#abuse to Both of them. unpacking it. working through it. moving forward. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

agustdakasuga · 3 years

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Between The Bloodshed | Chapter 1

Genre: Mafia!AU, Angst, Romance, Fluff

Pairing: OT7 x Reader

Characters: Doctor!Reader, Gangster!Namjoon, Gangster!Seokjin, Gangster!Yoongi, Gangster!Hoseok, Gangster!Jimin, Gangster!Taehyung, Gangster!Jungkook

Summary: Being a freelance doctor, this was just supposed to be any other job, helping a private client and taking care of him through his recovery. But you were not expecting to get caught in something so much darker that would change your life entirely.

A slightly different than usual house call leads you to a temporary stay at a mansion to care for 7 young men. It’s the first day of moving in and meeting the family you would be sharing a house with.

Warning: This story is fictional and has nothing to do with real life events or the actual members of BTS. It may contain depictions of violence, blood shed/ gore and mentions of abuse. Please read at your own discretion.

As you walked around your apartment, you made sure everything was packed into your bags. Even if you did earn enough money, you never needed anything bigger than a two bedroom apartment. Your job needed you to travel and live in other locations anyway.

“Hmm...” You headed into your office and took your bag out, making sure you had all your equipment that you needed inside.

KNOCK KNOCK

“Coming.” You turned off the lights and headed out, opening the front door. You were greeted by a male in a suit. He looked up from his phone, blinking at you while you just headed back into the house.

“Dr (y/l/n)?” You heard him.

“You’re early. Your boss told me you would be arriving at 2:30. It’s not even 2 yet.” You replied, continuing to gather the remainder of your things.

“My boss?”

“Yeah, your boss. Mr Kim Namjoon? The one who I have been speaking to on the phone.” You looked up at him, who was now standing in the doorway of your home, staring at you with an amused look on his face. You locked your bag after throwing your toiletries in. He let out a chuckle, making you raise an eyebrow at him.

“Ah, yes. My brother.” He said.

“Oh, you’re not- My bad.” You laughed in embarrassment, placing all your bags together.

“Jung Hoseok.” He held his hand out to you. You straightened up, shaking his hand, realising that he’s probably one of your ‘employers’. Namjoon had mentioned that the house consisted of 7 family members.

“(y/l/n) (y/n).” You introduced yourself.

“I’ll call my boys to bring your things. You ride with me.” Hoseok gestured to the door way and you followed him out. As you headed down, you saw more men come and bring your things down.

“Sir, madam.” A chauffeur came out of a Rolls Royce and opened the door for you and Hoseok to enter.

“Bosses don’t usually come all the way to pick me up personally.” You stated as the chauffeur closed the door after you entered. Your eyes followed as he ran to the driver’s seat and enter.

“Well, you’re gonna be a new, important member of the house. You’re not going to be like the other employees around. My brothers and I thought it would be best to welcome you the right way.” He laughed. You could tell Hoseok was quite a cheery, friendly person. You gave a small smile.

The drive was rather long. You looked out the window, watching as the car finally stopped in front of an iron gate. The driver poked his head out to greet a man by the gate.

“We’re here.” Hoseok looked up from his phone. As the car pulled through the gates, there was a long driveway in before a mansion came to view.

“Wow.” You looked up at the mansion.

“Impressed?” Hoseok asked.

“It’s one of the nicer houses that I’ve seen.” You said as the chauffeur opened the door for you. There was a butler and maid waiting at the front door for you and Hoseok. Seeing Hoseok, they bowed respectfully. You and Hoseok walked in first, the people with your things following behind you. The inside of the house was sleek and elegant.

“I have to go attend to some business. The head butler will take you to your room and office.” Hoseok said and you nodded.

“Bye.” You waved him off.

“You’re funny. I’ll see you later, (y/n).” Hoseok patted your shoulder.

“Take care of the doctor and make sure to get whatever she needs. She’s more a guest than employee here.” Hoseok commanded. The butler bowed his head to you and gestured down the hallway. You were brought to your room first.

“Thanks.” You placed your bag down. The other staff came in with your things, placing them neatly in the corner.

“Are you ready to see your office, doctor?” The butler asked. You hummed with a nod. You went to the stack of things, picking out some things to bring to the office with you.

“Please, let us bring it for you.” The butler waved his hand and the other staff took the items from you. The butler pointed to the door and you followed him out, closing the bedroom door behind you. This place was like a maze, it was just too big that you already knew you would be getting lost in the future.

“Here is your office. Master Namjoon has prepared everything in the list you provided.” He informed. You walked around. It definitely had everything you asked for and they were all the latest models.

“Thank you. Where is Namjoon sshi?” You asked.

“Master Namjoon is currently out for a meeting. But he should be back soon.” He informed.

“Alright. I’ll just unpack for now.” You said, sitting down behind the desk.

“If you need any assistance, please feel free to approach us.” He spoke with another bow of the head before he left you alone.

This was your job. You were a freelance doctor that worked for private clients. Depending on the contract and requirements, you would decide whether to live in their place of residence to care for them privately, as needed. The residents of this house specifically requested you live here.

It wasn’t a common job but you earned more than an average doctor would and it was less stressful since you were your own employee.

“There we go.” You unboxed everything, rearranging other items to make it more convenient for you. As you sat back down in front of your desk, you found a stack of files in the cupboard. There were 7 folders to be exact. You guessed that these were the profiles of your new clients. You began to flip through each of them. They contained the health records of the 7 men.

“Recent posterior labrum surgery.” You scribbled down some notes on a notepad. Min Yoongi seemed to be the one with the most recent health problem.

“Well.” You shut the folders and tucked them under your arm, leaving the home clinic. Thankfully, you managed to make your way back to your room to continue unpacking your own items.

After unpacking, you took a shower and changed into something more comfortable, a sweater and some jeans.

“(y/n)! Did you settle in well?” You ran into Hoseok outside.

“Yes, I did. Thank you. The office is truly impressive.” You spoke as you walked with him.

“We are the ones going to benefit for your services. If anything, we should get the state of the art equipment for you. Anyway, you should meet the rest of the family soon.” Hoseok said.

“Get some tea and snacks.” Hoseok said to a passing maid, who nodded and scurried off towards the kitchen. You’ve seen how rich clients treat their staff, it’s not new. Although you didn’t feel as comfortable, it wasn’t your place to comment or question it.

“Please, sit.” Hoseok gestured for you to sit in the living room.

“Ah, the first two. Jin hyung, Jungkook.” Hoseok called out to two males. Both were dressed in suits as well, one not wearing a blazer. You saw a full sleeve of tattoos through his white shirt.

“Dr (y/l/n), this is Jin hyung, the oldest. And this is Jungkook, the youngest.” Hoseok introduced.

“Ah, yes. The house doctor.” Jin nodded his head.

“I look forward to working together.” You shook hands with them.

“You’re the one who had heel stitches.” You said to Jungkook. Namjoon was kind enough to put a small description of everyone in the profiles. Jungkook had the doe eyes and tattoo sleeve that matched the profile.

“Yeah. But it happened a while back. Yoongi hyung-”

“Had a recent shoulder surgery.” You finished his sentence. Jin threw his head back in laughter.

“You’re funny, doc. I look forward to having you around. I think it’ll be fun..” Jin complimented and you chuckled as well. Jin and Jungkook took a seat, both enjoying the array of snacks that had been laid out. You watched their behaviours, Hoseok was definitely the most outgoing and Jungkook was the most introverted.

“Have you been to your room?” Jin asked.

“Yes. I do need to unpack more tonight though.” You said, seeing Jungkook eye a cookie on your side of the tray. You picked it up, handing it to him. He blinked with wide eyes, receiving it.

“A pretty girl in the house?” A new voice arrived and you turned your head to see a shorter, pretty male there.

“She’s more than a pretty girl, Chim. This is Dr (y/l/n).” Hoseok introduced you. You stood up and held your hand out. He blinked at your outstretched hand before him.

“Interesting...” He nodded his head slowly as he shook your hand.

“Nice to meet you, doc.” He spoke.

“The pleasure is all mine.” You let go of his hand, eyes shifting to see a figure running in behind Jimin. He crashed into the smaller male, making Jimin stumbled forward slightly. He had a boxy, yet playful grin on his face as he wrapped an arm around Jimin’s shoulders.

“You must be Taehyung sshi?” You clarified. The male’s eyes moved up to meet yours, finally realising your presence. He raised an eyebrow at you.

“You are...?”

“The doctor that Namjoon hyung was talking about.” Jimin said softly, elbowing Taehyung’s side to get out of his grip. Taehyung pulled away and took a step to the side, eyeing you up and down.

“Yoongi hyung’s babysitter?” Taehyung stifled a laugh.

“He’s gonna kill you if he hears that.” Jungkook said with an eye roll.

“Technically, when it comes to all of your healths, I am a babysitter to all of you, not only Yoongi.” You said. Jimin threw his head back with laughter but nodded in agreement.

“Where can I find Namjoon sshi?” You asked Hoseok.

“Someone looking for me?” Another voice appeared. Two more males entered the living room, one of them in a sling. Min Yoongi. The male that spoke had a authoritative aura but he sent you a smile, dimples appearing on his cheeks. Yoongi fell back into one of the armchairs. Finally, you could see all 7 brothers gathered together.

“You must be Dr (y/l/n). Apologies for not greeting you when you arrived. I hope you settled in well?” Namjoon shook hands with you.

“Yes, nice to meet you. And don’t worry, I’ve been getting well acquainted with the rest of your brothers.” You nodded over to the 5 males that you have been chatting with.

“I see, that’s good. That is Yoongi hyung.” Namjoon gestured.

“Yes, the sling was a giveaway.” You nodded.

“I can see you’re going to be a great addition to the household. If you follow me to my office, we can talk more there.” Namjoon said and you nodded, giving the others a lazy wave before walking with Namjoon.

“Please, take a seat.” Namjoon said as he closed his office door behind you. You sat down while he sat in his comfy armchair opposite you, the oak desk in between the both of you. You eyed the books on his shelf, the little figurines on the glass racks.

“Analysing me?” He chuckled.

“A little.” You shrugged. Namjoon pulled out a folder, similar to the one he had provided you about the 7 boys.

“You’re quite experienced for someone your age, doctor. I must admit, I was almost in disbelief when I first came across your profile.” Namjoon raised an eyebrow at you.

“Age and experience are two different things, Namjoon sshi.” You pointed out and Namjoon nodded his head in agreement.

“I can tell you’re quite a strong character. I hope the boys don’t cause too much trouble for you, if they haven’t already done so.” Namjoon said and you shook your head with a laugh.

“Nothing I can’t handle.” You said.

“Yes, I have no doubt that you can handle them. Aren’t you’re curious as to why 7 healthy, young men would need a house doctor on call?” Namjoon asked.

“Unfortunately, no. I don’t question clients when it comes to livelihood or what they do, unless it has something to do with their health, the less I know, the better. My only condition is, as long as you let me do my job with no problems, I’ll stay out of the way.” You said. Namjoon didn’t even hide his slight surprise by your answer.

“You’re very different, doc.” Namjoon said with a smile.

“I hear that a lot.” You smiled back.

“Yoongi hyung is the main one that needs medical attention now. But I must warn you, he can be a little stubborn.” He spoke.

“Yes, you can say I was already warned about him by Taehyung.” You chuckled with a small shrug. Namjoon nodded his head and you bowed your head, standing up.

“But I’ll see how he is for his first assessment. I like a challenge.” You turned to smirk at him.

“It’s good to remain optimistic, doc.” Namjoon smiled.

“Shall I send him to you?” Namjoon offered.

“I appreciate the offer. But like I said, you let me do my job and I’ll let you do yours.” You sent him a sweet smile and walked out of there, leaving him in his office. You hummed to yourself, your hands behind your back. As you walked, Yoongi was walking in the opposite direction.

“Yoongi sshi.” You acknowledged with a wave and he remained emotionless, only giving you a side eye before continuing his way. A smile made way to your face as you walked to your room to continue unpacking and relaxing.

KNOCK KNOCK

“My apologies for the interruption, doctor. It’s time for dinner.” The butler bowed as you poked your head out.

“Sure.” You stepped out, closing the door behind you. You followed behind him, through more hallways until he cleared his throat and stopped. He bowed and you looked out to see the 7 owners of the mansion sitting at the dinner table.

“She’s eating with us?” Yoongi scowled.

“Oh, lighten up, hyung. She’s new, a nice dinner would be the proper way to introduce her.” Hoseok grinned.

“Plus, I like her!” Jin grinned. You blinked, raising an eyebrow as you watched their exchange. Jimin had an arm over the back of his chair, a smirk on his face. Hoseok came over and grabbed your wrist, pulling you to the table. He placed his hands on your shoulders to sit you down. Never once have you eaten with the family or your clients.

“I think I should-” You started to stand.

“Stay. (y/n).” Namjoon looked over to you and you pursed your lips, staying glued to your seat. Him using your first name and authoritative voice made you comply easily.

“(y/n)’s not a normal employee, we talked about this. She’s an important member of the household now.” Namjoon said to the others. Yoongi rolled his eyes but didn’t protest any further.

“Enough, let’s eat.” Jin waved to the maid, who served the food. The butler poured wine into everyone’s glasses.

“No, thanks.” You shook your head.

“Come on, doc. Let loose a little.” Jungkook smirked.

“I’m here to work. I don’t exactly let loose on the job.” You said to him, picking up the glass of water to drink. Jungkook grinned at your reply and began to eat. You silently observed them, Yoongi eating his pre cut steak with his free hand, Jungkook stealing Jin’s food and Jimin playing around with Taehyung.

“So doc, what do your parents do?” Jimin tilted his head.

“My father is a psychiatrist. Mother is a surgeon.” You said briefly, picking up a green bean to eat.

“That explains all the analysing then.” Namjoon chuckled, sipping his wine. You shrugged in response, your parents have very much involved you in their jobs from a very young age.

“Is that why you wanted to become a doctor? Because your parents are doctors too?” Jin asked.

“I guess.” You said with another shrug. A ring cut the conversation. Jungkook looked down at his phone that was ringing. The other boys stopped eating, casting wary glances towards the youngest. Taehyung cast you a side glance.

“I’ll excuse myself, thank you for the dinner,. I’ll see you tomorrow for rehab.” You wiped your mouth with a napkin as you stood up from your seat and pointed at Yoongi with a wink. He gave you an emotionless stare. You bowed your head and left the dining room, heading back to your room. The butlers closed the doors behind you.

“Talk about tension.” You shivered and headed to your office to grab some books to read. After some exploring, you found the garden in the backyard.

“Can I go out there?” You asked a passing maid.

“Of course.” She nodded her head, even pushing open the glass door and grabbing you a pair of outdoor slippers. You bowed your head gratefully and stepped out into the night.

The breeze was cooling and comfortable. In the middle of the big garden, there was a lighted gazebo, perfect for night reading.

“Hey.” Someone said and you lifted your head up from the book in your lap to see Jimin standing there. You just stared at him. Jimin shrugged, tucking his hands into the pockets of his hoodie before sliding onto the seat opposite you. You continued reading.

“Can I help you, Jimin sshi?” You spoke, not looking at him.

“Nope.” He popped the ‘p’ sound, giggling at the end. You hummed in response, continuing to read. Jimin huffed, moving to lie down on the bench, a hand behind his head.

“You’re very different than any employee that we’ve had around here.” Jimin spoke, looking at the ceiling.

“I see...” You weren’t really interested in the small talk.

“What are you reading?” All of a sudden, you felt Jimin’s body pressed against your side, his head tilted slightly, trying to read what you were reading. He scrunched his nose as his eyes skimmed through the words.

“Boring.” He scoffed, pulling away.

“Everyone has their own taste, Jimin sshi.”

“Ugh, stop with the Jimin sshi. It’s weird hearing you say that. Just call me Jimin.” He scowled in disgust. You couldn’t help but laugh at him but nodded your head anyway. Jimin was surprisingly comfortable to be around even if you only knew each other for a few hours. He reminded you of a playful child, who was trying to get your attention.

“It’s late. You should go to bed, doc. Remember, at least 8 hours of sleep.” Jimin chided.

“Yes, Jimin.” You chuckled at how he was trying to doctor you, standing up. He walked into the house with you. Surprisingly, he followed you all the way to your room instead of leaving you.

“Goodnight, doc.” Jimin smiled.

“Goodnight, Jimin.” You gave a small nod before opening your door.

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nevertheless-moving · 3 years

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Pop Star Wars AU: Waking

Drabble set in this au which I wrote way back a few weeks ago.

Back then, I had only recently decided to look up my tumblr password for a third attempt at being an appreciative fandom community member instead of just trying to think really hard at internet strangers, and maybe shout into the void a little. (But there’s like, several people here now??? How did you even find me on the internet? )

Anyway I have since learned how to spell Anakin’s name and insert links. Also that if you resize your window while typing directly into tumblr everything disappears.

Self Indulgent Crack Pop Star Wars Time Travel Fixit (star wars au no 3):

After several years of exile in the Jundland Wastes, Ben Kenobi had not quite finished mentally unpacking the decades of mistakes, grief, and failure that had led him to the desert. It was the work of a lifetime, and some days were harder than others. But after several forays in and out of alcoholism, spice addiction, and every other form of geographically-accessible self-destruction, he could at least say that some days were easier.

The process was no doubt made more difficult by the abject solitude. Unlike the chaotic years that constituted the fall of the Republic, he had all too much time to think, and no one around to share his thoughts with. He closed his eyes in the dark of his hut, thoughts drifting between past and future.

The past was as ugly and lovely as ever. The larger future didn’t look much better, but he could find some joy in the thought of tomorrow and fresh bantha milk when the herd roamed near. Owen was always much less begrudging of his presence when he came with an offering, and Beru would likely invite him to stay for noon meal where he would share in fresh cheese as Luke rambled about his plans to fix-up a junked speeder bike.

The thought of Luke’s happiness at the treat allowed him enough peace of mind to meditate more deeply.

He carefully broke off a piece of unfair-bitterness from his larger loving-grief. The bitterness he released into the force. The grief he turned over and soothed until its edges dissolved. He accepted it, now smoother if not smaller, laying it to rest alongside his hard-earned wisdom and unfinished poetry.

Tired, but fractionally lighter, Ben Kenobi drifted to sleep.

He opened his eyes to the first rays of daylight peeking in his temple chambers.

The room was intimately familiar. For a few years they were Ashoka’s, on the rare occasion she found herself temple-side and in want of privacy but not complete solitude. For a solid decade before her, the chambers were Anakin’s, though he was quick enough to accept the common room couch when Ashoka entered their life. And before that...they were his. That was his model rocket on the shelf, and his astronomical mobile hanging from the ceiling, and his robes scattered on the floor, though they hadn’t been arranged as such in this room since his apprenticeship with Qui-Gon. He sat up.

Glad he had put energy into meditation last night, he used the lingering clarity of mind to try and work through possible explanations.

Vivid Dream? No a quick pinch to his inner elbow debunked that, as well as the fact that the morning taste in his mouth was more the minty tang of denti-cleaner, rather than the saltiness of dried meat which he had grown accustomed to.

Hallucinogenic mushroom flashback? Possible, though it still wouldn’t explain the detail of physical sensations he felt, running his hand from the temple-spun linens on his bed to the warm-carved wood of his bedside table. He stood and did a perfect forward flip in place. Shockingly his knees didn’t ache at impact, but a drug induced hallucination of this intensity would have some sort of impact on his equilibrium, and he felt perfectly balanced, at least physically.

Force vision seemed most likely. Sinking into cross-legged meditation, he gradually lowered his mental shields. There was no whisper of Vader or Palpatine anywhere near Hutt space at this time, so the risk of reaching out was both manageable and necessary. Rather than the pure energy he personally associated with intense visions, he felt gradients of light, echoing ripples of emotions, and the unique solidity of force-imbued stone walls.

Heart beginning to race as reality set in, Ben concluded that he was, indeed, in the Jedi temple on Courascant. Even if he had suffered a complete psychotic break, his force sense couldn’t lie with such crystal clear detail. Confused unreality mixed with images of the past and future, sure. But this was the temple. It just was.

He couldn’t make sense of it. Even if he had somehow been found, drugged, and transported to the heart of the empire, the rooms as he sensed them didn’t exist anymore. The contents were lost or burnt, the stone walls destroyed and rebuilt into a wing of the Imperial Palace.

Obi-Wan sank deeper into the force and reached out further, searching for he answers. In general, the force felt light, the shroud of the darkside was a hazy irritation in the distance, not a smothering blanket. The manifold wounds in the force formed by senseless war and destruction were absent. Also gone were the tang of grief and loss that he had begun to associate with the temple’s signature even before- even before the purge.

The temple was also full to the brim with tens of thousands of lights in the living force. He reached out to them incredulously, nudging many just to feel a living, sentient response. The last time he remembered feeling so many Jedi all in the temple at the same time was...well, when he still lived in this room. The nearest living force sensitive presence was achingly familiar, though notably and unquestioningly living. He could feel the presence moving nearer and retreated, pulling himself fully back into his body.

The only explanation that fit was that he had suddenly, miraculously, inexplicably traveled back in time.

He half ran to his closet, opening the door with a yank to reveal a full length mirror. A once-familiar, 25-year old padawan stared back with visible shock. Of course his knees didn’t hurt, this body hadn’t yet been broken and abused by knighthood, war, and Tatooine. His hands examined the smooth chin, the unwrinkled forehead, and even the terrible, terrible haircut.

Obi-wan startled at a knock at his door, freezing in place.

“Padawan?” Came Qui-Gon Jinn’s voice softly, “I don’t intend to pull you out of meditation prematurely, but is there a particular reason you were sprawling over the temple this morning? You startled me somewhat. To be perfectly honest, I think you might have alarmed a few people around the temple, I’ve already received messages from council telling me to reign in my padawan before he hurts himself.”

