#and curt woke up to correct him

[nicxl333]

hello

Could you write about bllk boy accidentally hurting their s/o badly.

It's okay if you're too busy. No pressure

BABY YOU SOLD ME A DREAM

characters: isagi yoichi, mikage reo, nagi seishiro, barou shouei, itoshi rin

content: major angst, reader is female coded (wears a dress, heels and makeup), mentions of smut in barou’s part but nothing actually happens (lol), vulgar language

☆彡 ISAGI YOICHI

“you think you know better than me? do me a favour and go find someone else who has the time to put up with your bullshit. ‘cause it won’t be me.”

you lay in your cold, desolate bed for the umpteenth time this week alone, which, considering it was only wednesday showed just how often isagi trained past late hours. as much as you understood his passion to climb to the top, it was simply neglect at this point. to you and to himself. you woke up, he was gone. you went to sleep, he wasn’t beside you.

of course, things were never like this in the beginning. he used to be around, take you out, nurture you and show you devoted love for you each and every time.

until he wasn’t.

once his team reached the quarterfinals of the champions league a while back, he changed. 2 hour training sessions in the evening turned into 4, and the time he spent with you halved as a result. it made you feel lonely and simply put, abandoned.

your texts querying his location and when he was coming home lay unanswered and unopened, probably within the confinement of his phone which lay in his bag during training. so you went to bed alone like you always did, missing what your relationship used to be.

as you stared at the pristine, bare white ceiling you heard a key in the lock of the front door. a few moments passed and the door pushed open, pads of feet resounding in the apartment.

you decided to go meet him in the living room, wanting to know if he’s at least okay.

as you entered the room, you were met with his figure, donned in black sweatpants paired with a black compression shirt. his normal