Qui-Gon sounded more amused than reprimanding, and he paused, clearly waiting for an answer.

Obi-Wan’s jaw locked up. What could he say? How could he even to begin to explain what had happened? He sank to floor, head pressed to the ground and tears silent streaming down his face. All he could do was offer to the force were words, the feelings could come later Thank you. Thank youThankyouthankyouTHANKYOU.

For whatever reason, the force had granted him a second chance. Regardless if it was intended as punishment, gift, or inexplicable chance, he would build a better future than the one he left behind.

“Padawan?” Qui-Gon knocked again, sounding concerned, “Are you alright? If you don’t answer I’m going to have to come in there.”

And all at once he had flipped back to not enough time to think and too many people needing his attention.

Obi-Wan managed to open his mouth to call out some meaningless assurance, intent on gaining more time to process the fantastical situation. Much to his surprise, what came out was a strangled, keening sob. Qui-Gon burst through the door.

Obi-Wan realized, with a little embarrassment, that he was curled up practically into a ball on the floor, tears streaming in a shocking waste of water. It was probably not the most dignified, nor the most reassuring position for Qui-Gon to walk in on.

Qui-Gon rushed to his side, pulling him up by the shoulders to frantically look him over. “What happened?” he demanded, “Are you hurt? Did something go wrong while you were meditating and you were trying to reach out for help?”

Obi-Wan smiled at the barrage of questions. He had almost forgotten that on the rare occasions when Qui-Gon’s perfect Jedi serenity broke, he became somewhat counterproductively intense.

“I’m alright, Master,” he tried to say, but what came out was more of a croaking, “MNNrlerR.”

This predictably, only increased Qui-Gon’s concern.

To Obi-Wan’s deep consternation, he was dragged by Qui-Gon to the healer’s wing. He remained quiet during the examination, not wanting to risk whatever was compromising his ability to speak. It could be readjusting to his younger body, or a manifestation of the admittedly great emotional shock he was still experiancing. Or simple lack of practice- it had been several weeks since he had last heard the sound of his own voice, from a certain point of view.

After finding no physical cause for concern, Master Vyr asked Qui-Gon to wait outside.

“Padawan Kenobi?” The Tortugan healer asked gently. “Your Master seems quite insistent that something is wrong. Would you like to discuss what the problem seems to be?”

Obi-Wan cleared his throat and was relieved when his voice came out smooth and under his control, “I’m alight, Master. I apologize for disruption. I experienced a... particularly strong vision when I woke up this morning, and temporarily lost control over myself. I’m already feeling more stable. I believe I simply need to meditate on what I’ve seen. My master unfortunately came in while I was dealing with some of the emotional aftermath.

“I see,” Vyr responded. “Did you experience this vision before or after your expansive foray into the force? I understand a surprising swath of the temple felt your presence press against them this morning.”

“I reached out after,” Obi-Wan admitted. “My vision was...particularly dark. I felt the need to ground myself with the presence of other Jedi. I’ll make certain to apologize to anyone I may have startled.”

Eventually he was cleared with the strict instruction to stick with shallow meditation for the next few days as well as a strong recommendation to seek out Master Yoda, Sifo-Dryfas, or one of the other Master known to experience visions.

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan walked back to their quarters together in a peaceful quiet. It wasn’t until the door clicked behind them that Qui-Gon rounded on his padawan.

“What vision could possibly have left you in such distress?”

Obi-Wan walked to the kitchenette to make tea, stalling before answering. “You have always told me to stay focused on the present, Master”

Qui-Gon frowned. “Yes, however this...vision seems to have altered you somehow. You are grieved by it.”

“Yes. But what I grieve may never come to pass.”

It won’t come to pass. I might not know his every tool, but I do know Sideous’s biggest secret, and I WILL stop him.

“Will you not tell me what you saw?” Qui-Gon asked, sounding somewhat hurt.

Obi-Wan poured the hot water carefully, feeling torn. If he told Qui-Gon everything... would he believe him? Perhaps, eventually but...what would become of Anakin, still just a boy? And the moment he knew of Palpatine’s evil...he knew Qui-Gon. He would favor the direct approach, underestimating the sheer breadth of the trap the sith had laid (Obi-Wan himself lived through it and only began to understand long after it had closed).

“I saw...a great shadow fall over the republic.”

He sat at the table, relishing in the simple pleasure of pouring a cup for Qui-Gon and himself from a shared pot.

Qui-Gon cradled his mug in his hands. “I see. Nothing specific?”

“Your death. At the hands of a tool of darkness. You ran ahead...” Obi-Wan took a scorching sip to stop himself. “It was foolish. Unnecessary. And I was forced to fight alone without you.

Qui-Gon set the tea down to stroke his beard in thought. “Well. I have no great desire to die. While I make no promises, I will endeavor to avoid leaving you behind ‘unnecessarily.’”

“Thank you,” Obi-Wan replied, over sincere.

They drank in peaceful silence. It was interrupted by a shrill noise from Qui-Gon’s comm.

“I’ve just received a personal request from the Chancellor to immediately assist in negotiations with a Trade Federation blockade around Naboo. Are you feeling up to it?”

“You know, I think I am”

#star wars #pop star wars au #my au #time travel #star wars au no 3

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ratcandy · 3 years

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Subcon Forest Analysis

Hi everyone I'm here to spill my aggressive overflowing thoughts on Subcon Forest and what it represents because it's been driving me insane since I finished the Sleepy Subcon time rift. Okay let's go. Obvious spoilers for AHIT ahead so proceed with caution.

This is also very, very long.

Disclaimer/warning: I will be discussing abusive/unhealthy relationships in this analysis. I mean. Vanessa. Come on. Also, there is a section on the nooses, and that delves, of course, into mentions of suicide. It will be sectioned off and easily skipped, but if you'd rather be safe and skip the entire post, that's completely understandable! Please stay safe. <3

Alright. Main point to be had here:

Subcon Forest is a giant extended metaphor for Snatcher's mind and character.

You all get to now listen to me spout nonsense about metaphors and symbolism because I'm a sucker for analysis and I'm given an opportunity to go ham. So perish.

The Ice

Let's start with the most obvious and most glaring thing in Subcon. The ice. It's everywhere. Not just outside Vanessa's manor, either; no, it's throughout the village, too. Shows up in the well and in random locations sprinkled about. When it comes to literal plot, we know that ice is just what lingers after Vanessa's wintery curse on Subcon. But going deeper and analyzing the meaning behind it?

Well, let's look at this from the perspective I've suggested. Subcon Forest being an extended metaphor for Snatcher's mind and character. A symbol for Vanessa then litters his mind, enough where it's certainly noticeable at first but blends in more easily once more of Subcon is unlocked to Hat Kid. This is clearly meant to be his lingering trauma, whether or not he wants to acknowledge it. Which he doesn't, as he never mentions it directly in his forest (that I can recall). Her influence plagues him, as to be expected with the traumatic experiences he went through with her. Breaking the ice is something Hat Kid must do in order to fulfill the wishes of the Fire Spirits (another subject I'll get into shortly), which, if self-indulgently playing with the found family idea, could mean that Hat Kid is helping him heal; if indirectly. Even if fulfilling the Fire Spirits' wish to die is... counterproductive, in that measure, which I'm now getting ahead of myself so hold on a sec!!

Vanessa. Ice. Everywhere. Traces of it all over his forest. That's the effects of an abusive relationship! Especially in a worst-case scenario where... yknow! One party in the relationship dies! So of course ice would be everywhere.

In and of itself, ice is a common symbol in literature and other forms of media. In this case, it's presented as an antagonistic force; emphasis is placed upon freezing and the harm that comes with it. The cold is unwelcoming, threatening, merciless. Snow can act as an insulating force, at least, but ice cannot. It can only make things colder.

A slight stretch: Seeing as this game deals a lot with time shenaniganry, I'm not sure if it'd be too out of left field to connect "freezing" with the theme of time. Yknow. Frozen in time. Both parties here, Snatcher and Vanessa, would be in this frozen state. One largely repressing it and never fully moving on, and the other doomed to her isolation ever since the event in question. They never moved past that moment after the Prince and florist's interaction.

The Fire Spirits (& the Portraits)

I'll put a slight warning here for suicidal ideation, if only because... it's the Fire Spirits we're talking about. It's not as grossly in-detail as the noose discussion will be, though, so make of that what you will.

To me, the Fire Spirits are a very interesting case. After all, they're fire. They're a direct contrast to the ice, thus being the only thing we're shown that could potentially melt it. The Fire Spirits, in my opinion, represent hope or a strength to continue. A strength to move on after troubles of the past.

...And that hope wants to die.

The Fire Spirits wish to burn out, to leave this mortal coil and abandon the forest to the cold. They make no effort to melt the ice, they simply dance, blissfully ignorant towards their surroundings. This being a metaphor for Snatcher's own hope for moving on is made all the more obvious by the fact he wants them gone. The first contract is to kill the Fire Spirits, to kill the hope. Perhaps he believes that sort of thing to be fruitless or naïve, so it only clutters his mind or has him foolishly optimistic at points. So, get rid of it. And the hope is happy to oblige.

(That, or their willingness to leave the forest to its own suffering and not aid in the ice's thaw angers him. Besides the whole "bark bark growl I can't get to parts of my forest because of them!!" which... also could represent a naïve hope clouding his judgement, not allowing him to see a bigger picture. But hope can't all be lost if one wants to move forward...)

A little side-tangent now on the portraits! And it's another slight stretch but the idea is in my head and I can't let it go. Portraits are another common symbol, usually being a physical representation of a memory or idea. For our purposes, let's say they're memories. I know in canon they appear to just hold souls captive or something but for now we're just Ignoring That(tm). The Fire Spirits have to burn the portraits to disappear. See where I'm going with this, maybe?

Instead of handling bad memories (or perhaps memories of the past in general) in any healthy manner, Snatcher chooses to forget/repress them, which just allows his hope to progressively die out.

I'm really hoping this is making sense because it makes a lot of sense to me but I might be insane rn

The Fact that this is a Forest

Forest symbolism breakdown! What's a forest usually mean in literature? "Traditionally, the forest has come to represent being lost, exploration and potential danger as well as mystery and 'other worldliness'." Okay. Yeah. Fair enough. That certainly works with the whole aesthetic we've got going on. Wood usually is life, growth and strength. But the trees of subcon are all dead. So what about that? It stands for death, big whoop, very spooky, we know Snatcher's dead and so are the children, yadda yadda wowie wowie. But. :) The trees in Subcon look a lot like trees that were scorched in a forest fire. Don't believe me?

(You could also argue they're just regular marsh/swamp trees bUT SSHHSUUHSH HANG ON HEAR ME OUT LOOK LOOK,)

What I believe to have happened was a controlled fire to rid the forest of the majority of its ice and snow. Likely done by Snatcher. It leaves behind a very desolate, depressing, barren scene... but. What else do dead/burnt trees symbolize? Rebirth. After all, controlled fires happen to make way for new trees to take the place of old ones. Some trees only drop seeds in fires/hot temperatures, so new ones take root and begin anew. Weird. It's almost like... I dunno. Snatcher was given some sorta second chance, given he's not just a corpse in Vanessa's cellar. So were the subconites. Another life given then by Snatcher. All connected I tell ya!!

Generally, aside from that, forests have many connotations. Mystery, isolation, claustrophobia; a place to dwell on regrets, or the past; to worry over one's future; to seek escape from or escape inside of... hmgmrnmm!

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- T / W -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

The Nooses

The t/w is given at the top and another cut-off point will follow the bottom of this, for those that would like to skip. This will delve into talk of suicide and abusive tactics used by abusers. Please don't read if it will upset you or make you feel unsafe!!!

Personally, I cannot stand the nooses, but that's just due to my own triggers. Were there a way to hide those from the game or replace the damned talking ones with anything else. I would take it. In a heartbeat. But I can still appreciate the potential analysis to be had with them. So now i'm gonna talk about it despite how uncomfortable it will make me to do so. yEa

So, what about 'em? There are three types of nooses seen in Subcon. At least that I remember but I didn't really go looking for them. Empty ones, ones containing empty subconites, and the talking ones.

Nooses in general obviously can hint towards suicidal thoughts or behaviors of the characters that interact with them. If saying Subcon is Snatcher's mind, it could suggest that he suffered from some sort of suicidal thoughts in life (or currently, if second death is possible... or if he never truly died... or maybe he's trying to figure that out...which has given me... a separate idea...uh oh). But. And hear me out. Different perspective.

A talking noose. I hate them with a fiery passion that is unmatched. But think of the packed symbolism of a noose that talks. And think more about what it says. "I wouldn't mind being strapped around a cute neck like yours." "Be careful now, I don't want to see you meet a miserable end anywhere, but with me." Oddly, a lot of what the noose says seems almost... endearing? One could argue it's a way of luring someone to put it around their necks, which in and of itself is a whole lot to unpack when it comes to suicidal thoughts beckoning one forward; painting itself as something romantic, almost. But. Here's a wild idea, now. What if the nooses, at least the talking ones, are another symbol for Vanessa?

They're tinted blue, after all. While Vanessa's scheme is more red, one could argue two things: One, ice. Blue. Ice. yeah. Or two, the fact that Snatcher's scheme is more purple. Blue and red... make... purple. So, for all we know, Snatcher's current state was a compound effort between suicidal thoughts and Vanessa's treatment of him. Perhaps he even found a way to put himself out of his misery before freezing/starving to death. (I know he has dialogue that argues against that, but... are we certain Snatcher would be the kind to admit suicide over freezing to death?... I don't think so.)

At any rate, a common threat by those in "control" of an abusive relationship is that of killing themselves should the other person not do as they desire. It's a cruel form of emotional manipulation to get their way, worse off if the other party is an empathetic individual. As a person who has been the empathetic individual in relationships like this... I would know. I've been here, unfortunately So, it's not completely out of the question to say Vanessa could've used some tactic like that, even before the whole... cellar ordeal. Did she? I dunno. I'm tossing ideas around. But if she did, the threats of such would sit around in the Prince's mind easily. Even if she has a reputation of not going through with it. It doesn't matter. That shit sticks with you forever, that scare, the potential of it ever being true, is horrifying and it ruins you. I'm projecting, Squirtle.

Still. A noose cannot hang itself. It has to have a victim.

...yea.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- T / W PASSED -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Misc. Ideas

- The spiders: Aside from the usual things spiders can be chalked up to symbolizing - toxicity, alluring danger, just... general pain - I like the potential wordplay that can happen here. Yknow. A black widow. Say the Prince and Vanessa were married when one died. What would that leave Vanessa? A widow. ...She's red and black, too. Yknow. Like a black widow. HA wordplay is fun isn't it?

- Snatcher's tree: Love this place, love sitting in here. But not the point! The inside of Snatcher's tree is such a harsh juxtaposition to the rest of Subcon that it kinda throws ya off guard. After all, the dark, purples and blues then contrasted with the bright warm colors of the inside. Even the music switches over. The thorns outside aren't present indoors. Ohh yeah this is gonna be on the nose as hell but the Tree(tm) is 100% representing Snatcher's appearance/put-on personality vs. his truer nature. Spooky outside with thorns, foreboding, unwelcoming. Then the more comfortable interior. VULnerable. Have I even mentioned that the tree is HOLLOW I mean COME ON. The sturdiness of that tree? Nonexistent. He's not a sturdy guy at all no matter how he fronts

- Intrusions are unwelcome: Snatcher does not like the fact that Hat Kid sticks around in his forest. His personal space. His mind. In fact he tries desperately to get rid of her after their fight, not wanting her presence in his forest at all. He has no problem providing more contracts later on with the Death Wish thing, and he finds great entertainment in messing around with Hat Kid, so it's not just a weird sudden hatred he has for her; it's the fact that. After she's finished being useful, he no longer wants her around, lest she find some things she shouldn't find. Now he's just uncomfortable with her in his personal boundaries. Could just be a denial that she's helped him heal (breaking ice, stealing from Vanessa, being something interesting for his kids to interact with) or just not really wanting a child to get wrapped up in. All that. Most likely the former. Considering the amount of joke-hints he drops regarding his background during his Death Wish dialogue. I see you funny man, making jokes out of your trauma as a coping mechanism. Punts him

Annnd I think that's all I got, for now! I'll make an update post if I get any more sporadic ideas. If you read this whole thing, thank you!! and also!! Wow that was a lot!! Hell world. Please feel free to elaborate on any of my points or debate with me on em!! I'm always open to other ideas, just be aware that if I disagree I am not shy when it comes to debate hehehe, tho I won't be aggressive to any extent I prommy!!

Alrighty. goes to sleep goodnight

#clamtalk #VERY long ramble #a hat in time #snatcher #ahit snatcher #subcon forest #vanessa ahit #ahit #analysis #the prince ahit #goes crazy. goes insane #ask to tag #i'm frazzled I can't add more tags I'll do so later

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haleigh-sloth · 3 years

Note

you were talking about something a bit similar yesterday so I'm sorry for being late to the conversation, but I just do not understand people who are fans of the LOV and yet are so vehemently hateful towards Midoriya, and in turn most of the other kids. I understand the criticism that sometimes the kids get things handed to them by the story, but tbh that is just to be expected of the protagonist characters in a shonen manga like this one. even so however, it's not like Midoriya gets off free of everything that he does? his actions and his sacrifices and very actually very rarely ever truly appreciated within the story, just because he is successful in most of his feats doesn't mean that the people around him necessarily Notice (him only getting one internship request after the sports festival despite displaying amazing power and critical thinking skills, the Stain Hosu incident, even in the VERY BEGINNING of the series when he runs forward to save Bakugou he says himself that he was only reprimanded for being so careless in his actions).

I see so many people who are (so ironically) only seeing the story in black and white, when in reality these kids, and Midoriya especially, are being negatively impacted by hero society just as much as the villains are, they're just experiencing it from a different angle. (Which adds a whole other layer to the Midoriya becoming the greatest hero plotline, because the society that he is also fighting against is the one that was shaped that way by his predecessor- albeit unintentionally.) Midoriya is going to be the one to try to save Shigaraki, Midoriya has already become the greatest hero by actively looking past the actions of Shig and the League and wanting to help them.

- I didn't get to finish my thought from the FULL ESSAY I sent earlier (my bad about how long that ended up being lmao) but...yeah I was saying about how Midoriya is already a better hero at 16 than most other pros because he actively wants to help the League. Midoriya is exactly the kind of hero that the villains, and Shigaraki in particular, needs in order to have the happy ending that so many want for him. I agree that the manga has been a bit of a drag-along for the past few...months tbh, and I am absolutely Livid at the way that Bones has structured the story, and it's causing a lot of boredom and Tons of tension with people, but I feel like a lot of villain fans are taking that out on the integrity of the characters themselves, which is causing a lot of the mischaracterizaton of Midoriya in particular. n idk, I just find it sort of ironic, DEFINITELY annoying, and in general just.... :/ yknow. just :/

I think it's completely valid for people to just simply not like certain characters for whatever reason they might have, im not here to police people's opinions, but when people's opinions come at the expense of misunderstanding pretty key elements of the characters / story they're talking about, that's when I have a problem. FINAL MESSAGE I promise lmao sorry again for the 600 page essay

You're good lol. In fact, I've discussed some of this in-depth in private with a tumblr friend. Again, I feel like my DMs are being read 👀 anyway lol

So obviously this is going to be a long ass post so I'll add a cut toward the top. But I wanna start off with: there's a lot to unpack here and I'm going to preface with, I agree with you. But I also have to say that I see both sides, but when it comes to vehemently hating a character and letting that hate for that character lead to bad takes (which I see for Deku and another character that I'll get to under the cut) I feel like the overall point people are trying to make loses its grip because it starts to just turn into bashing, and doesn't actually hold water with what's actually in the story.

"I just do not understand people who are fans of the LOV and yet are so vehemently hateful towards Midoriya, and in turn most of the other kids. I understand the criticism that sometimes the kids get things handed to them by the story, but tbh that is just to be expected of the protagonist characters in a shonen manga like this one."

I'll be honest, I see a lot of people love on the UA kids. Especially ones like Kirishima, Kaminari, Mina, Tsuyu, basically any of the ones with personalities that are beyond "I have to get stronger! I have to catch up with my classmates and live up to everyone's expectations!" Which I personally feel like pretty much all of the UA kids have as personalities, save for the main five, and the few above that I listed. But for the hatred toward Midoriya....oy. Where do I begin.

Well, I actually don't see a lot of Deku hate on my dash. I follow a very small number of blogs, most of which are pretty in line with my POV of the story and therefore, I don't see a lot of bad takes.

A little baby rant inside of this monster post:

Yes, I have come across extremist villain-stan blogs that, while I agree with some of their opinions on the villains, I don't agree with their opinions on the hero characters. I've unfollowed blogs like that, because they started exhausting me and making me upset, tbqh. Like yes, the villains are the best characters in the story. But guess what? They aren't the only ones in the story. We have other characters that are important to the overall themes and messages. I, personally, really like the hero kid:villain set up. Others I've seen want the heroes and villains completely separated in the story and for the villains to save themselves without any help from the heroes?? Makes zero sense because the story is about these becoming true heroes, and in order to do that they need to challenge themselves by saving a villain. So...blogs that were spouting that nonsense, I've unfollowed and stopped engaging with.

But back to Midoriya. Okay, I genuinely, genuinely like Midoriya! I've liked him from the beginning. He's not favorite, he's not even my second favorite. He's in my top 5 though. But the only dislike I personally see toward Midoriya on my blog is for these problematic things that have occurred:

Telling Shouto he thinks he's going to forgive his father because he's kind, making Natsuo feel bad for not forgiving his abusive POS father.

Trying to "reach" Dabi the same way he reached Shouto, only to just cause more harm.

Saying Endeavor is a mentor who made him stronger??? TO Dabi??

Teaming up with the fucking top 3

So....basically...any time Midoriya has been interjected into the Todoroki plot line, he's been less than likable--AFTER what he did for Shouto during the sports festival. That was a positive thing, and it actually kicked off the Todoroki plot line really really well. It got us into Shouto's inner world and started his story off nicely I think.

And you can argue that Midoriya's flaw is being blinded by hero society and seeing the good in everybody, BUT--

This was LITERALLY THE FIRST INTERACTION between Midoriya and Endeavor. THIS set the tone for the Todoroki plot. So....all that stuff up there that people hate about Midoriya, is definitely valid. I mean...I don't think it's worth hating him for but people can like and dislike who they want. But this just reiterates my belief that so many things in BNHA come to a fucking halt for Endeavor's bitch ass. The main character included.

"it's not like Midoriya gets off free of everything that he does? his actions and his sacrifices and very actually very rarely ever truly appreciated within the story, just because he is successful in most of his feats doesn't mean that the people around him necessarily Notice (him only getting one internship request after the sports festival despite displaying amazing power and critical thinking skills, the Stain Hosu incident, even in the VERY BEGINNING of the series when he runs forward to save Bakugou he says himself that he was only reprimanded for being so careless in his actions)"

So, I don't entirely disagree but I do have to disagree to an extent. Midoriya's consequences have been a topic for a while now and everyone says the same thing. Nothing ever comes back to him, he doesn't ever actually fail at anything. His failures don't actually hold him back or push him to challenge his beliefs. Like...narrative consequences here is what I'm talking about. Midoriya only got one offer after the sports festival, yes that's a consequence of putting your body through ridiculous strain and self-destructing in front of everyone like that. But it ended up working in his favor because he went with Gran Torino who taught him his next big move, full cowling, which I think we can all agree was a major power-up for him. So...it wasn't much of a consequence in the long run. It wasn't a set back. And you're right, he was reprimanded for rushing in to save Bakugo in the beginning, which is coming into play now when we see that it's actually hard for people to step in and save others because everyone is so trained by society to just let heroes handle everything. Even though Bakugo would have died if not for Midoriya. BUT--what happened next? All Might gave him his power. That was a reward by the narrative. Granted that HAD to happen for our story to kick off, but I'm just trying to show how Midoriya doesn't ever actually have any set-backs.

"Midoriya is going to be the one to try to save Shigaraki, Midoriya has already become the greatest hero by actively looking past the actions of Shig and the League and wanting to help them."

"but...yeah I was saying about how Midoriya is already a better hero at 16 than most other pros because he actively wants to help the League. Midoriya is exactly the kind of hero that the villains, and Shigaraki in particular, needs in order to have the happy ending that so many want for him"

Fully agree here. I'll say that recently I've seen a lot of people making posts about how they don't think it'll be Midoriya doing the reaching and saving. How they think it'll be the LOV saving each other without the help of the heroes, how they'll reach each other's hearts?? Which...I don't even know what to say besides ask people who think that what they think the purpose of all these parallels and similarities drawn between him and Shigaraki are for, if not to bring them together in the end (and stay connected too--not just be yeeted from each other's lives), the two brothers who were separated from each other, and a teenage girl who was never accepted by her peers and basically forced to find family in a group of adult men lol. I'm not sure if you were responding to my rant yesterday with this ask lol, but if you are, I mean yeah I'm on board here. Midoriya is supposed to be that "true hero" that breaks through even the toughest, strongest walls, who in HIS case is Shigaraki. But not just him, Shouto, Ochacko, and Bakugo too. There's a kid:villain set up for a reason, so people who don't want that set up are either just....super super one-sided in how they're reading it, or it's just their preference and they're not actually caring about what the story itself is going to do. (Bakugo is kind of a seventh wheel....lol)

Again, I can't say I've seen too much irrational Deku hate on my dash. I avoid stupid shit for the most part. Most of the blogs I follow, while they may not like Midoriya, they still see the redeeming characteristics in him and still make valid takes on the story and take his actual character into account. But I have seen the irrational hate you're talking about, I've just successfully yeeted it from my dash.

Another character, and I know you didn't bring this character up but I feel this issue applies to them as well--is Hawks. Now...I do not like Hawks. I don't hate him, but I seriously just cannot bring myself to like him. I can't tell if it's his fans that have just ruined him for me, or just his overall vibe in the story. I don't even know at this point I've spent so long avoiding getting to know his character. But--I've seen villain-stan blogs hate him so much to a point where they completely forget that he is also a victim of society and has his own issues. And their takes on him come at the expense of....well, a clear understanding of the story. Now right now Hawks is being handled not-so-great, but even before this. Of course nobody has to like him, I mean I just said that I don't, but this irrational hate that comes at the expense of his actual character is annoying to me.

"I think it's completely valid for people to just simply not like certain characters for whatever reason they might have, im not here to police people's opinions, but when people's opinions come at the expense of misunderstanding pretty key elements of the characters / story they're talking about, that's when I have a problem"

Yep yep yep. I agree here too. So in a nutshell, no matter what character it is, if people irrationally hate them to a point where their takes on the story just stop making sense, yes I agree that it starts to wear away at the integrity of the character, and it also annoys me and I end up just unfollowing and I no longer take anything they say seriously. And there are a couple of blogs I follow that really don't like Midoriya at all, but they don't waste their time talking about how much they don't like him. They simply just...don't talk about him. That's what people should do because otherwise it fills EVERYONE'S dash with negativity that we didn't ask for. That's why I'm glad I've stopped getting so many asks about Hawks because I have never really had anything nice to say about him and after so many people sending me stuff asking to talk about him I started to feel like a shitty person for filling peoples' dashes up with that. I mean...I'm seriously mean to Hawks lol. I am. So yeah.

I don't particularly understand the extreme hatred either. I totally get not liking a character but that extreme hatred you're talking about I've made a successful effort to distance myself from. Thankfully.

#long post #bnha #bnha asks #anonymous #boku no hero academia #midoriya izuku #bnha lov #bnha league of villains #deku #todoroki shouto #uraraka ochako #long ass post #sorry lol #mha #my hero academia #todofam

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violet-knox · 3 years

Text

The Family Secret

Chapter 2: The Knight Bus

Pairing: Young!Snape x Reader

Summary: You start your journey to escape Spinner’s End with Severus and try summoning the knight bus for the first time.

Word count: 2890

Chapter 1

Your thoughts spiralled as he cuddled into your side, sleeping away the events that kept you up. Resting in this house was the last thing you wanted to do right now, but Severus looked so tired, so beat from whatever happened in that kitchen last night, you’d decided to stay another hour and let him sleep before you made your escape. You’d tried to fall asleep, tried to forget for just a moment, but his partial weight atop you, his heavy breaths brushing your skin reminded you of all the pain he went through because of you and it broke your heart.

You hadn’t asked him what happened and you didn’t care to know. All you wanted was for him to be safe and you were thankful that at the very least you’d managed to stay with him tonight. You couldn’t let anything else happen to him and you weren’t going to. You were going to protect him and save him from this house, no matter the cost. You couldn’t go on knowing the abuse he suffered through, the agony he’d suppressed all these years. Just the thought of leaving him here in this house tore at you, worried the next time you saw him, he’d look worse than he did now, or Merlin forbid you never see him again. The thought boiled your blood, and you couldn’t stand staying another second on this tainted street.

Slipping from under him, you carefully removed yourself from his bed as not to wake him. You pulled the cover back over him and watched him sleep a moment as you gently brushed his hair away from his face. Fetching your wand, you silently cast lumos and looked around his tiny room. He didn’t own much, but at least that meant it would be easy to pack. Making your way to his closet, you carefully opened it and found his Hogwarts trunk shoved inside it. Looking back at Severus, you very gently grabbed hold of the trunk, its weight heavier than you expected and carried it out of the closet.

Opening it, you went back to the closet and folded up a few clothing items he seemed to prefer to wear and tossed them in the trunk. You would have found it odd that he hadn’t unpacked the rest of his things when he got home from Hogwarts, but you understood now that this wasn’t his home. Hogwarts is where he felt safe, where he belonged, where he was happy and this house, this street was nothing more than a prison to him.

“(Y/N)?” Severus’ coarse whisper caught your attention and before you could even process the fact he was awake, you’d jumped up and quickly made your way over to him, sitting on the edge of the bed with a hand cupping his cheek.

“Hello,” you whispered back, smiling as he blinked his sleep away. “It’s time to go. I’ve packed most of your things.”

Severus nuzzled into your touch a moment, words unable to describe how happy he was you’d stayed with him after what happened last night. He was enchanted by you, falling further in love with you if that were even possible. You cared for him enough to stand by his side, to help him and he couldn’t wait to leave this house with you, never looking back.

Sitting up, he rested against the wall behind him, his hands searching to grip yours. He held your free hand between his tightly, never wanting to let go as he found your eyes, tilting his head into your palm. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“It was nothing,” you smiled and, to Severus’ disappointment, pulled away. “We should get going.”

He knew you were right, that there was no time to spare staring into each other’s eyes, but he was scared. Once your journey began, there would be no taking it back. He didn’t want to know what would happen if he got caught trying to sneak out, trying to escape and with you no less; the stranger he’d let into his father's home, the reason he’d been punished, humiliated. But bringing you here was all worth it if not to have you comforting him these last few hours. He would have given anything to have any form of care when he was younger, seeking it in a friend with Lily, in the notes he took in his mother’s old Advanced Potion Making book, in the books he’d thrifted over the years, piling up in every corner of his room. Anything to help him forget the reality he lived in, to provide him any sort of relief.

“How are we going to get to your house?” He asked as he pushed himself off the bed, his legs suddenly feeling like they were made of glass.

“I read that any witch or wizard can summon the Knight Bus by simply raising their wand,” you said, kneeling to clasp his trunk shut. Severus nodded having read the same thing and hoped you were right about how to summon it. If what he’d read in the books were true, his parents wouldn’t be able to follow them once they got on the bus, at least, not without magic.

Severus made his way over to the door and slowly opened it, peering out to catch any sign of his parents before he quickly grabbed hold of one side of the trunk as you gripped the other. With you walking first, you made your way down the stairs, careful not to make a sound, your heartbeats the only sound filling the house. Relief washed over you both as you reached the bottom step, slowly walking to the closed door that led to the sitting room.

With one hand holding the trunk, you gripped the doorknob and turned it, but the moment you tried pushing it open, the door creaked so loud you would have thought the hinges were about to fall off. Severus had never once heard that door make such a sound, almost as if the house was protesting his escape, like it wanted him trapped here forever, unable to leave. But he wouldn’t have it. The house may stand here on the edge of Spinner’s End for all of eternity, but he wasn’t going to suffer the same fate. Nodding his head, he encouraged you to open the door and as if ripping off a bandage, you quickly pushed on the doorknob. The door flung open and before you could worry about anyone hearing you, the door’s screams were silenced as its movements came to a halt.

Moving quickly, you walked to the front door and took out your wand, casting a silent alohomora to unclasp the locks on the door, letting Severus led you to the main road. You would have asked Severus why there were so many locks, but the answer seemed rather obvious after everything you learned last night. Poor wasn’t the right word to describe Spinner’s End as its reputation would say. No, last night showed you Severus’ fears for what you’d learn lay on the surface of something much grander. This street wasn’t simply filled with families of a low income, they were broken families, hope lost to them all, reflected in the houses lined up next to each other. The paint on the outside chipped, the foundation of the houses barely holding together, the windows always covered but never cleaned. The spirits of those on Spinner’s End were broken, faith and aspiration lost to all but one.

Each step he took freed a chain around him meant to keep him tethered to Spinner’s End. He was free. He’d done what no one on this street could do and left. There was no turning back and he wouldn’t dream of it. If he’d gone to live on a park bench, he’d still be happy, but the fact that you were with him, freeing him from his prison was all the more gratifying and for the first time, he was looking forward to spending the summer in Cokeworth.

“This is far enough,” you said, motioning for him to set the trunk down. The streets were almost pitch black, a singular flashing streetlight trying it’s best to illuminate the road. Severus cast a silent knox and put away his wand, walking around the trunk to you as you held your wand in the air, feeling rather silly expecting something to happen when you hadn’t cast a spell. A few seconds passed and you looked at Severus, wondering if you’d done something wrong.

“Maybe it takes a moment?” Severus suggested as you lowered your wand. Nodding, you took his hand and waited until you began to feel rather frustrated. Raising your wand again, you held it up a few moments longer before letting it fall back to your side. “Maybe I should try?”

You agreed and let him take out his wand to raise, your own providing light as you both waited in anticipation. Still nothing happened and you were almost inclined to start walking when a gust of wind passed you by, almost throwing you off your feet.

“Alright, alright! Yah didn’t have ta keep calling!” you looked back where the road was black and found a purple bus staring back at you, the door open with a man as skinny as a Bowtruckle clearing his throat, putting on a pair of reading glasses and pulled out a card, holding it such that you could no longer see his face. Glancing back at Severus, you found a look of shock reflected in his face, both of you rather taken back by the sudden appearance of the bus. But it worked. The bus had arrived and you were almost free.

“Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard.” The man read from the card like it was of no importance. “Just stick out your wand hand, step on board and we can take you anywhere you want to go. My name is Kipling Crawford, and I will be your conductor this evening.”

He put away his card, stuffing it into the old drags he wore over his shoulders and stared back at you. Severus arched his brow at the man, unimpressed with his speech. He knew not to expect much from the Knight Bus after reading about it, but this was definitely not what he’d imagined when he pictured summoning it.

“Well don’t just stand there! Come on now!” The man gestured for you both to make your way in and to him, you supposed, you both looked rather silly standing there with all your puzzled looks when this extravagant appearance and introduction was normal to the man. Putting away your wand, you pick up one side of the trunk and walked onto the bus, Severus climbing in after you.

“Woss your names?” asked Kipling.

“Does that matter?” Severus snarled at him, having enough of his demanding demeanour. The man had a job to do and Severus was running out of patience, tired from last night, wanting to get out of this neighbourhood as fast as possible.

“Ya don’t have to take a tone with me,” Kipling looked unimpressed with Severus and continued to speak mostly to you. “We only need yur name to call ya when it’s yur turn.”

“(Y/L/N).” You quickly gave him your name so as to not cause any more trouble, hoping to get through this with as little tension as possible. You and Severus had already had a rough enough night, there was no need to worsen it by starting an argument with the man who worked on the vehicle that was supposed to be your safe haven. “How much?”

“Eleven sickles,” said Kipling in a tone you assumed was him trying to be more professional and less friendly. “For thirteen ya get a hot chocolate and for fifteen ya get a hot water bottle and toothbrush.”

The tickets were more expensive than you’d assumed, swearing you’d read it was cheaper than that and you wondered for a moment if the man rose the price out of spite for the tone Severus gave him. Taking a quick glance to the side, you noticed a few stains on the floor, empty cups with chocolate residue tossed in a few corners. Clearly, they hadn’t thought through the concept of a hot drink on a moving vehicle and though hot cocoa would have been great for you both tonight, it was clearly not a good choice to make. Despite the price, you were happy to leave Spinner’s End so you reached into your pocket and handed the man a Galleon and five sickles for two tickets. Kipling took the money from you and handed you back two tickets.

“Where ya headed?”

Taking the tickets, you gave him your address and looked to your left, taking a proper look at the inside of the bus, amazed to find candles burning in brackets beside the beds, each surrounded by curtains. The same coloured curtains hung over the windows, some open some closed and there were a few passengers sleeping or sitting on their bed, waiting to continue the trip.

“Ya get those two,” Kipling pointed at the two beds in the far corner of the bus before turning around to seat himself back with the driver. You walked forward and made your way to the back of the bus, your assignment likely as far away from the conductor as possible thanks to the attitude Severus had taken with him. But it was no matter, you were both exhausted anyways and didn’t need anyone trying to make small talk. It was probably best you be as secluded as possible.

Setting down the trunk, Severus collapsed on the bed in the corner as you kicked the trunk under the bed. The bus immediately started moving, leaving Spinner’s End just as fast as it had arrived. Unable to keep your balance, you fell backwards, almost toppling over one of the candles that seemed much more secure to its brackets than it looked. The trunk you’d just moved under the bed however was free to move, and as the bus swerved all over the road, you found yourself covering your face and gasping as the trunk came sliding at full speed right to you. Moments passed and you didn’t feel it collide, the bus continuing its maddening movements with no care for the passengers within it. Slowly opening your eyes, you found the trunk frozen in its place in front of you, floating a few feet off the ground before it moved back to its place under the bed. Severus had his wand pointed at it, sitting on the bed as he looked at you in worry.

“I’m fine,” you said quickly, jumping to your feet and throwing yourself on the bed next to him. Severus put his wand away and fell back on the bed, turning to face you.

“This bus is not what I imagined,” he whispered to you in a rather rough voice. You furrowed your brows at how he sounded, like rocks were stuck in his throat. Even now, laying next time to him, you could tell he was having a bit of trouble breathing and you began to wonder if all that noise you’d heard in the kitchen last night had done more damage than you thought.

“Are you alright Sev?” You whispered back to him, resting your hand on his cheek, your thumb caressing his pale skin. Your eyes looked him over, stopping at his nose where you saw a small bruise forming on its side. Gently, you let your fingers brush over it, Severus closing his eyes as he nodded, smiling at your touch.

“Get some rest, we still have a ways to go,” you told him, worried his father had broken his nose and corrupted his airway. At least the hard part was over. You could both relax a bit and try to heal before you settled into your home on the other side of town.

Severus made himself comfortable, cuddling into your side as you wrapped your arms around him and pulled out your wand, hovering it over him. You did your best to cast the few healing spells you knew and hoped it would be enough to help him, but his breathing remained coarse throughout the ride home, your worry for him growing with your frustration. You couldn’t bear hearing him struggle like this, each breath heavier than the last, tearing at your mind as you tried to do what you could for him.

Sleep found Severus rather quickly as he drifted off, leaving behind his worries for a peaceful summer and resentment towards what was supposed to be his home. For the first time in a long time, he found himself dreaming rather vividly, the gentle strokes off your fingers through his hair easing him into sleep as he dreamt of a happy future with you, one filled with opportunities and growth. He could do anything he wanted now. There was nothing tying him back, nothing holding him to that house, holding him to the obligation of his father’s burdens or his mother’s desperation. He was finally free and freedom felt so much more amazing than he could have ever imagined.

Next Chapter

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your-eternal-muse · 4 years

Text

Home

Summery: After months of being held against your will, you escape into the world, and await for the moment when you can return home.

Warnings: Mentions of abduction, vague mentions of abuse, talk of injury, thoughts of giving up, mentions of weight loss

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Words: 2.5k

Authors Note: Wow. It’s been a hot fucking minute huh? Sorry for taking so long. I was moving and unpacking, and getting situated and than I got a new job and so many other things. This is the piece that got me back into the writing flow, so that's fun. I am still working on requests, and while they may not be posted in the order that I received them, they still will be posted. I will also be posting little one shots in between them as well, because my brain doesn’t know when to fucking stop. I missed you guys. I hope you’re all doing well. Also I’m at 950 followers??? That’s insane. I don’t believe it. Anyway, enjoy!

I run.

I run through gaps in between trees, stepping on sticks, ducking under branches.

Every muscle, every bone in my body is screaming at me to stop. To give up, fall to the ground and curl up at the base of a tree and give in to the darkness.

But I can’t.

I can’t stop running, not until I know I’m safe.

Not until I’m home.

The air is brisk, and the leaves crunching underneath my bare feet are different shades of decay.

The sunlight breaking through the canopy does little to tell me what time of day it is, or even what direction I’m going.

So I just run.

Away from the little wooden house where I’ve been beaten almost everyday for who knows how long.

I’ve lost count of the days.

But I got lucky.

He’s always gone during the day, and I’ve lost enough weight so I could slip my wrists through the zip tie that had me bound.

I’m losing stamina, but I keep pushing forward.

Please, god, give me something, anything.

I stumble through a wall of brush, falling to the gravel ground of the side of the road.

A road.

I push myself up, my steps stuttering as I gain my back my balance.

I turn my head, looking both ways down the seemingly deserted road, and I now believe in a mighty being above because I see gas pumps not even a half a mile down the road from where I’m standing.

I start running as fast as I can, limping every other step, trying to pick up a speed my body has forgotten.

My heart is pounding in my chest, and every breath feels like it’s being ripped out of me, but I couldn’t stop now even if I wanted to.

I turn into the gravel driveway of the station speeding towards the front door, barreling inside, heaving for air as I turn and lock the deadbolt on the door.

I flip the sign from open to closed for good measure, before slipping down to the floor in a heap.

“Oh sweet baby jesus above, darling what happened to you?” A woman runs out from behind the counter, crouching down next to me pushing dirty matted hair out of my face, hands running gently over my exposed skin.

My voice is hoarse, and my throat burns when I speak.

“I’m Supervisory Special Agent y/n y/l/n of the Behavioral Analysis unit of the F.B.I.” I let my head fall back against the glass of the door. “I don’t, I don’t have my badge otherwise I would show you.”

Her eyes are deep green, and kind. Worry creases her already wrinkled face, and her skin looks soft and loose.

“Oh honey, it’s okay. I believe you. Can you tell me what happened?”

Tears start to form in my eyes and I can’t seem to move anymore. “I was abducted by someone we were chasing in May, and I just escaped.”

A hand comes to cover her mouth.

“I really need to use your phone to contact my team.”

She couldn’t be older than 50, with long dirty blonde hair starting to gray at the roots.

I couldn’t help but feel the trust swarm my chest, too tired to put up walls anymore.

“Oh of course, honey. Let me help you behind the counter, and we’ll get you all set.”

She gingerly helped me back to my feet, wrapping my arm over her shoulders to help me sit on a stool behind the counter.

She makes sure I’m set sturdy on the seat, before handing me a landline from beside the till.

“You use that to call however many people you want, and I’m gonna go get you some water and something to eat.”

She starts to walk away but she snaps her fingers and turns around, grabbing something from the counter and draping it over my shoulders.

It was a fuzzy winter jacket.

“It’s almost November, you’re probably freezing too.”

Her accent is a gentle southern, like a grandma who makes peach cobbler and gives the best hugs.

I shove my arms through the sleeves, zipping it up to my chin.

Almost November.

It’s October.

I’ve been gone for five months.

October, and I’m wearing shorts and a ripped tank top.

I look down at the landline and take a breath to steady my trembling hands before dialing the number I know by heart.

Three rings, and he picks up.

“This is Doctor Spencer Reid.”

I start to sob at the sound of his voice, a voice I never thought I’d be able to hear again.

I start to collapse within on myself.

“Hello?”

I haven’t said anything.

I take a breath, wiping my nose on the back of my hand before speaking.

“Hey, Spence.”

It’s silent, and I can faintly hear the sound of something crashing to the floor.

“Y-Y/n?”

“Jesus, I never thought I’d get to hear your voice again.”

“Where are you? Are you safe? Is he there?” He’s frantic, his voice rushed and high.

“I don’t know where I am, but I’m safe. I’m at some gas station. A nice woman is helping me.”

I lick my lips and I can taste the saltiness of my snot. “I got out.”

“Penelope, I need you to trace this call right now.”

“What? Why? What happened?”

He has it on speaker, and I openly sob at the twinkle of her voice.

“Penelope…” is all I can muster, but it’s enough to hear her gasp, and then her own sob.

“Hold on tight sweet girl! We’re coming!”

I hear typing, and background voices getting louder.

“What the hell is going on?”

“Derek?” I gasp, bringing a hand to the center of my chest and grasping the fabric tight in my hands.

I lean back against the wall as the woman comes up with bottles of water, and bags of different foods.

Tears stream down my face, and the woman pushes hair out of my face, pinning it back with clips from her own hair.

“Is that you stud muffin?” I hope he hears the small smile in my voice.

I hear a shaky breath. “Yeah it’s me sweetheart.”

“I got her! She's a few miles outside of Chattanooga Tennessee!”

Tennessee? How the hell did I get to Tennessee?

“Derek, go tell the others. We’ll meet you at the jet.”

I hear shuffling on the other end as I break the seal on the water, before taking a long, much needed gulp.

“Are you still there y/n?” His voice is laced with concern, and I can picture the crease above his brows, the shakiness of his hands.

“I’m here.”

“You stay right there, okay? Don’t move. We're on our way.”

The woman hands me a box of tissues, and I take a few wiping my eyes, but my cheeks stay wet.

“God, I missed your voice.”

A moment of silence, and I know he’s trying to collect himself on the other end of the phone, trying to stay strong for me.

“I missed yours too. I called your phone every day just to listen to your voice. I probably left a thousand voicemails.”

The woman opens a bag of chips for me, before kneeling and pulling out a first aid kit from below the counter.

“I thought about you every day. About your voice. Your smile. I just wanted you to walk through the door and say some weird statistic and we’d fly off into the sunset.”

I can hear him choke back tears and all I want to do is hold him, like his pain is somehow my own.

“I tried. I tried so hard, but you had disappeared without a trace. But I never stopped. I would never stop looking for you.”

“I know, Spence. It’s not your fault. I don’t blame you, and I never will.”

Muffled voices in the background and he sniffles. “I have to hang up, baby. We’re taking off. We’ll be there in a little under two hours okay?”

Two hours.

“Okay. Please hurry.” I close my eyes, picturing his smile in my mind. “I miss you.”

“We will. I love you. See you soon. Hang on.”

The line goes dead, and I bring the phone slowly back down from my ear, hanging up.

I take a chip and pop it in my mouth.

The woman stands in front of me, and with a cotton pad with alcohol, starts to clean at the cuts on my face.

“What’s your name?” I ask, feeling bad, that in the 20 minutes I’ve been here already, I hadn’t even stopped to ask.

“Luanne, sweetpea. It seems like you got a lot of people that care about you.”

I nod my head, popping another chip into my mouth. “My team. They’re my family. We were on a case in Chicago in May when…”

Bile starts to form at the back of my throat, but I shove it back down with another swig of water.

I lick my lips, trying to get rid of the sting of the salt in the cracks. “Thank you. For helping me. I know you didn’t have to but-”

“Sweetpea,” she holds my face in her hands, wiping away the tears that are still falling. “You have been through hell and back again. You deserve all the kindness in the world.” She pulls me into herself, and I nuzzle my face into the fabric of her shirt.

It smells like lavender.

“You’re safe now. Any bastard that tries to come in is going to have to go through me first.”

I clutch onto her shirt, basking in the first kind human touch I’ve had in months.

She smooths down my hair, soft and slow, and I listen to the heartbeat in her chest.

“You know, you remind me so much of my daughter. She looks soft on the outside, but she’s one hell of a fighter. I think you’d both get along rather swell.”

She stands, and just holds me, running her fingers through my hair, as I soak her shirt with my tears.

I’m never going to forget her, forget this.

I will spend every day of the rest of my life trying to repay this woman's kindness anyway I can.

Thank you, will never be thanks enough.

Flashing lights appear outside the window.

~~~

I’m tired.

My eyes burn with every blink and there’s an insistent pounding matching the beating of my heart inside my skull.

It hurts to breathe.

It hurts to move.

I’m freezing.

I tighten the blanket around me as medics move around me, getting things ready for when I’ll finally cave and agree to go to the hospital.

But I can’t leave.

I won’t leave.

Not yet.

The red and blue lights don’t help the migraine swimming behind my eyes, and everyone is talking too loud.

Why is everyone talking so loud?

My eyes look across the darkening parking lot, and Luanne is leaning against the hood of a cop car, her hands in her pockets, and she smiles at me, her hair blowing softly in the cold October wind.

But I hear fast paced tires on gravel, and my eyes move from her to the two black SUVS pulling into the lot.

I’m moving.

Thoughts aren’t even processing in my brain, my neurons are stagnant. I’m moving on pure instinct.

The car door opens before it’s even stopped, and the blanket falls from my shoulders in a heap on the floor of the ambulance.

Time is an illusion.

It’s completely stopped as my feet meet the gravel, and I push the dirt behind me, moving towards the one person I thought about whenever I got the chance.

It’s just me and him, moving towards one another, two unstoppable forces about to test Newton's law.

My eyes start at his feet.

His pants fall over the top of his chuck taylors, and I’m positive two different socks sit below them.

Higher.

Closer.

His hips.

He’s not wearing a belt. His holster is crooked. He was in a rush.

Higher.

Closer.

His chest.

His vest is missing. His tie is loose, and the top couple of buttons are undone.

I can see his collar bones.

Higher.

Closer.

His neck, the bobbing adam's apple.

Higher.

Closer.

His lips, pursed.

His nose, red.

Highest.

Here.

His eyes.

Deep hazel, honey surrounding darkened pupils, and I fly into his arms.

Ice melts.

My head clears.

I wrap my arms around his neck, shoving my face into his shoulder, inhaling like it is my first breath.

My feet aren’t on the ground anymore.

He holds me, tightly against him, hands splayed across my back, his own face buried into my neck.

Our heart beats sync. For a moment, we're one.

And then time seems to start again, and I pull back, eyes bleary, and I grab his face, crashing my lips to his in a desperate plea.

He breaths into me, and I know, for certain, for the first time in months, that I am safe.

I am home.

We break, and our tears mix on cold cheeks, and I can’t stop looking at him, touching him, feeling the fabric of his jacket beneath my fingertips, the growth of his stomach beneath my own.

“I love you, I love you so much, oh my god.” His hands are all over me. My face, my neck, my arms.

I never thought I’d get to touch him again, get to feel him, get to kiss him.

“You’re here. I love you. You’re here.” Is all I can manage as I bring his face to mine again.

I played out entire scenes where we did exactly this inside my head while that man did whatever he wanted to me.

I had all the things I wanted to say inside my head, but now that it’s real, now that it’s forged into reality, words fail.

Nothing I can or want to say means anything at this moment.

Nothing matters other than me and him.

A new hand is on my shoulder, and I lift my head to see Hotch.

And so I am passed, from person to person, being held and squeezed and kissed and cried on until everyone has felt the breath leave my lungs, and I have felt the warmth of their skin.

I return to Spencer, and he drapes his coat over my shoulders and zips it up to my chin, before the medics walk over.

They don’t say anything, and they don’t need to.

I simply grab his hand and start moving towards the ambulance.

“We’ll meet you at the hospital.” Hotch's voice is stern, and soft at the same time.

I nod, and climb into the back, Spencer right behind me.

The medics get to work, and I feel my eyes droop, feeling his hand in mine.

He brings it up to his lips, pressing a kiss against each knuckle. “It’s okay. You can rest now. You’ve fought long enough.”

I smile at him, watching the tears stream down his cheeks.

I succumb to the darkness.

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random-imagines-blog · 3 years

Text

Perfect {Christian Bale x Reader Oneshot}

Requested by: Anonymous Wordcount: 1838 Summary: Christian proves time and time again how much he loves you. Song: Perfect by Ed Sheeran

Although you had been married for five years now, Christian kept finding ways to surprise you. He never stopped trying to woo you, although he had put both the engagement and wedding rings upon your finger. When you got home from filming, after a good four months abroad, you had expected to see him sitting on the couch, anticipating your arrival, but that wasn’t what you got. What you had come home to was candlelight from different parts of the house, rose petals strewn down the hallway, and a note upon the table where you often set your keys, hand written with your name on it. You picked it up and read it outloud in a whisper.

‘Y/N,

Darling, I’ve had the last four months to think about what I was going to do when you finally came back home to me. You know me, I couldn’t just sit around and wait, I had to think up something. Do something. A balloon and a banner wouldn’t have been enough, so I had to use my imagination. I came up with a thousand different things, and made a hundred different plans but this is the one that I settled on. This is what you inspired me to do. So follow the path, and meet me where I’m waiting for you.

Yours forever,

Christian.’

You pressed the piece of paper up to your face, and could smell his cologne. He must have been wearing it when he wrote this. And he had used his best handwriting too, not the scribbles that he usually did when he was jotting down notes or taking a message. You set the paper back down carefully, for you wanted to save this note. You kept every love note that he had ever written for you, even the first one that he had slipped under the door of your dressing room after you first met and had a connection on a film that you worked on together. You had a metal, fireproof box of them in your closet. It was worth the investment. You didn’t want anything to happen to them, and planned to show them to your children one day to prove that your husband, their father, was a romantic. Okay, maybe not all of them. There were a few that were for your eyes only.

You took off your shoes and left your luggage by the door, following the rose petals in your bare feet. The carpet felt soft and familiar after spending so long in your trailer, which was not nearly as nice as this house. You blew out the candles as you went on, noticing that there wasn’t much wax dripping so he must have lit them right before you came in. Still - you didn’t want to cause a fire for the sake of romance.

The petals lead you to the French doors which opened up to the backyard. The doors were open, a breeze coming through, ruffling at the tied-off curtains. Outside, strung up amongst the patio and the backyard, were paper lanterns. They were usually only used for parties and entertaining, but there didn’t appear to be anyone else out there but Christian.

When he saw you, he lifted his phone and pressed a button. A song started to come through the speakers. You recognized it from the radio, but you couldn’t claim to know it well. It was sweet, and it was warm, very much like the air out here tonight. You even noticed that he had put on the candles which acted as mosquito repellant, which you were very thankful for in these hot and muggy months. You walked down the stairs to the grass below, raising an eyebrow at him as the blades tickled at your toes.

“What’s all this?” You asked.

“A little welcome home,” He said, taking your hand giving you a spin. You giggled, and finished it by spinning right into his chest. Now you were understanding the meaning of the music, because he began to sway with you. You rested your head against his chest, listening to the sound of his heartbeat. You didn’t realize how much you had missed the little things. The feeling of his hand against yours. The way that he dressed up for tonight, wearing a button up and nice trousers, just to see you. You were flattered, and honored as always.

The song seemed to know exactly how you were feeling. The lyrics were describing what was happening, right around you, and it made your heart shoot higher. God, you loved this man.

“I missed you,” He said softly into your ear. His breath tickled against your skin, and it sent a shiver up your spine. You smiled against him, your eyes drooping closed to fully take in the moment.

“I missed you too,” You admitted, humming contently. “But you didn’t have to go through all of this. I would have been happy with the banner and the balloons.”

“I know,” Christian chuckled, kissing the top of your head. “And that’s why I knew I had to do this. Because you’re deserving of so much more than a banner and some balloons.”

“You did bring balloons though right? You know I love those things,” You joked. Everything was absolutely perfect so far. A homecoming that you didn’t think that you deserved, but one that you sorely needed. He always went above and beyond for you - so you knew that you had to start planning what you were going to do for his next homecoming. He was always working on some project or other, so he was bound to be leaving your side soon. But now wasn’t the time to think about such negative things.

As the song came to an end, Christian’s lips finally met yours in a kiss that more than made up for being gone for so long. You pressed yourself against his body, trying to make it last longer, but he pulled away much too soon. You pouted at him, wondering what was going on.

“This wasn’t it,” He said, squeezing your hand. He lead you through the grass, over towards the pool house. There was a light breeze over the clear water, which looked enticing enough to jump in now. Perhaps before the night was over. You did get some sleep on the plane, and were feeling pretty well rested. A little skinny dipping adventure sounded like the perfect way to end the night.

The lights were on inside of the little structure. You never actually spent that much time in it, using it as storage, so you were eagerly looking forward to seeing what was in there which Christian thought so important. He opened the door for you, and when you stepped inside, you saw that everything had changed. There weren’t any boxes piled up or pool toys or Christian’s tools anymore. All of that stuff had been unpacked, put away and then buried behind a fresh coat of paint and new floors.

Not only that, but a table and two chairs were set inside, and the smell of your favorite dish came wafting over as you stepped inside. By now your cheeks were starting to hurt from having to support your smile for so long. “How did you know I was starving?” You chuckled, stepping further inside to see the candlelight had spread from the house to the poolhouse as well. Long, tall candles were on the table, sitting on either side of a vase with a couple of your favorite flowers, freshly picked.

“I know you,” Christian said with a grin. You slapped his arm playfully, but he didn’t stay by your side long to take the abuse. He moved past you to the chair, pulling it out for you, the part of the perfect gentleman. You took the seat, feeling like a pile of honey from how sweet he was being to you. “And I know you hate airplane food.” He added on, taking his own seat.

“Very true,” You admitted. The man really did know you better than anyone. You really didn’t think that you would ever love another human being this much, but he blew your expectations of romance right out of the water. “So, you redid the pool house,” You noted, cutting into your food.

“I thought it was about time,” Christian said, looking away from you for the first time of the night to take in his own handiwork. “I was thinking about adding more to it - making it like a playhouse.”

“A playhouse?” You asked, putting your fork down in surprise. “For who?”

“No one we know ... yet,” He said, a coy expression on his face. You knew exactly what he had meant though - you’d had these conversations before. Before you even got engaged, you wanted to be on the same page about having children one day. You wanted to share everything with him. Not just your heart, your career or your house - but the experience of parenthood as well. Thinking about a couple of little Christian’s running around, with big sweet versions of his eyes - it was almost too cute to bare. But the time had never seemed right, not with the fame and your constant projects. But he hadn’t taken on a job in six months, you realized. It made you wonder if he was serious about settling down for a while.

“Do you really mean that?” You asked, your own schedule wide open. Now was actually the perfect time if you were going to try for kids. You were financial steady, the house was paid off, you didn’t have to rush off for work anytime soon. And Christian could be there for you throughout all of it.

“What better time than now?” Christian asked, continuing to eat like he hadn’t just dropped that bombshell on you. You picked your fork back up and continued to eat, imagining throughout what could be done with this place. You’d need many more shelves for the plethora of toys that your children were going to have.

“Could you be any more perfect?” You asked, sliding your foot up his thigh as a little tease of what was to come later.

“Is that a challenge?” Christian asked, raising an eyebrow at you from across the table. “What if I told you that I planned to also clean the dishes tonight, and be the one that picks up all of the rose petals. You don’t even have to lift a finger.”

“Then I’d say yes, you can be more perfect,” You said, giggling. You hadn’t even thought about how annoying it could be to pick up each individual rose petal.

No matter how much you felt like you didn’t deserve all this, he had a way of making you feel perfect in return.

#Christian Bale #Christian Bale x reader #Christian Bale oneshot #celebity #celebrity oneshot #oneshot #x reader #request #christianb

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thisismyhell · 3 years

Text

Hired to Kill 1/?

Plot: On the run after killing your abusive ex husband, you end up as a thief in Gotham. Living in your quiet apartment, you’re surprised to enter your home only to find a bald man dressed in black laying his weapons out on your dining table. Apparently he works for Penguin, aka, the person whose mansion you just ransacked for cash and valuables. He’s here to kill you, but what he isn’t prepared for is that you may be more qualified than he to take out a hit. So when you bring his tied up a gagged ass back to his employer, the 3 of you have a conversation on how to move forward. Will you leave the mansion alive and independent? Or will you be forced into partnership with your attempted killer?

Warnings: one mention of reader killing themselves as a threat

Words: 1,800

___________________________________________________________ It was pouring rain by the time you left the property with your bag of prizes. About an hour earlier, you broke into the mansion of some rich guy you had been stalking. He seemed the vulnerable type, what with the amount of guards he always had trailing behind him. So you waited them all out, until they left for the better part of the evening to attend the man’s club. You didn’t give a shit what he did, you only cared about his stuff. And he had a house full of stuff you could steal and sell on the black market.

Once you were back in your building, you started itemizing everything you stole in your head. You’d be damned if you missed out on some extra cash. You entered your small apartment, only to begin hearing someone … whistling? Setting your bag down quietly on the floor, and taking your gun out from its holster, you slowly made your way to the source of the sound. You then met the eyes of a tall bald man, dressed in all black, whistling while he unpacked his collection of weapons on your dining room table. He smiled at you, charmingly.

“I was wondering when you were going to show up”, he said through a stupid grin. “Do you know who I am?”.

“Frankly I don’t really give a shit who you are”, you said still brandishing your weapon, “but I sure would like you to leave”.

The two of you held a brief standoff, until the man rolled his eyes and introduced himself. “My name is Victor Zsasz. You’ve probably heard of me -”

“Nope.”

“Well, maybe you’ve heard of the scariest assassin in Gotham -”

“Try again”

“Okay listen. I work for Penguin, you know, the guy you just got home from stealing from?”

You lowered your weapon, taking in his introduction. Seems like you weren’t as stealth as you thought you were. Or maybe you just didn’t realize who this Penguin guy really was. “How did you find out so quickly? How did you beat me home?”

“You must not be as smart as you are cute. Do you really think a man like Penguin would live in his house without security cameras? I watched you break in and steal shit from my phone. You really didn’t think of that?”

“I’ll be honest, I was more worried about getting enough valuables than I was about the sanity of your boss”, you slithered.

Victor chuckled to himself, and it seemed genuine. “Miss y/n, you must realize the moment you set foot onto his property you were way in over your head”.

“Maybe. But what are you going to do about it?”

“Y/n, isn’t it obvious? I am going to kill you, and bring your dead body back to Penguin to gloat. Now come here and sit down”.

You sat down at your table, now a display of horrific instruments. Was he going to torture you? Why did he bring so many weapons just for killing a thief? Maybe he had a vendetta out for something. Now sitting in front of Victor, you realized you could not care less about his intentions. Because there was no way this night was going to end the way he plans on. You looked up at him, smiling to yourself.

“What? Why are you smiling? I’m literally here to kill you, and you’re smiling at me?”

You couldn’t dignify that with a reason. Instead you replied, “tell me what you think you’re going to do to me”.

Victor gawked at you, smirking. “What I think I’m going to do to you? Y/n in case it wasn’t obvious before, I am a very successful assassin. Everyone knows this. What makes you think you’re so special?”

You smiled, “because if you are so successful, then all your victims are dead. Which means you must be the one telling everyone. And how foolish do you think I would be to think you wouldn’t embellish every killing story you tell people?”

He stared at you, seeming a bit irritated. You shared a look of silence, before Victor started to unbutton his suit jacket. Then his vest. Then he took off his tie, and his black button down dress shirt. He gently set them down beside his collection of guns and knives, and kneeled in front of you with a stare that could kill. “Do you see all these scars over my body y/n? I did these”. You looked over his upper half, noticing tally marks covering his pale skin.

“I did these, to represent every single person I have killed. This is just the upper part of my body. And after I kill you where you are, y/n, I will add another scar to my resume”.

You looked at him in the eyes, challenging him. “And yet, dear Victor, you kneel before me”.

Before Victor’s questioning look can change, you grab his head, kneeing him in the face. As he bounces backward in pain and brandishing a bloody nose, you flip your table covered in weapons over, making them unreachable. Now it’s just you, and him, and the knife in your boot. You go to reach for it, but he grabs your wrist, throwing you against the wall. You bounce back, grabbing the knife before it even hits the floor, and swing at Victor. Slicing him across the chest. “That’s for thinking I wouldn't do it first” you snarl. He tries to lunge at you, but you lunge right back toward him catching him off guard. Your forehead clashes with his nose, causing it to bleed a lot more. He bends over in pain and you take the opportunity to double elbow him in his spine. He lands on your dining room floor, and you kick him in the head knocking him unconscious.

You arrive at Penguins about an hour later, rolling in Victor Zsasz, the most successful assassin in Gotham, right up to him in his chamber. Victor is still unconscious, shirtless, gagged and bound to a 2 wheel standing trolley. You slap him across the face and he wakes up, confused and sweating from the pain of his broken nose.

“I believe this belongs to you”, you drawl while making painful eye contact with the man who ordered your prisoner to kill you. Victor starts to mumble, and you rip away the duct tape from his mouth harsher than you probably needed to. “OW?!” he screams, glaring at you. “Unnecessary!”. You roll your eyes and direct your attention to Penguin. “So. I broke into this place a few hours ago not realizing you were smart enough for security cameras. I came home to this idiot telling me you sent him to kill me. He failed. And now I am standing here with him, alive, as a warning”. Penguin opens his mouth for the first time, “What can I do for you, y/n?” “You can all leave me the fuck alone. I got what I wanted and got to hand this guy's ass to him as a bonus. He spent his time with me gloating, instead of killing me”. Penguin thought about this, and Victor seemed embarrassed. “Penguin, I assure you that is not all that happened-” “Yes he’s right. I also broke his nose”.

“Give me Victor’s job. And pay me double. Or I will break back into your mansion and kill you, while all your security watches on their phones”.

Penguin looked stunned, “And what is stopping me from killing you right now?”.

“Because I have a gun in my holster and a knife in my boot. And if you even think about jumping me, I’ll kill all 3 of us right here. Right now. And then your empire will fall, and you will be forgotten. Killed where you stand by some thief, in front of all these cameras laughing at you”.

Victor and Penguin share a look, one more pleading than the other. “Do it, boss. She’s quicker”.

Penguin considers his assassins words. “Okay, y/n. You can work for me. But consider this a trial basis. More people than you realize are under my command. You have 30 days to earn my trust and prove to me you are better than Zsasz. And if you do not, I will have a hit on you. You seem the type to value your privacy, and I would hate to have all of Gotham threaten that”.

You understand the threat looming ahead of you. If you were in over your head, it was far too late now. Back home at your small apartment, you smell him ahead of you. Victor followed you home.

“Do you really think I’d let you walk away that easily? “, he purrs.

“Well, we both know what happens when you threaten to kill me”.

He’s quicker than before, shoving you against the wall with his forearm against your throat and a dagger in his hand. You smile up at him. “I see you had time to get dressed first”, you spoon feed him the advantage. He sneers down at you, not easing any of the force or tension coming from his large form. He takes a lock of your hair between his fingers, smelling it. “Don’t be mistaken, miss y/n. You and I will be spending quite a lot of time together. See, as you will be working to kill people for Penguin, I’ll be ahead of you stealing the spotlight. You’ll have to be quicker than me, in every. Possible. Way”. He emphasises the last words by pulling you up to him by the lock of hair. You are face to face with the man while standing on your toes.

You looked him in his big eyes, not daring to look away or blink. “I love a challenge, Victor”. You see his pupils dilate at the sound of his name leaving your lips. He moves his thigh between your legs, causing your own eyes to dilate as well. He removes his forearm from your neck, moving instead to place an open palmed hand on your sternum, though continuing to press you against the wall. You let him play control for just a moment longer, before using all your strength to push him so you have now switched positions, now with Victor against the wall of the hallway. You look up at him coyly, “Sounds fun. Now get out of my building before I change my mind about you”. “And how is it you feel about me, y/n?”. You don’t miss his wink. “I think you know how I feel about you, Zsasz”, you purr. You get off the man, and he leaves your building and quietly as he came.

This is going to be an interesting job, you thought before entering your apartment and cleaning all weapons from the dining room.

#victor zsasz #gotham #gotham imagine #gotham fanfic #gotham fanfiction #victor zsasz x reader #victor zsasz imagine #victor zsasz fanfiction #victor zsasz fanfic #victor zsasz fluff #gotham fluff #gotham imagine series #gotham series #anthony carrigan #anthony carrigan gotham #victor zsasz x you #victor zsasz reader insert

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mrsluthordanvers · 4 years

Text

Prompt based on "must've been the wind" by Alec Benjamin? Bonus if it's a college AU? Pretty please ❤️

Song

This turned out much longer than I expected. I ended up writing it today while I was couch ridden because I sprained my ankle pretty bad this morning. I hope you like it :) (I suggest listening to the song first, but if you don’t here’s your warning that this does reference physical abuse)

Read on AO3

Kara pauses her movie and stares at her popcorn ceiling with a furrowed brow. Her fingers resting against her keyboard as she waits to see if she hears the sound again. Hesitating, Kara leans back in her pillow waiting another moment before she presses the spacebar on her laptop but lowers the volume. Her attention torn between her movie and straining to hear anything coming from the apartment above hers.

Just when Kara’s attention starts to drift back to her movie she hears it again, clearer this time. The sound of something hitting a wall and shattering, a glass or a plate if Kara had to guess.

Kara immediately sits up when it’s followed by the sound of a woman’s voice. Loud enough she can hear the strain in it as she talks, the way it hitches like she’s trying not to cry. Pausing her movie again Kara slides her feet into a pair of fuzzy slippers and walks out into her shared living room. She makes it all the way to the door before she stops. Tapping the doorknob, Kara walks back to her bedroom with a shake of her head, thinking of all the times she’s accidentally dropped a dish in her apartment.

Kara stops in the doorway of her bedroom before turning back towards the living room, thinking of the hitch in the woman’s voice. Head swiveling back and forth between her laptop on the bed and the door to her apartment, Kara takes one final look at her ceiling before walking steadfastly out the door.

Taking the elevator up to the second floor, Kara starts reading the apartment numbers until she comes to the one above her own. One deep breath and Kara raps on the door, waiting a moment listening for signs of someone coming to open the door. Knocking a second time, the door swings open mid knock.

Kara’s fist hangs in the air as she stares at the brunette slack jawed. Piercing green eyes stare at her through a pair of thick rimmed glasses. The red puffy skin surrounding her eyes is only that much noticeable through the thick lenses. Raven hair falls in loose curls over her shoulders. A grey knit sweater is pulled up to her chin, the ends of her sleeves are fisted in her hands as she tucks them tight under her arms, shielding her body.

“Yes?”

Kara blushes as she lowers her hand to fidget with the corner of her glasses.

“I, um, well, I thought I heard…” Kara stutters before she takes another deep breath and squares her shoulders. “I live in the apartment on the first floor below you, and I thought I heard glass shattering. And someone sounded really upset. So I just wanted to make sure everyone was okay.” Kara softens as the brunette frees a hand to rub at the reddened tip of her nose with the back of her sweater.

“Are you?”

“Am I what?” The brunette asks tiredly as she tucks her hand back under her arm, refusing to make eye contact.

“Are you okay?” Kara’s voice is low, almost down to whisper like she’s trying not to scare the brunette back into her apartment.

The brunette finally tilts her chin to look up at Kara.

“I think your ears are playing tricks on you.” The brunette says with a soft smile that doesn’t quite make it to her eyes. Kara can’t help but notice how all the red seems to have suddenly disappeared, like the lighting in the hall was playing tricks on her. “It was really sweet of you to come and check on me though. Honestly, I wish I could tell you about the noise but I didn’t hear anything.

It must have been the wind.”

Kara’s brow wrinkles as the two stand in silence for a moment before the brunette finally tips her head back towards her apartment. “I really have to unpack...”

“Right!” Kara snaps out of her daze, and extends her hand. “I’m Kara. Like I said, I live on the first floor, so if you need anything…”

“I know where to find you.” The brunette smiles as she wraps a cool hand around Kara’s warm one. “I’m Lena.”

---

Kara looks for Lena everywhere on campus after that.

She finds her eyes constantly drifting over crowds of students searching for raven hair and green eyes. It isn’t until she goes into the depths of one of the science buildings in search of her sister’s lab that she finds Lena hunkered down at a scratched wood table pushed under a concrete staircase. A bright orange-red knit sweater replacing the grey sweater Kara had seen the week before.

“Lena!” Kara shouts a little too loudly, making the other woman startle in her seat. Looking up from her textbook with wide eyes.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” Kara smiles apologetically as she slides into the chair opposite Lena and points a thumb at herself. “Kara. We met the other week. I knocked on your apartment door in the middle of the night.”

“Right. I remember.” Lena smiles, her eyes scrunching slightly. “My hero.”

“Pffft.” Kara waves a hand, trying to will away the blush she can feel creeping up from her chest. “Not a hero when there was nothing to save you from, right?”

Lena’s smile fades for a moment before coming back. The creases around her eyes disappear.

“Right.”

“What are you studying?” Kara’s eyes sweep across the textbook, lingering on thin wrists peeking out from the sweater. A shadow of a bruise visible just above a thick black watch.

“Have you ever heard of quantum entanglement?” Lena’s forced smile turns into a smirk as she runs her fingers through her hair and leans forward on the table, a hand cupped under her chin.

---

Despite the warm weather it’s another three weeks before Kara sees Lena wearing something other than a thick wool sweater. Her brain comes to a grinding halt mid sentence as Lena passes her in the cafeteria dressed in a vibrant skirt that’s cinched above her belly button and a black crop. Flashing Kara a shy smile and a few inches of pale abdomen.

---

It’s another two weeks before Kara works up the courage to ask Lena out. Her stuttering question is met with a chaste kiss pressed to the corner of her mouth, and a whisper.

Yes.

---

It’s the night before Kara is supposed to leave for the Thanksgiving weekend when she hears the sound of shattering glass again. And the yelling, louder this time. Lena’s voice is recognizable to her now, but the other is new, and it makes the hair on her arms stand.

Swiftly climbing out of bed, Kara makes it up to the second floor in record time even with the broken elevator.

Her knocks are louder this time, more insistent. When Lena answers the door this time her eyes are still wet with tears and she holds the door tight against her side.

“Lena...what’s wrong?” Kara steps forward, halting when Lena shies away. “I thought I heard something break, I thought I heard you yelling.”

Kara tries to look over Lena’s shoulder but Lena blocks her view. Placing a hand to Kara’s chest as she steps further into the hallway, pushing Kara back a step.

“It’s nothing Kara. Go back to your apartment.”

“It’s not nothing. You’re crying!”

“Kara…” Lena’s voice hardens in warning as she retracts her hand, Kara’s chest turning cold.

“Lena…” Kara implores, begging Lena to let her help.

“Go back to your apartment. We’ll talk when you get back from Midvale.” Lena steps back into her apartment and closes the door leaving Kara to stare at the peeling paint.

Slowly Kara steps away from the door, pacing back and forth a couple times before she slowly returns to her apartment. Throwing herself down on her bed, Kara stares up at the ceiling. The noises are muted compared to early. Mostly heavy footfalls and the occasional rise in voices before she hears a door slam and it all goes silent.

Kara doesn’t know how long she lays in the dark staring at the ceiling before there’s a soft knock at her apartment door. Creeping from her bedroom, Kara opens the door before it can wake her roommates.

“Lena.” Kara whispers as she takes in her girlfriend standing in the hallway looking tiny in another oversized wool sweater.

“Can I come in?” Kara nods as she opens the door wider to let Lena pass. Closing and locking the door behind her, Kara follows Lena into her bedroom to find her standing in the middle of the room not moving.

“Come here.” Kara whispers as she shimmies out of her jeans she never took off earlier, and slides her bra through one sleeve and climbs into bed with the covers held open.

Lena follows Kara’s lead, slowly pushing her leggings down her hips before she tugs as the sleeves of her sweater. Her pale skin catching in the filtered moonlight. Kara’s breath hitches as Lena slowly pulls the sweater over her head revealing a spray of bruises down both arms. Dark spots visible where fingers clearly dug deep.

Kara drapes the blanket over Lena’s shoulders as she slides into bed facing Kara. Her breath warm against Kara, her face almost hidden in the dark.

They stay silent for so long, Kara begins to think Lena’s fallen asleep.

“My brother was angry that I wasn’t coming home for Thanksgiving.” Lena whispers into the dark.

“He thinks it’s time I start working for the family business.” Lena’s voice hardens a little.

“Not in Research and Development. Apparently I’m not ready for that yet. No, Lillian and him just want me there to parade me around to wealthy families with single sons in hopes of getting their businesses under false pretenses.”

Kara’s hands clench under the blankets at the idea of Lena being shown off like prize cattle. Auctioned off to the highest bidder.

“That’s what we argued about last time, when you first came to my apartment. He had driven me back to school. He was so happy and said he was proud of all the work I was doing here. And then he said he’d be back in November to pick me up for the gala this weekend and we got in a fight…” Kara can tell Lena’s trying not to cry as she breathes deeply.

“I got you.” Kara murmurs as she wiggles a little, letting Lena close the remaining space between them before she wraps an arm around her waist and holds her tight. Pressing kisses against Lena’s hairline as tears wet the pillow beneath both their heads. “I got you.”

“I know you said you were going to stay on campus and study for your exams...but did you want to come to Midvale with me and Alex tomorrow?” Kara asks softly, as she nuzzles deep into Lena’s hair, smiling when she feels Lena nod against her shoulder.

---

It’s the last month before summer break when Kara finally broaches the subject. Exams still loom over their heads, but Kara knows that isn’t the reason for the tension growing in Lena’s body. Or why she’s been startling so easy for the last couple weeks.

“I want to ask you something.” Kara rolls onto her belly to look at Lena sitting at her desk pouring over a textbook.

“Lena?”

“Hmm?” Lena hums as she scribbles something down.

“You know Alex and I made plans to stay in National City this summer.”

“That sounds nice.” Lena replies airily.

“It is nice.” Kara says earnestly, pushing up onto her knees now. “The lease is for a year.”

Kara knows Lena is listening now, because she can see the way her back stiffens and her pencil freezes over her notebook. Afraid of where Lena’s brain may start to drift Kara rushes to finish.

“Alex and I made the plans ages ago before we even started dating, before we even knew each other, so I didn’t feel like I could break my promise. But I did talk to Alex. And we both agreed that we have lots of space and you should live with us. Obviously it’s only a two bedroom so you and I would share a room. But if you don’t think we’re there yet I’m sure we could get a hide-a-bed and I could sleep on the couch. Or we could-”

“Kara.”

Kara stops talking as Lena turns towards her with a growing smile.

“I would love to live with you and Alex.” Lena stands, slowly walking towards Kara on the bed. Her hand moving to brush back a stray hair Kara had tugged free from her ponytail as they studied.

“And I don’t see any reason we would need to buy a hide-a-bed. Except maybe for your friends to stay over when they’ve been drinking.”

“Really?” Kara asks a little breathlessly as Lena settles onto the bed in front of her, Lena’s knees framing her own.

“Really.” Lena whispers as she leans forward to kiss Kara.

#supergirl #supercorp #supercorp sunday #kara danvers #lena luthor #nemo writes #fanfiction #thank you for this prompt #and bringing this song into my life #it's very sad and beautiful #submission

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fireinmywoods · 4 years

Text

the heart of the matter (is Leonard McCoy)

Followers...friends. I come to you today, hat in hand, to ask for your support in a certain fandom matter, a trifling concern of little real consequence which nevertheless has been driving me absolutely cross-eyed bonkers for some years now.

Simply put: can we please all agree that Bones is the heart of the Enterprise???

In AOS, I mean. I’m not aware of any debate over this when it comes to TOS, where the roles of the triumvirate have always been explicit, though there are a few different ways to identify them:

Spock = logos = superego = head

Bones = pathos = id = heart

Kirk = ethos = ego = soul

So clear! So clean! So universally accepted by Trek fandom at large!

Oh, but things get murkier in AOS, and there are plenty of posts floating around which suggest that it’s Kirk, not McCoy, who serves as the heart in the Kelvin timeline. Even the writers of the first two AOS films have outright stated that their interpretation of the triumvirate had the original roles switched, with Kirk as the highly emotional one and McCoy as the arbiter between Kirk’s passion and Spock’s logic. It’s true that this technically counts as a Word of God pronouncement by the actual creators of 2/3 of the series thus far, which some would argue renders it canon. However, it’s equally true that those same creators also felt that Kirk was a fuckboi and that Benedict Cumberbatch wonderfully embodied their vision for Khan Noonien Singh, so honestly, who gives a hot hollerin’ fuck what those dingdongs think. This seems as justified a time as any to invoke Death of the Author, and in fact, it’s my firm belief that despite the writers’ intentions, Star Trek and Into Darkness both support the original triumvirate breakdown.

Under the cut you’ll find a long-winded and self-indulgent ~*~character analysis~*~ of the Kelvin-timeline incarnations of Jim Kirk and Leonard “Bones” McCoy, reviewing why Leonard is still unmistakably the heart, unpacking what the hell Jim’s deal is, and finally taking a look at some key examples from canon, because ya girl believes in showing her work.

Let’s get down to business.

[A quick warning, as this is starting to spread beyond my own followers: if you don’t like McKirk as a romantic pairing, you ain’t gonna like part IV, so I’d bow out before then or just take your leave now.]

i. Leonard

Independent of Jim’s characterization, it should be blindingly obvious that Leonard is the heart. He’s by far the most nakedly emotional of our seven core crew members, a trait we see writ large and small throughout the films. He’s reactive; he’s passionate; he’s humane. He cares, first and foremost.

Not about Starfleet, of course. Leonard doesn’t give a damn about playing the game or advancing his career, or even really about the Enterprise’s mission - he has no desire to explore strange new worlds, he’ll pass on seeking out new life and new civilizations, and he spends half his time trying to convince everyone else that boldly going where no man has gone before is a great way to die horribly. Fuck exploration, fuck space, and fuck the Federation while we’re at it. Leonard is perhaps the most improbable of the Enterprise’s senior officers for the simple reason that he seems to resent everything about the job.

Well. Almost everything.

See, what Leonard cares about is people. He cares about their lives, about their stories, about their hopes and dreams, about their suffering. That’s why he entered and has stayed in an extremely taxing caring profession, and it’s why he’s still on the Enterprise despite his incessant bitching about everything they do. He wouldn’t trust anyone else to take care of the crew he’s become so attached to, and he finds fulfillment in helping the people they encounter out there in the nightmare of space.

In every timeline, Leonard McCoy defines himself by what he can do for others: the pain he can ameliorate, the wounds he can heal, the diseases he can cure, the small amounts of good he can bring to a galaxy filled with so much absolute horseshit. Unlike most of his colleagues, he’s not motivated by curiosity or an adventurer’s spirit or a burning desire to make sense of the universe. (Fuck the universe, too, as a matter of fact.) Instead, he’s driven by the incredible depths of his compassion and empathy and concern for the people he serves alongside and those they meet along the way.

Sure sounds like the heart to me.

ii. Jim

I actually totally get why some people characterize Kelvin-timeline Jim as the heart. He’s quite literally a different man than the original timeline’s Kirk, and he definitely has more of the pathos qualities to him. Early on, he’s a total spitfire, fierce and hot-blooded, quick to anger and other sharp-edged emotions we’re not used to associating with James T. Kirk. Even as he grows into himself and leaves some of those traits behind, he remains spontaneous, passionate, protective, and self-sacrificing - easy enough to mistake for the heart if you squint.

But let’s not confuse having a heart for being the heart. Sure, Jim is more openly emotional and reactive than his TOS counterpart, but there’s still a marked difference between the way he and Leonard express and act on their emotions.

AOS Jim definitely has a lot of feelings - big ones - but at the end of the day, he’s not driven by his heart. He’s driven by his gut.

Whenever there’s trouble, Jim makes a beeline right for the center of it. He’s impulsive as hell, rarely pausing to think past his first instinct, because he just wants to be doing something, no matter the odds, no matter what it costs him. He explicitly calls himself out on this in ST:ID when arguing with Spock: “I have no idea what I’m supposed to do. I only know what I can do.” He doesn’t have the patience or the constitution to sit and debate all the options, either internally or with his crew. If there’s a path forward from where he is, even a bad one, Jim’s gonna take it.

[Sidebar: One could make the case that the roots of Jim’s instinct to act reach back to his childhood traumas - canonically ignored abuse and neglect on the one hand, and the Tarsus IV famine and massacre on the other - but that’s a whole post on its own and we ain’t got all day here.]

Jim can’t not act, and while that gets him into a lot of trouble, it also saves lives. Sulu probably appreciated that Jim’s gut drove him to leap off Nero’s drilling platform without a moment’s hesitation after a man he’d only just met. He may have been a real shithead about it, but Jim’s impassioned insistence on going after the Narada and not wasting time on the possibility of a better option was key to saving Pike and Earth itself. And I don’t know why Spock was so surprised that Jim intervened to save him on Nibiru, considering that the reason they were there in the first place was because Jim couldn’t sit back and watch the Nibirans die when there was something his crew could do to help them, even if it meant risking a violation of the Prime Directive.

Jim is a good man with a big heart, and he cares about people, absolutely. But he cares most of all about Doing The Right Thing - which in the heat of the moment often translates to Doing Something, Anything, Hold My Beer.

iii. heart vs. gut (i.e., time for some receipts)

I think one of the main reasons Leonard and Jim’s characterizations get confused is because they both tend to act on instinct, only lightly informed by higher reasoning. However, I’d argue that their motivations and the nature of those actions are super distinct, and those distinctions remain relatively consistent throughout all three films. (And y’all know I really mean this shit if I’m out here calling ST:ID consistent.)

Jim is a big picture guy, figuratively and often literally heaving himself full-body into the mix of whatever problem the crew has encountered for lack of any better alternative. That energy propels the plots of all three films: the chaotic path he carves through the events of Star Trek and ST:ID, and the slightly calmer but still undeniably bananas course he charts for himself and his crew in the second half of Beyond.

As the heart, Leonard operates on a more micro level. His concern invariably lies with the individual people caught up in those grand events Captain Chaos is busy dragging them all through. While Jim’s zooming around flipping plot switches, Leonard can always be counted on to bring it back to the personal.

We frequently see this juxtaposed right there on film. Think of that slow pan through medbay in the first movie after the Narada’s ambush and the destruction of Vulcan: while Jim is stewing over what to do about the Big Bad, Leonard has stepped into the CMO role without fuss or fanfare to care for the wounded crew and traumatized survivors.

Or jump ahead to Beyond: during Krall’s attack on the Enterprise, there’s a gorgeous cinematic shot of Jim sprinting down the corridor with two crew members to take on the invaders - and then we cut to Leonard moving slowly through those same ghastly red-lit corridors, searching for casualties in need of help, visibly affected by what his scanner is telling him about the downed crewman he tries to save.

Actually, Beyond as a whole does terrific justice to each of their roles. (Perhaps because it was not written by dingdongs.) The first act finds Jim flailing around for a sense of purpose and forward momentum - an understandable consequence of a gut-driven character having stalled out for too long - and he ultimately gets his mojo back by spending the rest of the film careening through one insane seat-of-his-pants ploy after another. Meanwhile, in the quieter moments between all the mayhem, Leonard serves as the empathetic sounding board for both Jim and Spock as they struggle with deep emotionally charged secrets and Big Life Questions, helping them untangle their feelings and reminding them of the emotional attachments which are ultimately key to their respective decisions to stay on the Enterprise.

More examples, you say? Don’t mind if I do!

Star Trek

GUT: Jim hurtles around the Narada, improvising almost every step of the way and paying the price for his and Spock’s scheme in bodily harm, and ultimately succeeds in rescuing Pike. HEART: Leonard calls out for Jim as he runs into the transporter room, overwhelmed with relief that he’s made it back, and takes Chris Pike’s weight literally and figuratively onto his own shoulders to begin healing him while Jim runs back off to the center of the action.

Star Trek: Into Darkness

GUT: Jim argues with Leonard, Spock, and Scotty in quick succession as he’s preparing to drag them all off to Qo’noS, immune to their attempts to reason with him because, unraveled as he is by grief and pain, he can only focus on his visceral drive to Do Something. HEART: Unlike the others, Leonard is upset not about the larger moral questions of whether it’s right to go after John Harrison or bring torpedoes aboard the ship, but about the fact that Jim himself is hurt and hurting and won’t accept help.

GUT: Jim makes a snap decision to sacrifice himself by hurling his body against the warp core to realign it and save his crew. HEART: Shellshocked by the emotional grenade of his best friend’s death, Leonard suddenly realizes, through the haze of his own numbness and upswelling grief, that he might still be able to do something for this lonely radiation-ravaged body he’s been brought and the life it represents.

Star Trek Beyond

GUT: At the tail end of an improvised plan to out-maneuver Kalara, Jim quite literally shoots first and asks questions later, igniting a fuel tank and setting off an explosive series of events which he and Chekov just barely escape. HEART: The next time we see Leonard, Spock is opening up to him about Ambassador Spock’s death and his own plan to leave Starfleet for New Vulcan - and while he’s empathetic toward Spock (I can’t imagine what that must feel like), Leonard’s thoughts go immediately to the emotional impact of Spock’s plan on the other people he’s closest with. (I can see how that would upset [Nyota]. / I can tell you, [Jim]’s not gonna like that.)

GUT: Jim frantically strains to reach the final switch in the life support hub, believing that he’s going to die either way since the vent has already opened, but spurred on by the knowledge that his ability to move that switch is the only thing standing between Yorktown and annihilation. HEART: Knowing exactly what’s at stake, with the fate of the station and millions of lives hanging in the balance, Leonard’s greatest concern is that Jim won’t make it out in time.

iv. never bet against the heart

Let’s wrap this up with a deep dive on one of the absolute best examples of Leonard as the heart: his decision to sneak Jim onto the Enterprise in the first movie.

As relentlessly as I drag him for the, you know, poisoning and kidnapping aspects of that whole deal, there’s no denying that it is a god-tier heart move. Is it logical? Absolutely not. Is it really the right thing to do for either himself or Jim, as far as he knows at the time? Nope. It’s 100% the wrong choice for his own job security, reputation, and relationships with his fellow crew, and it’s almost guaranteed to get Jim into even worse trouble. Leonard is a smart dude who must understand that this course of action will likely end up coming back on them both in a real bad way. For someone who argues loudly and often in defense of self-preservation, this is a shockingly bad idea.

But none of that matters, because Jim shakes his hand and tells him to be safe with that horrible empty-eyed smile, and it gets him right in the heart, one-two-three.

One: sympathy, worry, and affection for Jim - his best friend, his wild and troublesome stray, his only family.

Two: guilt over adding onto Jim’s pain, and the instinctive urge to fix whatever‘s hurting him.

Three: fear of heading out into the unknown by himself, the agonizing uncertainty of not knowing what’s coming, craving for the security and reassurance Jim’s presence would give him.

“Dammit,” Leonard says, as his heart wins out over his brain. He knows this is a garbage plan, and he doesn’t care. His heart chooses Jim. That’s all that matters.

So he goes back for Jim, and to his own surprise it turns out that this Very Bad Idea was actually a Very Good Idea because Jim’s impulsive instincts end up saving Earth, and Leonard’s not in the habit of fixing what ain’t broke so he figures he may as well keep on chasing Jim’s crazy ass around the galaxy for a while, through jungles and off cliffs and into the goddamn afterlife when need be, until finally one day Jim’s gut drives him right into Leonard’s arms and he suddenly realizes that this is what his heart was choosing all those years ago: Jim’s wide terrified eyes, Jim’s voice breaking over his name, Jim’s hand pressing hard against his chest, reaching out for what’s his.

But that’s another story.

#mckirk #otp: bedside manner #fic related #palimpsest verse #@animetrashmuffin is a gift #several people messaged me when i vague-tagged about this a while back #but you're the one who had to listen to me rant at great length about this while i was sick so CONGRATS PAL THIS MESS IS FOR YOU #mccoy #kirk #star trek #aos #long post

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thatdiabolicalfeminist · 3 years

Note

Can a trauma bond turn into true love over time after both people have worked on themselves and the relationship?

I mean I’m just a person on the internet but in my personal opinion I think that would be very unlikely.

The unhealthy dynamics that lead to a trauma bond are very, very hard to unpack while remaining in that same relationship. It’s very easy to convince yourself that things are different when nothing happens to upset the equilibrium, but to actually build something strong and healthy that doesn’t devolve into old toxic patterns anytime you hit a bump, is almost impossible while you’re still with that same person.

In my personal opinion I think the best option for a person or couple who has realized that their relationship is deeply unhealthy, is to separate and to really identify and address through competent therapy the factors that made the relationship unhealthy - paying special attention to power dynamics and times when one person overruled another’s attempt to set boundaries, threatened the other person (including with harm to the threatener’s own self), manipulated or assaulted the other person, or otherwise made it difficult for the other person to set boundaries. Look for patterns that led to one person making decisions that should have been made by the other person or by mutual agreement.

These are the most dangerous possibilities in an unhealthy relationship, and regardless of whether you are the perpetrator or the victim, they need to be acknowledged and understood before it’s possible to move forward to more healthy relationships.

I think it may be possible after some time apart that these people, now in a healthier place, might be able to meet again and begin something stronger, but it’s really, really hard not to fall back into old patterns when you’re with a person with whom you had that kind of unhealthy relationship.

This isn’t to say that no relationship with unhealthy dynamics is salvageable - when the problems don’t involve any kind of abuse, manipulation, or boundary overrule, I think it is sometimes possible for people to work through their issues and come out healthier and stronger.

But when the relationship is literally a trauma bond, there’s usually abuse in play, and when there isn’t, the way that the people involved are using each other as an escape etc., is deeply unhealthy and points to important trauma work that needs to be done before they can relate to each other as healthy individuals capable of safe and healthy love.

The good news is that after you do that trauma work and really dig into what happened and why, and figure out how to get your needs met safely, that feeling of desolation from being without your trauma bonded partner starts to fade. You stop feeling like you can’t go on without them, and in fact after you start to heal some you can even be happier apart than you were together.

Maybe eventually you and that person can reconnect after you each have addressed what went wrong, but if not... there really are other people who can love you even better out there in the world, people you can love with a deep, strong, safe feeling, who can love you so you always feel it, deep down, instead of that tension and need to prove yourself that right now might seem all-encompassing.

#red flags #trauma bonding #abuse #dynamics of abuse #thatdiabolicalfeminist #anon asks #asks

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zara2148 · 4 years

Text

Fethsteel Fic: Not Good Enough (For You)

So here we go, my take on how Fethry Duck joined F.O.W.L. and met Steelbeak. Less warning stuff for this one, mostly just implied abuse, though it’s clear Steelbeak has not had a pleasant history. Also, both he and Fethry have some self esteem issues... and there’s not exactly spoilers for “Lost Harp of Mervana,” but the new intro takes place right after it.

Also on AO3. Make sure leave kudos and comments there. I enjoy the feel of being applauded.

Huey was placing Isabella Finch's journal back in Uncle Scrooge's study when he spotted the tin can phone there, now connected to nothing. Scrooge held on to everything in the mansion, even seemingly useless things, on the grounds that it may one day come in handy again.

It was one reason why Trash Day could be such a nightmare, though Scrooge was starting to learn how to let things go...

Huey found Della and Donald unpacking their gear off the sub, hanging up suits and boxing equipment until it was ready to be used again. "Uncle Donald? Mom? Do you know how to get in touch with Cousin Fethry? I think he'd love to hear all about Mervana."

"No, sorry, sweetie. I haven't heard anything from him since he rode off on the back of that... giant... fish..." Della shuddered in remembered revulsion.

"Mom, it was a krill."

"A fish is still a fish by any other name."

"You also seemed fine with Mitzy at the time."

"I was too busy thinking about all the Moonlanders we had to beat up."

Donald sighed and turned away from a crate to answer Huey’s question. “I haven’t heard from him either since then.” He shrugged. "But that's normal for Fethry. He either calls every five minutes or he gets so wrapped up in something we don't hear from him for six months."

"Doesn't he have a cell phone we could call?”

"Knowing Fethry, it would just get dropped in the ocean." There was a reason Scrooge only trusted Fethry with a tin can after one too many busted phones.

Huey’s beak twisted in discomfort. “But what if he got in trouble? What if he needed our help?”

Donald let out a breath, more frustrated with himself than anyone else, even Fethry. He knelt in front of Huey and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Fethry is…” Cuckoo bananas really hadn’t been the right thing to say to Huey, not when Donald could see the similarities between the two of them. Unsure how else to finish that sentence, he tried again.

“Fethry is who he is. But he’s also a grown adult capable of making decisions and taking care of himself. If he ever needs us, he knows where we are.”

Della grinned proudly. “He’s a part of the Duck family. Surviving is what we do.”

Uncle Donald and Mom weren’t wrong about that. Cousin Fethry had survived alone in a collapsing sea base for years. He knew the Junior Woodchuck guidebook from cover to cover, just as Huey did. He was better prepared than most to face trouble when it found him.

"Okay, I'll just make sure to write down all my observations about Mervana to share with him when he gets in touch."

Donald gave Huey a smile. "I'm sure he'll love that."

***

“Don’t call us, we’ll call you.”

It was an old refrain at this point.

The last job interview he had, Fethry had spent a full half-hour talking about the eating habits of krill and the merits of singing when asked about his team management skills.

The interview before that, he spoke briefly about the endless silence of the ocean when asked how he dealt with workplace difficulties. He’d been too quiet after that question.

And the interview before that… well, he didn’t think that room was ever going to be the same.

Fethry’s laptop was old. Wires were sticking out and duct tape was barely holding the screen together. He browsed through the listings for scientists on Quacked In, tweaking his cover letter and resume slightly for each.

Maybe he was going about this the wrong way. Maybe he should try for a slightly smaller position at a lab, like a custodian! He had experience keeping things in custody! And then he could work his way up from there.

But the little Donalds had such faith in him. They believed he could be a great scientist. Fethry wasn’t going to let them down. He never really realized until it was too late, but Fethry knew he had a habit of letting his family down.

Gladstone had offered to help, after that big event with purple people from the sky… ahh, yes, the invasion! But Fethry knew how often people tried to get close to his cousin to use his luck. Family shouldn’t do that.

The next listing didn’t quite catch his eye. But Fethry was at the point of applying for everything that came up for “scientist” and read through what little there was.

“WANTED: Skilled scientists for private company in Duckburg. Duties will vary. Flexible work schedule, late nights occasionally required. Must be able to roll with the punches.”

He had no expectations that it would progress to a job offer. How he chose to look at was that he was doing really well on reaching his goal of 100 job rejections. He’d read all about re-framing your objectives for positivity!

Once he reached 100, well, he might as well try for 200 rejections then.

He reviewed his resume and cover letter on the final submission screen. He clicked “Send.”

Then he moved onto the next listing and thought no more of it.

***

F.O.W.L.’s computer settings were extremely sensitized when it came to tracking the movements and activities of the Duck-McDuck clan. They knew when Hubert Duck received a new merit badge, or when Dewford Duck uploaded another video to his overlooked Insta, or when Llewellyn bought a soda that wasn’t Pep branded.

Any diversion from or progress in the Duck’s family’s normal routine could be significant. That’s why they monitored it all.

So when a member of the Duck family applied for one of their vacant positions, it got noticed. Alarms went off, alerting the highest-ranking members in F.O.W.L. command.

Just ten minutes after the application was received, Bradford clicked through it on his laptop.

F.O.W.L. could just ignore this. Stay away from the Duck family until they were more ready to move out in the open. It would be a sensible move.

But there was potential here he couldn’t overlook.

Fethry Duck was one of the harder members to track ever since the McDuck SubLab crumbled into an undersea abyss. Satellite images last had him riding some sort of kaiju across the ocean, which was just typical when it came to the Duck-McDuck family.

When the moon invaders came they had made many mistakes, such as caring more about the acknowledgment of their perceived superiority than how they could exploit the Earth. But they had been right that it was better to have all members of that family accounted for when it came to global-scale plans.

Having Fethry under constant watch at F.O.W.L. would leave Gladstone as the most transient variable. And the lottery winnings and sweepstakes prizes he left in his wake would make him infinitely easier to track.

Fethry was also one of the more controllable members of the Duck family. Neither misfortune nor ostentatious fortune dogged his steps. He didn’t question intention and he didn’t try to stir up trouble for his amusement. He was so lacking in ambition that he stayed in a lonely janitorial position for almost five years. If he was taken to a lab and given every reason to stay, he likely would do so without seeing anything amiss.

His goal was to steal the world right out from under Scrooge. Why not start by stealing a member of the man’s family? One Scrooge was unlikely to miss for quite some time, given his avoidance of Fethry’s company.

Yet for a duck who didn’t believe in handouts, it said something that Scrooge still cared enough about Fethry to give him a string of jobs that he more or less performed adequately. He’d prefer it not come to threats, especially since harm to his family made Scrooge predictably savage. But if worse came to worse… better to have a hostage than do without.

And if he was useless? Disposing of him would be no hardship.

He clicked “Accept” and composed a brief response, suggesting a range of times that Fethry could visit a front location in downtown Duckberg.

After opening up the email and reading through it, Fethry squealed and picked out the earliest possible time.

***

Fethry hummed as he walked inside the address the email gave him. It was a plain building, notable only for its pristine white exterior that seemed all too blank.

He’d dressed up nice for the occasion. His red jacket was replaced with a slightly frayed and browned business suit jacket. His tie was a piece of dried kelp that Mitzy had picked out for him. She always had the best eye when it came to kelp. And his cap was still present, keeping his thoughts toasty warm!

Yet his throat felt clogged and simultaneously too dry. The papers in his hand would be wrinkled if he clutched them any tighter. There was a heavy feeling in his chest that told him he’d be out of here soon enough, and he would need to try his luck elsewhere.

A duck with a dirty face and ruffled hair sat behind the visitor’s desk. Her name tag read “Ample.”

He approached her without his usual bounce. “Hello, I’m here for an interview.”

She nodded and glanced through the schedule. “Fethry Duck?”

“Yes, that’s me.”

“The director is ready to see you now. Go through the double doors over there.”

He dipped forward in an awkward half-bow, unsure if a handshake would be too presumptuous. “Thank you!”

He pushed his way through the double doors. The room was in grey shadow, a large desk slightly off toward one of the corners. Two chairs were in front of the desk, facing the figure behind it.

The shadows slightly obscured the person behind the desk. He could make out a shape but no features.

The shadow turned to him. “Ah, thank you for coming. Please take a seat.”

Fethry grabbed one of the chairs, shifting his paper copy of his resume as he looked at his interviewer up close.

Oh, he knew this vulture! He worked with Uncle Scrooge before! His name was buzzing around in the back of Fethry’s skull, waiting to be grabbed hold of…. what was it, what was it…?

“Bradley!”

“It’s Bradford,” he corrected in a cold tone.

Fethry slumped back in his seat, feeling small. “O-oh, I’m sorry.”

Bradford did not take the time to acknowledge what he said. He sat “So, Fethry Duck. Scrooge’s nephew.”

“Yes.”

“You hold no degrees, no certifications that would qualify you for a scientific position.”

“... no.” Fethry knew how much those pieces of paper meant to people. He sunk into his chair, almost wishing it could swallow him up, the way the ocean did…

...and that was not a train of thought he needed to be boarding right now. Fethry stepped off a mental platform, letting it whiz by.

Bradford continued, neither noticing nor caring about Fethry’s inner world and its struggles. “And yet, you thought you could apply here, for a scientific position with us.” He stood up and started to circle around Fethry. “Do you know what we do here, Fethry?”

“Science?”

“Among other things.” Bradford paused behind Fethry. Fethry couldn’t quite bring himself to turn and look at him. “What we do here... let’s just say we're out to change the world.”

Bradford resumed his circle and came to a stop in front of Fethry. He let silence reign for a few seconds before speaking. “And Fethry Duck? We’re willing to give you the chance to join our ranks.”

Fethry had to swallow down dry disbelief. “Really?”

“Yes.”

Fethry’s hands were clammy as he held out his stacks of papers. His grip wasn’t shaking, but his limbs felt hollow. “You don’t even want to look at my resume first?”

“I’ve already seen it.”

He let his arms fall to his sides. His voice came out small, as if he was once again speaking from the bottom of the ocean. “Why me?”

Silence returned. Bradford considered him over his beak.

“You’re the unnoticed member of the Duck-McDuck family. Isn’t it time you had a chance to prove yourself?”

Bradford wasn’t wrong. He wanted that chance. But the implication that he was only getting this job because of his family...

Well. Wasn’t that how he got every job he ever had?

Bradford turned away from him and loomed his way back behind his desk. “Mind you, the job still isn’t much. You’ll be working in a lab on your own projects, yes. But you will remain under direct supervision for the time being. Before undertaking any venture, you are to submit a full report that outlines expected costs and outcomes, in accordance with our guidelines.”

He sat down, his back hunched to allow him to continue looming from a lower height. “The pay is minimum wage, but you can work your way up through experience. Food and board will be provided on-site, so that’s two fewer things you have to worry about.”

Fethry absent-mindedly fiddled with his kelp tie, his attention otherwise on Bradford as he continued.

“As you may have surmised, your work is to be considered top secret. For the time being, we will ask that you remain in the facilities to better learn your responsibilities. There is to be no contact with the outside world without prior approval. Otherwise, you put ourselves and the work we do at risk.”

“If you accept the job under these terms, a car will be dispatched to pick up you and any belongings you choose to bring tomorrow morning.” Bradford steepled his fingers and looked through Fethry. “Do you accept these conditions?”

Fethry had forgotten he hadn’t said yes to anything yet. He wasn’t sure how he got so caught up that he missed that.

He could bring his team with him, their jar was extremely portable. But taking this job would mean saying goodbye to Mitzy for a while… hopefully, she would understand.

He nodded, then said for emphasis, “Yes.”

“Well, then. Welcome, Fethry Duck, to…” Bradford paused again, his words trailing off into familiar silence. “... well, we’ll just call it your new place of work.”

***

There wasn’t a whole lot to do at their headquarters between missions. The funnest thing to do around here was to play all the arcade games after the kids had gone home for the day.

However, the last time Steelbeak did that he blew an entire paycheck and ended up with only 20 tickets to show for it—not even enough to trade-in for a piece of candy. That didn’t make him stupid, that made the games rigged.

Now he stuck to the actual secret parts of their secret lair, wandering the halls. His wallet stayed full and fat, but the time between missions dragged on and on.

The gun course was fun, but there was only so much offtime an agent was allowed there. Spend too much time shooting things and command would send you over to their quack shrink.

The rec room was okay, but he’d be fighting every off-duty Eggman there if he wanted to pick which channel to watch on the sole TV. Not that he wouldn’t win, but his time in the prison rec room, and the underground fighting ring’s rec room before that, taught him that victory wasn’t worth it if you couldn’t find any good shows playing.

Which is how he often ended up doing what he did right now, trailing after Heron down to the labs. He’d watch her and watch the other scientists, trying to see how what they did tied into F.O.W.L.’s big ol’ villain schemes.

Did he always understand what she was working on? No. Did she ever really try to explain it in an easily understood way? Also no. Did these trips to the labs often end with her metal hand clamped around his beak, hissing at him and calling him names? No, well, yes. Yes, it did.

… he was supposed to be going somewhere with this, but he wasn’t quite sure where. Wait, no, now he remembered.

If he wanted to someday be the one hatching the schemes, he should watch how others hatched theirs first. It was like watching the prizefighter in the ring to learn how to beat him. Some people would only hit you if you asked them for anything, so you had to watch how they did something instead.

Most of the other scientists ignored him, and he didn’t pay them much attention either. But today, a duck in a red hat waved at them as he and Heron stepped inside the lab.

“Oh, hello! I’m Fethry!” The lab coat he was wearing hung loosely on him, clearly meant for a slightly larger bird.

“O-kaaay...?” Why was he expected to care?

A grin was spreading across Heron’s face as she looked the duck up and down. Then she turned her gaze to Steelbeak as she gestured offhandedly at the duck. “Fethry is our new marine specialist. He’ll be working on some of our most important projects.”

Heron… sounded like she was trying to hold back a laugh. What, was this smart guy really good at the jokes? Or did he know a party trick or two?

And what kind of name was Fethry? Might as well have called him “Webby” since he had webbed feet.

“Say, Fethry?” He knew that tone of voice from Heron. He didn’t always know the details of what she was saying, but he knew the sweetly sharpened tone was meant to cut someone down to size.

He felt… lighter, watching that tone be aimed at someone who wasn’t him. Like he was actually in on the joke for once. He also felt the urge to move to safer ground.

Heron’s smile was wide as she continued. “Why don’t you explain to my partner, Steelbeak, what you’re working on? He loves to hear about scientific experiments in great detail. Especially if you use a lot of long words.”

Okay, maybe he was still part of the joke.

Fethry’s eyes widened—he didn’t even know it was possible for someone to widen their eyes like that until Fethry did. “I’d love to!”

“Great!” Heron said in a passable imitation of Fethry’s enthusiasm. Under her breath she added, “Maybe now I can get some real work done.”

Steelbeak’s jaw tightened as she walked away. He refocused his gaze on the red-capped duck, who was all but jumping in place.

A snort escaped him as he sat down at a table. At least if this pipsqueak tried to clamp his beak, he could just knock him into next week.

“So what are you working on?” This was still more exciting than watching the walls, after all.

Fethry laughed nervously. It had been a while since anyone paid him a significant amount of attention. “Well, at the moment I’m just filling out the request paperwork. But I’m hoping to start an experiment on delaying the eating habits of the crown of thorns starfish.”

“The what?”

“Crown of thorns starfish. It eats coral.”

“And that is?”

“Coral is like…” Fethry scratched his head. He could never remember all the big words like polyps, sessile, and Anthozoa when he needed to. “It’s like skeletons scattered across the seafloor that fish live in.”

“Really? So fish just decide to live in dead bodies.” Sounded fake, but at least it wasn’t boring.

“Well, coral is a skeleton, but it’s also alive. It’s really bad when they do die.”

“So the fish live in alive dead bodies.” This Fethry guy was talking an interesting sort of crazy.

“Skeletons, yes. Called coral. Only these sea stars eat the coral, so the fish have no place to live then.”

“Now, these sea stars start off eating algae. It’s been called the grass of the sea,” he explained before Steelbeak even had to ask. Fethry’s beak scrunched up. “Though I have to say, grass usually tastes much better.”

“How long it takes for the sea stars to go from algae to coral varies. And there’s a lot of these starfish in the ocean. If they made the switch all at once, they could do a lot of damage.”

Huh. For the guy’s first project, it had the makings of a decent scheme. “So… if you could figure out how to make them do it, you could have them eat the fish out of house and home?”

Fethry actually nodded at that. “Or if I could figure out a way to slow it down, I could buy time for the reefs to grow.”

“...huh.” He actually followed most of that. Sure in his mind, coral reefs had a lot more skulls than they normally did. But he got the gist of what Fethry was talking about.

Black Heron hummed as she worked without interruption. Fethry calculated the costs of feeding and housing a small colony of starfish, making sure to show his work. And Steelbeak imagined blackmailing a fishing village with an army of sea stars. Small potatoes when it came to true villainy, but everyone had to start somewhere.

***

It wasn’t one of Heron’s longer science sessions. She tapped at some keys, read some screens, fiddled with some gadgets, and was ready to leave in a couple of hours.

Fethry had remained in the lab, drawing up plans for a sea star’s dream home. They’d need plenty of walking room, he’d said, so he was drawing up little pathway designs. Including one for a yellow brick road.

He started to reach out a hand to Steelbeak… for what, Steelbeak wasn’t sure. His body tensed in defense.

And Fethry must have noticed because he let his hand drop to his side and just smiled instead. “Thanks for listening. I know I kind of ramble.”

Steelbeak waited a few seconds to be sure that Fethry wasn’t going to make any sudden moves. Then he gave a shrug and followed Heron out.

It hadn’t been a hardship. Listening to weird undersea stuff passed the time. It was like catching a documentary on TV, without the meatheads that would grab the remote from you and change the channel to something else.

Black Heron laughed at Fethry as soon as they left the lab. "That guy," was all she managed to say before chuckles overtook her.

Steelbeak scowled. “What? What did he say that was so funny?” Was he the butt of someone else’s joke again? He'd make him go splat, if so.

Heron regained control of herself, but she was still grinning. “He didn’t have to say anything. It’s comical that he’s even here.”

The scowl receded and his brows knit in confusion. “I don’t —”

“You don’t get it, I know. Lucky for you, I’m in a good enough mood to explain. He’s Scrooge McDuck’s nephew. You remember, the guy you were supposed to get out of the arcade?”

“The big guy who wrecked one of my suits?”

“Ugh, no! He was the one wearing a top hat.” A frown flitted across her face, but her good mood was quick to reassert itself. Past failure meant little in the face of such a hilarious triumph.

“He came to us, wanting a job. He has no idea that we’re F.O.W.L. and no idea that we’re working against everything his family stands for. We’re holding him hostage, and he has no clue.” Another peal of laughter escaped Heron.

Steelbeak let out a chuckle as well, now that he was finally in on the joke. "Ahh, I get it. Classic dum-dum. What kind of idiot doesn't know who they're working for?"

The grin on Heron’s face slipped slightly.

"This should go without saying, but I know you so I'll say it anyway. Do not tell Fethry any details of your work, your missions, what we do here. Nada. Nothing."

"Well, duh. I know that. That's why they're called secret missions."

"Steelbeak, I once saw you brag about being a secret agent at a bar to try and get a date."

"And why not! They were cute!"

“And you wonder why your recreational leave is so limited.”

“What?”

“I’m saying dumb boys don’t get a lot of outdoors time.”

“Hey!”

A smirk moved across her face before she continued. “The director wants him to remain utterly oblivious, so secrecy is of the utmost importance. He’s not going to be happy if we have to lock him up or kill him for knowing too much.”

Steelbeak did not reach for his beak. He did not feel the slight dents that remained from trying to punch his own mouth open. “And we’re not just locking him up now, why?”

“Because the Ducks are easiest to manage when they think a situation is within their control!” Her voice was raised as decades of thwarted ambitions seeped into her tone.

Steelbeak was unimpressed. He could get just as angry, and he hadn’t needed years to get to that point.

“And what if he does ask what I do here?”

“Why would he ask? You’re hardly about to engage him in some deep conversation, are you?”

He couldn’t quite meet her eyes for some reason. “Well, no, but…”

“Oh, for larceny’s sake. If it does come up and you can’t avoid answering the question, just make something up. You’re an agent, do some lying.”

“... yeah, of course. I can do that.”

***

It doesn’t really sink in until later that night, back in his room, how Fethry answered all his questions without calling him, “Stupid.”

#ducktales #fethsteel #fethry duck #cousin fethry #steelbeak

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la5t-res0rt · 4 years

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this was written several weeks ago in response to asks i was receiving i am posting it now it is very long the longest i have ever made and it is not very well edited but here it is in this final essay i talk about how shitty rae is about black people in her writing as well as just me talking about how her writing sucks in general lets begin

hello everyone

as you may know i have received a lot of anons in the last week or so about issues of racism in the beetlejuice community both just generally speaking and also within specific spaces

i was very frustrated to not be getting the answers i wanted because i typically do not talk about what i do not see but in an effort to be better about discourse i went looking through discourse from before my time in the fandom and i also received some receipts and information from my followers and from some friends

keep in mind that the voices and thoughts of bipoc are not only incredibly important at all times but in this circumstance it is important that if a bipoc has something to add you listen and learn and be better

i admit that when this happened i wasnt aware of the extent of what occurred and im angry at myself for not doing more at that time and i want to work harder to make sure something like this doesnt go unnoticed again

im a hesitant to talk about months old discourse because i have been criticized for bringing up quote old new unquote but this is very important and i am willing to face whatever comes from to me

lets talk about this

content from our local racist idiot that may be months old but its important

putting my thoughts under a cut to spare the dash but before i begin obviously this is awful

lets fucking unpack this folks

right out the gate op states that she supports artistic freedom but then within a couple words she goes against that statement

being entirely canon compliant isnt artistic freedom and even so if this person has so much respect for canon they wouldnt be out here erasing lydias obvious disgust for beetlejuice in the movie or ignoring lydias age for the sake of shipping that shit isnt canon either

also we love the quick jab at the musical there hilarious we love it dont we because god forbid a licensed and successful branch on a media have any standing in this conversation but whatever

now lets scroll down and talk about the term racebending

the term racebending was coined around 2009 in response to the avatar the last airbender movie a film in which the east asian races of the characters were erased by casting white actors in the three leading roles of aang sokka and katara

whenever the term racebending is used in a negative light it is almost always a case of whitewashing like casting scarlett johansen in ghost in the shell or the casting of white actors of the prince of persia sands of time instead of iranian ones

this kind of racebending erases minorities from beeing seen in media and is wrong

all that being said however racebending has also been noted to have very positive after effects like the 1997 adaptation of cinderella or casting samuel jackson as nick fury in the marvel movies nick fury was originally a white guy can you even imagine

i read this piece from an academic that said quote writers can change the race and cultural specificity of central characters or pull a secondary character of color from the margins transforming them into the central protagonist unquote

racebending like the kind that rae is so heated about is the kind of creative freedom that leads to more representation of bipoc in media which will never be a bad thing ever no matter how pissy you get about it

designing a version of a character as a poc isnt serving to make them necessarily better it serves to give new perspective and perhaps the opportunity to connect even more deeply with a character it doesnt marginalize or erase white people it can uplift poc and if you think uplifting poc is wrong because it tears down white people or whatever youre a fucking moron and you need to get out of your podunk white folk town and see the real world

the numbers of times a bipoc particularly a bipoc that is also lgbt+ has been represented in media are dwarfed by what i as a white dude have seen myself represented in media is and that isnt okay that isnt equality and its something that should change not only in mainstream media but in fandom spaces as well

lets move down a bit further to the part about bullying straight people which is hilarious and lets also talk about the term fetishistic as well lets start with that

this person literally writes explicit pornography of a minor and an adult are we really going to let someone like that dictate what is and what isnt fetishistic

similarly to doing a positive racebend situation people may project lgbt+ headcanons on a character because its part of who they are and it helps them feel closer to the character and there is absolutely nothing wrong with that

depicting lgbt+ subject matter on existing characters isnt an inherently fetishistic action generally things only really become fetishistic when the media is being crafted and hyped by people who are outside of lgbt+ community for example how young teens used to flip a tit about yaoi or how chasers fetishize trans people

but drawing a character with top surgery scars or headcanoning them as trans is harmless and its just another way to interpret a character literally anone could be trans unless if their character bio says theyre cis and most of them dont go that deep so it really is open to interpretation and on the whole most creators encourage this sort of exploration because it is a good thing to get healthy representation out in the world

as for it being used to bully straights thats just funny i dont have anything else on that like if youre straight and you feel threatened and bullied because of someone headcanoning someone as anything that isnt cishet youre a fucking idiot and a weak baby idiot at that like the real world must fucking suck for you because lgbt+ people are everywhere and statistically a big chunk of your favorite characters arent cishet sorry be mad about it

lets roll down a bit further about the big meat of the issue which was when several artists were drawing interpretations of lydia as a black girl which i loved but clearly this person didnt love it because they have a very narrow and very racist and problematic view of what it means to be a black person

and before i move forward i must reiderate that i am a white person and you should listen to the thoughts of poc people like @fright-of-their-lives or @gender-chaotic it is not my place to explain what the black experience is like and it certainly isnt this persons either

implying that the story of a black person isnt worth telling unless if the character faces struggles like racism and prejudice is downright moronic

why use the word kissable to describe a black persons lips now thats what i call fetishistic and its to another extreme if youre talking about a black version of lydia on top of that

the author of this post says herself that shes white so clearly shes the person whos an authority on the black experience and what it means to be a black person right am i reading that right or am i having a fucking conniption

how about allowing black characters to exist without having to struggle why cant a black version of lydia just be a goth teenager with a ghost problem who likes photography and is also black like she doesnt have to move to a hick town and get abused by racist folks she doesnt have to go through any more shit than she already goes through and if you honestly think thats the only way to tell a black persons story you need to get your brain cleaned

you know nothing about the complexities about being a black person and i dont either but you know wh odo black people who are doing black versions of canon characters they fucking know

lets squiggle down just a bit further

so the writer has issues with giving characters traits like a broad nose or larger lips if theyre a woman but if theyre a man suddenly its totally okay to go all ryan murphy ahs coven papa legba appropriation when approaching character design like are you fucking stupid do you hear yourself is that really how you see black men like what the fuck is wrong with you

none of the shit youre spewing takes bravery it takes ignorance and supreme levels of stupidity

do you really think you with your fic where a black lgbt+ woman is tortured and abused where you use the n word with a hard r to refer to her like that shits not okay its fucking depraved and yeah we know you love being shitty but like christ on a bike thats so much

can we also talk about this

what the fuck is this fetishistic bull roar garbage calling this black character beyonce dressing her up in quote fuck me heels unquote are you are you seriously gonna write this and say its a shining example of how to write a black character youre basically saying ope here she is shes a sex icon haha im so progressive and i clealry understand the black experience hahahaha fuck you oh my god

on top of that theres a point where this character is only referred to as curly hair or the fact that the n word is used in the fic with the hard r like thats hands down not okay for you to use especially not in a manner like this jesus christ

oop heres a little more a sampling for you of the hell i am enduring in reading this drivel

oh boy lets put a leash on the angry black woman character lets put her in a leash and have the man imply hes a master like are you kidding me are you for real and what the fuck is with calling her shit like j lo and beyonce do you actually think thats clever at all are you just thinking of any poc that comes into your head for this

also lydia fucking tells this girl that she shouldnt have lost her temper like she got fucking leashed im so tired why is this writing so problematic and also so bad

hold up before i lose my head lets look at some of her own comments on the matter of this character and what happens to her

hi hello youre just casually tossing the word lynch out there in the wide open world as if thats not a problem that is still real like are you fucking unhinged there have been multiple cases of this exact thing happening in our firepit of a country in the last five months alone like how can you still have shit like this up for people to read how can you be proud of work like this in this climate

and also what the fuck is that last bit

what the actual fuck

i dont speak for black people as a white person but you do!? im sorry i had to get my punctuation out for that because wow thats fucking asinine just because one black person read your fic and didnt find the torture and abuse of your one black character abhorrant doesnt mean that the vast majority of people not only in the fandom but in the human population with decency are going to think its okay because its not

i started this post hoping to be level headed and professional but jesus fucking christ this woman is something else white nationalism is alive and well folks and its name is rae

if you defend this woman you defend some truly abhorrant raecism

editors notes

in order to get some perspective on these issues more fully some of the writing by the author was examined and on the whole it was pretty unreadable but i want to just call back to the very beginning of this essay where the person in question talked about holding canon in high regard but then in their writing they just go around giving people magic and shit and ignoring the end of the movie entirely like are you canon compliant or nah

the writing doesnt even read like beetlejuice fanfic it reads as self indulgent fiction you could easily change the names and its just a bad fanfic from 2007

also can we talk about writing the lesbian character as an angry man hater like its 2020 dude and als olets touch on that girl on girl pandering while beetlejuice is just there like here we go fetishizing again wee

i cant find a way to work this into this already massive post but

im going to throw up

okay so thats a lot we have covered a lot today and im sure my ask box will regret it but this definitely should have been more picked apart when it happened

please feel free to add more to this i would love more perspectives than just my own.

#long post #racism #raecism #im so tired #thanks for reading

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ad1thi · 4 years

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i was answering a prompt that went the wrong direction, again - so now you get to enjoy this. au - college/university, pining, requited unrequited love, slight age difference (Tony is 18 and Bucky is 22) so its a bit squicky, first kiss

Bucky is aware that his crush on Tony isn’t healthy. For one, it started when Tony was seventeen, a minor - which is a whole box of wrong that he doesn’t feel like unpacking with anyone apart from a therapist - but its turned into this hyper-fixation that he can’t let go of.

There was a time in Bucky’s illustrious university career where he wouldn’t leave a club without a girl (or guy, he’s an equal opportunist) by his hand. Then six months ago, Bucky met Tony Stark and well - lets just say that his sheets aren’t really seeing anybody but him anymore.

The crux of it though, is that Bucky knows its unhealthy. But to truly understand it, it needed to be explained from this beginning.

It should be mentioned, for legal purposes, and also to save face, that Bucky wasn’t aware that Tony was a minor when he approached him and offered to buy him a drink. Or when he intertwined their fingers and lead him onto the dance-floor. Or when they stumbled back to his house, with the intent of having an extremely enjoyable night.

Bucky was not made aware of the fact that Tony was seventeen until Tony’s stone-faced roommate opened the door to them and grabbed Bucky by the scruff of his collar and walked him right back onto the street, and told him that he wasn’t getting his grubby hands on his underage bestfriend.

If Bucky remembers correctly, Rhodey’s exact words, “get your nonce hands off my bestfriend you twat, and find some bush to piss in”

He had a way with words Rhodey did, and the miraculous ability to sober someone up with a single sentence.

After that extremely jarring wake up call, Bucky made his way back to his house on the other side of campus, banged his fist against the door until a bleary Steve came and opened up the door - and resolved to do his level best to steer the fuck away from Tony Stark.

Except, Tony had been in two of his modules this term, and Bucky hadn’t had the heart to tell him to sit somewhere else when he so obviously didn't know anybody else - Tony later told him it was his only non Physics module - and then a couple of conversations during lectures turned into sessions in the library and coffee and tv show marathons and somewhere along the road, Bucky and Tony became friends.

Like: Tony, and Rhodey and Pepper and occasionally Bruce, were invited ‘round for every single pres friends. Like: they shamelessly abused their student discounts and got thai food a couple of times a month friends. Like: Tony had a permanent seat on their couch for Love Island season friends.

In the span of a couple of months, Tony went from someone he didn’t even know to a regular fixture in Bucky’s life and it wasn’t helping his crush at all.

Which brings them to now - 6 months on, and Bucky’s nursing a Guinness while people flit in and out of the house because it’s Tony’s 18th birthday and apparently the entire fucking campus wants to celebrate their resident genius finally becoming legal.

The whole Tony is finally legal thing isn’t really helping with his crush either.

“You should go talk to him,” Bucky startles when someone nudges at him, glaring when Steve grins at his lack of coordination, “you’ve barely said anything to him all night”

Bucky doesn’t ask who Steve’s talking about. They both know.

“He’s with his friends,” Bucky says with a grunt, taking a sip out of his bottle, “I don’t want to intrude”

“Funny that,” Steve says, “here I thought you were one of his friends too.”

Bucky doesn’t deign that with a response, instead gesturing to indicate that he’s going out for a smoke. Steve sighs, but doesn’t try to stop him as he pushes past him to get to the backyard.

He sets the beer bottle on the side, fishing around his pockets until he can pull out his slightly crushed packet of tobacco. He’s in the middle of rolling his fag, filter perches between his lips when he hears the door open with a snick, and he looks up to see Tony walking towards him.

“Thought I might found you out here,” Tony says, before his words get cut off with a shiver. Without fully thinking it through, Bucky slips his jacket off and perches it around Tony’s shoulders.

Tony moves to take it off and give it back, but Bucky waves him off.

“I’ve got my beer blanket going on,” Bucky says, and gestures at his rolled smoke, “plus I’m just about to light one. You need it more than me”

Tony pulls the edges of the jacket closer towards him, and something possessive rears up inside Bucky before he can tamp it down.

They stand in companionable silence for a couple seconds, while Tony waits until Bucky takes his first drag, tilting his head back to blow out the smoke.

“So,” Bucky starts, “you were looking for me?”

“Yeah!” Tony says, leaning backwards and forwards on his heels, “I didn’t get much of a chance to see you so I thought I’d come looking”

“You were with your friends, I didn’t want to disturb”

Tony’s expression changes into something that Bucky can’t decipher, “you’d never be disturbing me”

“Get everything you wanted for your eighteenth?” Bucky asks, grasping at anything to change the subject.

“Yeah I did,” Tony says, before he scrunches his nose, “well - almost anything. There’s this one thing that I wanted that I’m not too sure I’m going to get”

And the thing is, is that Bucky knows where this is going. He knows instantly, but he’s powerless to stop it.

“Yeah?” he hears himself say, watching as Tony steps closer, close enough that Bucky could snake his arm around his waist if he wanted, “what didn’t you get?”

Tony moves into the space between Bucky’s thighs, reaching out and grasping Bucky’s cigarette. He flicks it somewhere in the backyard, and Bucky knows that the responsible thing to do is to make sure that it’s been put out properly - but Bucky couldn’t really care about anything aside from Tony right now.

“Stop me if this is all in my head,” Tony says in a murmur and then he slants his lips against Bucky’s and he’s gone.

One of his hands reach up and cup Tony’s cheeks; tilting his head to get better access while the other settles on his waist. He nips at Tony’s bottom lip, licking into his mouth and memorising it with his tongue.

Tony lets out the softest of groans and Bucky thinks he might’ve died and gone to heaven.

“So,” Tony says in a whisper when they part for air, foreheads touching, “not all in your head”

“No doll,” Bucky says with a huff, “not all in your head”

“Where do we go from here?”

Bucky opens his eyes, and he can see the naked fear in Tony’s eyes. He knows that the right thing to do is to put distance between them, to explain why they can’t work - but Bucky’s never been famous for doing the right thing.

That’s Steve’s shtick.

“I don’t know,” he says honestly, “but I know I want to get there with you”

Fin

#my writing #buckytony #winteriron #bucky barnes x tony stark #bucky barnes/tony stark #bucky x tony #bucky/tony #first kiss #au - college/university #I CAN'T WRITE KISSING SCENES HOW DO YALL WRITE KISSING SCENES #can someone teach me how to write kissing scenes please #this got much longer than i expected it to #so ive added a read more #hopefully it works #this is literally the first thing that's more than 1k in months #so pls don't let this flop

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thran-duils · 4 years

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Watch Me Burn (P1)

Title: Watch Me Burn (Part One) Summary: Fem!Reader x AU!Cas. Fem!Reader x AU!Sam. This fic was inspired by both parts of “Love the Way You Lie” by Eminem & Rihanna. Castiel and the reader are toxic for each other and keep falling back together until the reader moved away. It’s been years and now she is back home, waltzing back into Castiel’s life. She is determined to do better this time, to make them work, but outside forces as well as the scars the two have left on each other weave their way into their reconciliation. Will they be able to overcome the past and new threats to their sustainability? Words: 4,465 Warnings (for the fic in entirety): Extreme angst, domestic violence, smut, unprotected sex, dom/sub dynamics, BDSM trust breaking, fluff, language, alcohol abuse, !!! eventual !!! happiness

Chapter 2 || Masterpost (mobile) || Fic masterpost

The bouncer at the door was different, not anyone that you knew. You wondered what had happened to Derrick, you had liked him. The new bouncer had eyed your shoulder bag and you asked if he wanted to look through it hardly keeping the condescension out of your voice. He had waved you through without batting an eye; the Prada bag and streamlined look of your outfit screamed elite, someone he could not fathom causing any real problems outside of acting like an entitled bitch if your drink order was messed up. Looks were deceiving but still, you knew he was probably wondering why someone like you was coming into this dive bar. You snorted, thinking fleetingly he might think you were from the health department.

The place was fairly busy for 8:00pm. It was Friday, yes, but peak hours typically began around 10:00pm. Granted, you had been gone for a handful of years, so who knows what else had changed besides the bouncer.

Your eyes landing on him behind the bar caused you to come to a stop in the middle of the walkway. The light in his eyes was only rivaled by the dazzling smile on his lips. He was as you remembered: illuminating, his presence a force to be reckoned with. He knew the layout of his bar like the back of his hand, moving effortlessly around the other bartender to get whatever liquor the patron had requested while simultaneously taking another drink order from another customer. More times than you could count, you had leaned over that same bar, demanding passing kisses from him.

He was the reason you were in this dive bar.

Exhaling deeply, trying to rid yourself of the anxiousness that had just hit you like a freight train at the mere sight of him, you pushed yourself forward. Finding an empty seat at the bar, you slid in, placing your purse on the bar by your feet, tucked against the wall. Pulling your notepad, cell phone, and pen out out, you placed it all on the counter. You planned to look as chill as possible when he did notice you – you hoped it was him that came to serve you, not the other – to have the upper hand in the situation. At least for a little bit.

Keeping your eyes down on your work, you tried to focus on your project that had been thrust into your lap when you had been transferred back here – home – from the headquarters in Austin.

You could not help it and you looked up. Which happened to be the exact moment his eyes shifted from a patron, his smile wide and joking, and fell on you. You saw the moment it registered with him; his smile faltered, melting away to shock. Brow furrowed, he stared at you and you stared back. You offered an uptick in your lips at the corner of your mouth, which gave him cause to walk forward, closing the space between the two of you.

“Cas,” you greeted lightly.

He leaned in over the bar towards you and asked over the music, “What are you doing here, Y/N?”

It was not accusatory; he was simply confused.

Playing it cool, you shrugged, “Grabbing a drink after work? Is that alright with you?”

“After work?”

“Yes. Transferred back here just this week. Haven’t even unpacked yet.”

“You serious?”

“Would I lie to you?”

“That’s a loaded question and you know it.”

You laughed and he did too, the ice slowly beginning to melt.

“I’m serious,” you told him sincerely. “I’m back. And I came back to old stomping grounds.”

His eyes raked over you, lingering on your lips. He met your eyes again, slowly beginning to nod as he asked, “You still drink the same?”

Biting your bottom lip, you pierced him with a flirtatious gaze. Leaning in towards him in return, you said, “Make it a double.”

This time his eyes were alight only for you. “You got it, angel.”

Your eyes followed him as he mixed your drink, smirking every time he snuck a glance at you as if he was expecting you to disappear. He was as fit as ever, his strong arms tight in his shirt and round ass accentuated by his black jeans. You swore he had even more tattoos than the last time you had seen him – no, he definitely did. He had not had his left sleeve completed when you had left and there it was, looking pristine. You would have to critique the new additions up close and personal.

He brought your drink back over and you held out your card to him between your index and middle finger.

“It’s—” Castiel started to say.

“Just take the damn card. I need to flex somehow and show how successful I became,” you cut in.

Castiel chuckled, taking the card from you. “Open, I’m assuming?”

“Me or the card?” you quipped.

His eyes crinkled and retorted, “I think that answers that.”

“It sure does.”

Pushing away from the counter, Castiel said, “I’ll check back in.”

You watched him walk away, eyes zeroed in unabashedly on his backside, bringing the glass up to your lips and taking a swig. Oh, yeah. He never skimped you on the alcohol.

Smacking your lips, you picked your pen back up.

Only a few minutes passed before someone leaned on the bar beside you, closer than what was comfortable. Looking up, you found a younger woman leaning on her elbow, looking down at you with disdain.

“Is there something I can help you with?” you questioned, raising your brows.

“Yeah, there is,” the woman said. “You’re making yourself comfortable with someone who isn’t available.’

Clearing your throat, you placed your pen down again. Jesus, Castiel. Who was he sleeping with now?

“Is that so?”

“Stop flirting with him.”

“On the contrary, he was flirting with me.”

The woman let out a bark of a laugh void of humor, “Right. Yes. He is naturally flirty. He is a bartender, it’s what he does and it’s how he gets tips. Don’t be fooled into thinking it’s something more.”

The nerve of this idiot. If she only knew…

“Well, let’s make a deal,” you proposed, staring up at her with seriousness. “I’ll stop flirting. But, if I do, you gotta promise to not completely lose your shit when I go home with him still.”

Scoffing, the girl pushed herself up to stand tall. “I was trying to be polite about this, you bit—”

She was cut off by an all too familiar voice.

“Y/N. You are absolutely the last person I was expecting to see when I walked into this shithole tonight,” Maureen crowed from beside the pair of you.

You held the woman’s glare for a few more moments before tearing your gaze away to look at the aged woman. Maureen was one of Castiel’s regulars and it seems she was as regular as ever because she greeted the other woman, “Aspen.”

Her attention was back on you and your face broke into a smile trying to ignore the annoyance rolling around in the pit of your stomach, “Maureen, it’s been a long time.”

“It has,” she nodded in agreement. “What are you doing here? Trip?”

Shaking your head, you said, “No. I moved back.” You did not miss the slight twitch in Maureen’s face and you almost smirked in response. Almost. “Transferred back downtown. Same company, just better pay here for my position.”

“That’s wonderful,” Maureen said smiling but her smile did not quite reach her eyes.

She knew way too much about the past and you did not blame her for her reluctance to be truly happy about the news.

“You’ve said hi to Castiel, then, I’m assuming.”

“Yep,” you told her. You held up your glass and took a long drink. “Still remembered the regular. He has the memory of an elephant.”

Maureen chuckled, “He sure does. Aspen, want to accompany me over to the other side of the bar to wave them down for a couple shots? On me of course.”

Aspen was still glaring daggers through you, growing more and more upset with the unveiling of this friendly relationship between you and Maureen. You surmised she was quickly realizing you were more than just a woman who happened to just wander into the bar by chance tonight.

“Fine. Yeah, that sounds good,” Aspen finally said after what felt like forever. “Nice to meet you, Y/N.”

It was anything but a pleasure by the tone of her voice.

“Likewise.”

“I’ll be seeing you around,” Maureen told you and you nodded in acknowledgment.

The two of them walked off and you glared at Aspen’s back. What a conceited, entitled bitch. Now you were more determined than ever to take Castiel home tonight.

“Not that I have to try hard,” you muttered to yourself, picking your pen up for the third time tonight to try to focus on your report.

<> <> <>

At the other end of the bar, Maureen turned Aspen towards her and demanded, “What were you talking to Y/N for?”

“She was flirting with Cas!” Aspen spat at her. “And how the hell do you know her?”

Sighing loudly, Maureen said, “She used to live here.”

“I gathered that much.”

“Hey, cut the attitude. I’m trying to help you!” Maureen retorted, her tone tight. “Give Castiel space tonight. Trust me.”

“Okay, I—”

“You are sleeping with Castiel. Casually. Right? Unless something has changed recently?” Aspen’s silence spoke volumes and Maureen leaned in closer. “Trust me. Even if Castiel is a good lay, that –” she shot a look across the bar in Y/N’s direction. “Is not worth whatever drama you are going to be drowning in trying to hold onto his bed.”

“So, they’re a thing?” Aspen demanded.

Chuckling darkly, Maureen told her, “A ‘thing’ would be an understatement. Her and Castiel are absolutely toxic for each other. But, you know, like most toxic relationships, the two dancing just can’t seem to stay away from each other, no matter how many times they get burned or the damage they inflict on each other. No one can keep them apart from each other if they don’t want to be. And I’m going to guess – not to hurt your damn feelings – that Castiel is going to be occupied tonight.”

Aspen flicked her gaze to Castiel and jealously licked at her insides seeing him watching Y/N as he worked, his interest evident even as she was merely bent over her notebook writing away.

“We’ll see about that,” Aspen told Maureen.

Maureen groaned and waved her off, “Fine, if you won’t heed my word.”

Aspen pushed her way to the bar and pulled her shirt down, exposing the tops of her breasts before leaning on the bar.

“Hey, Cas,” she called sweetly as he neared.

Castiel gave her a smile, “Hey, Aspen. What can I grab you?”

“Uh, two shots of whiskey. On Maureen’s tab.”

Cocking an eyebrow, Castiel asked, “Maureen know about that?”

“Of course. I’m not a thief,” Aspen giggled, leaning further in.

Castiel set to pouring the shots, flipping the glasses onto the counter. “Well?” Aspen nodded and he teased, “Well, at least you’re a considerate thief if you are one. That’ll be a lesser dent in the bill.”

Aspen laughed at this and bit her lip, watching him put the bottle back down. He placed the shot glasses in front of her and she asked, “What are you up to tonight?”

Castiel froze only for a moment but she saw it, and in that moment knew that what Maureen said was right.

Clearing his throat, Castiel said, “I’ve got plans.”

“With what?” she pressed.

Fixing her with a gaze, Castiel said, “Stuff, Aspen.”

Clenching her jaw, Aspen picked up the shot glasses from the counter. “Right. Sorry that I asked.” Before Castiel could say anything else, she turned on her heel.

“So?” Maureen asked.

“Shut up and take this with me,” Aspen snapped, handing her the shot glass.

<> <> <>

A couple hours passed, small talk shared between you and Castiel in-between customers. He refilled your drink twice. You explained you were working on a report and he teased, asking if you could do it accurately with that much alcohol in you. You retorted to not underestimate your functioning alcoholism.

When he appeared again, he held out a fourth drink.

“This one is on the house.”

“I already told you –”

“Hey, I gotta be able to flex too right?”

Relenting, you took it from him. “Is this the only thing I’m getting from you tonight, Cas?”

“Absolutely not if you keep looking at me like that.”

Castiel’s smile was wolfish as he turned away from you and you felt butterflies. It was getting close to midnight. You hoped it was still true he never stayed past midnight, leaving that to his employees to finish up the last couple hours and close up the bar.

Aspen was at the bar again trying to talk to Castiel and you rolled your eyes watching the scene unfold. She looked far drunker than when she had spoken to you. It was blatant that she was flirting with him and becoming frustrated with his lack of reciprocity. And soon she was speaking loudly, and you doubted anyone in the bar was unable to hear the conversation from her end at least.

“Are you fucking serious?” she exclaimed over the music, her hands planted on the counter.

Two other women – Maureen was nowhere in sight – were at her back, trying to pull her away from the bar.

Castiel shook his head, ignoring her as he turned around and began punching on his cash register. Aspen was still trying to talk to him, but he was zeroed in on cashing her out.

He placed her card and the receipt in front of her with a pen. “Oh, fuck you, Castiel,” she slurred, snatching up her card. “I’m not leaving you a f-fucking,” she hiccupped. “Tip.”

Castiel said something in return, by reading his lips it was something along the lines of, “That’s fine. Just go home.”

“I’m not going the fuck home, Castiel. You’re being a jerk. I’ll find another bar.”

The women were trying to corral her away from the bar to the door no doubt.

She was resisting her friends, trying to get her credit card into her purse as they pushed her along. “Telling me I’m drunk. Kicking me the fuck out? Who the hell does he think he is?”

Aspen spotted you staring at her out of everyone else who was watching, and she pointed at you. “And that’s the fucking SLUT right there!”

Eyes were zeroed in on you now and despite yourself, you felt heat creeping up your neck.

“Latonya, get her home, will you?” Castiel called out and one of the girls helping her along promised Castiel she would, which made Aspen start swearing at her now as they forced her out the door onto the street. The bouncer moved into the doorway in case she decided to try to come back in.

“Jesussss. Haven’t seen her that drunk in a long while,” Maureen sounded from beside you and you jumped.

“Christ, Maureen. Announce yourself or something, huh?” you snapped, picking up your drink and taking a long drink trying to forget that you had just been called out in front of an entire bar by a drunken floozy.

“You’re already causing waves and you’ve only just returned,” Maureen told you, leaning in and you smelled the beer on her breath.

“I can see that,” you said sourly.

Maureen laughed before leaving you alone again. Scowling, you downed the rest of your drink, now praying Castiel was leaving soon so you could get out of here.

He was approaching you and told you sincerely, “Sorry about that.”

“Nice friend you have there.”

“I think you know what that was.”

“Sure do. Apparently, I’ve got competition.”

“I wouldn’t call it that.”

Snorting, you asked, “Right. Speaking of that, you still in the same spot?” Castiel pointed at the ceiling and you smiled. “Good. We don’t have to go far. When I said I hadn’t unpacked, I should have said that I haven’t because all my shit is in storage still and I’m staying at a hotel currently.”

It was Castiel’s turn to snort. “I would think you would try to look for a place before moving back.”

“I mean, I did. But then I thought that I might already have a place…” The alcohol was making you bolder to divulge your true thoughts.

Castiel caught your meaning. “That was mighty presumptuous of you.”

“I guess,” you shrugged sheepishly. “But then again, I thought I would already be on my back on the stockroom floor by now too.”

Castiel’s eyes flashed and you knew that had tipped things in your favor.

“Don’t leave. I’m off in a few. I’ll close your tab out.”

“Whatever you say,” you told him flirtatiously.

<> <> <>

You barely recognized his room when you stumbled in. Gone were the collection of beer cans and alcohol bottles, his ash tray was not in sight. Clothes were strewn around the room but there was a sense of cleanliness that was foreign to you. He had bought a proper bed, his mattress no longer on the floor. A large area rug covered the floor and you did not doubt that if you lifted the edge of it you would find the stains on the cream carpet where the two of you had spilled so many of your drinks and late night snacks.

His walls held proper framed posters; he had a lamp now, the only light illuminating the room right now. It was grown up. You had been surprised to see how tidy the rooms outside his room were and that had been jarring, but you had been sure you would find familiarity in here of all places.

“What are you looking at?” Castiel asked from behind you, his hands finding your sides, caressing.

“Where did my messy Cas go?” You asked turning in his arms, smiling up at him.

“You approve?” he murmured, kissing down your nose, his touches becoming deeper, squeezing you now to him.

You did. Really. It was a good change.

“Mhm, as long as you haven’t cleansed everything about yourself,” you teased, returning his nuzzle. Pulling away, you turned away from him again, tearing off your shirt and tossing it carelessly on the floor.

Castiel’s hands were at your bra before you could reach it, undoing the back without hesitation. He turned you around forcibly again and he grasped your face with one hand, yanking you to him, his lips crashing into yours. Your touches and clutches were desperate, wanting to explore every crevice and remember every curve of the other’s body that you had been deprived of for so long.

You fell into each other naturally, muscle memory helping you melt into the embrace. It felt like home.

His fingers were on the button of your jeans, tugging them down and you helped him kick them off.

Kneeling on the midnight blue, shag rug, Castiel kissed the hem of your thong above your sex before biting down. He pulled it down long enough to expose the top of your folds and he moaned lightly, inhaling. Hands on the sides he yanked the thong down your legs, tossing it aside when it was free.

Your leg hooked over his shoulder and his hot breath met you. His tongue was tantalizing, causing your fingers to grip his hair to pull him closer to encourage him to go deeper. His chuckle against your sex sent shivers through you and he obliged. A soft moan left you, closing your eyes to push yourself further into the sensation. Throwing your head back against the wall, you held onto Castiel’s head as his tongue explored your wet folds.

Castiel’s hands gripped your ass tight, holding you in place as he curled the coil in your core tighter and tighter with each passing second. A rough suck at your nub drew a cry and he flattened his tongue, licking you from bottom to top before delving inside. You rocked your hips as his speed increased chasing the high that was just out of your reach.

You were so close.

Then he pulled away and you exhaled in disappointment.

“You got something to say?” Castiel husked, staring up at you.

You remembered all your training. You nodded fervently, “Please, sir. I want to cum!”

“That’s my good girl,” Castiel growled before diving back in.

Shaking, you braced yourself as you came on his tongue. You rode his face through your climax, and he did not relent until you were done.

Castiel pulled away, his lips glistening. “That was a good one, angel.” You nodded breathless and he simpered in approval at your exhaustion. “Come down here while you’re still good and wet for me.”

You let him pull you down to the ground and Castiel climbed on top of you, smothering you with wanton kisses. His knees barred your legs from moving, holding you in place as he left a wet trail of nips down your neck to your breasts. You gasped when his teeth bit at your nipple, sucking it into his mouth.

“On your side,” he ordered you and you rolled over as he worked on freeing himself from his jeans.

When he slid in from behind, you held tight to his arms, moaning in tandem as you stretched around him. Castiel held your leg up as he built his pace. He was going to leave marks on your neck, and you did not give a shit. His hand slipped down to your pussy, rubbing your clit in tandem with his thrusts.

“Mhm, yes!” you groaned, arching your back.

“Who’s my good girl?” he growled against your ear.

“Me, sir!”

Your fingers dug into the rug, giving grounding as Castiel plummeted into you. He husked titillating things into your ear as he brushed your core, his speed on your nub increasing. You praised him, thanking him for fucking you so well, begging him to cum inside, and he groaned in pleasure.

Skin rubbing against the fibers of the rug, your breath quickened, begging Castiel to not stop.

Castiel’s arm locked against you when you clenched around him and he followed shortly after with a loud shout, emptying himself inside you. You keened feeling him twitch inside, relishing in his tight grip.

Relaxing back against him, you craned your neck to see him.

“Are we sleeping here?”

“No,” Castiel said sounding sleepy. “I’ll have you in a proper bed soon, angel, despite how comfortable this rug is. Just give me a minute more to relish in you.”

How you missed him and this. It was times like now that made you almost forget.

Almost.

You looked around the dimly lit room, trying to relax your breathing further.

Eyes landing near on the wall, you noticed the drywall was fixed on the right side of the bathroom, and memory seeped in. You remembered that fight in vivid spurts, the alcohol blotting out some of the other moments that had escalated tensions...

Castiel followed you into the room on your tail. Haphazardly, you threw his jacket off of you onto the ground, moving to go to the bathroom to take a shower in a vain attempt to maybe sober yourself up a little. You kept chastising him over your shoulder though, mocking him. “Oh, you’re a real fucking man, Castiel! You beat up a guy two inches shorter than you! And for what? Cause he asked me to dance?”

Castiel’s grip on your wrist was like a vice and you cried out, half in anger and half in annoyance.

“No, Y/N, because you had to go grind on him!” Castiel spat at you, his nose inches from yours.

“Jealous much? Can’t even let me fucking dance with someone else without going alpha.” You leaned in, scoffing. “You’re fucking crazy, Cas.”

“You did it on fucking PURPOSE, Y/N! To piss me off!”

“And?” you laughed shrilly, yanking away from him the split second he stared at you flabbergasted and picked up your beer can from the night before on his nightstand and taking a large swig. The beer was slapped out of your hand, spilling the contents on you and onto the carpet. “What the—” was all you got out before Castiel shoved you up against the wall.

“Well, it fucking worked. So, what now, Y/N?” He shouted in your face. “Huh? What was your big fucking plan! Tell me!”

Recovering, you donned a self-satisfied mask, not wanting him to get the better of you. Throwing your hands out sheepishly, you told him, “I just like winding you up. Sometimes it makes the sex better.”

Rage radiated off of him as he let out a half laugh, his smile more ferocious than anything. You barely registered his face drop before he cocked his arm back, his fist breaking through the drywall right next to your head.

“That how angry you like to make me?” He resumed yelling in your face, and you could not hide your shock, your mouth falling open. “Too far? Right there? You tell me, you manipulative bitch!”

Fury tore through you now that he even dared to do that. “Oh, you wanna hit me now, you asshole? Is that it?”

“Oh, fuck off, Y/N!” Castiel snarled at you, turning away from you, his fist white from the debris falling from the hole.

“You don’t just get to walk off now!”

“Back off!” Castiel shouted at you over his shoulder, walking out of the bedroom and slamming the door behind him so roughly it shook the frame.

Your hand was on the door handle, throwing it open to follow him. You were not finished with him yet…

It was patched like it had never happened, your memory serving as the only evidence it had ever been broken in the first place. Your eyes traveled around the room, taking in the memories from each corner of this room where you had spent such a substantial time. Each crevice held a memory, some good, some bad.

The past would not determine the future, you told yourself firmly. You would not let it.

Castiel had fallen asleep on the rug even though he had said he was not going to. Reaching up, you tugged the folded blanket off the end of the bed and threw it around the pair of you.

You snuggled in closer to him, holding onto his arm tightly, willing yourself to fall asleep comfortably in his arms.

pic source (i know that pinterest is the *least* source reliable but that’s where I found it!)

~~~

CASTIEL FOREVER TAGS: @willowing-love @perseusandmedusa @greenappleeyes @afanofmanystuffs @earthtokace @shikaros-blog @marisayouass @splendidcas

#castiel x reader #au!castiel x reader #au!castiel fic #au!castiel #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfic #au supernatural fic #au spn fic #my shit #castiel fic

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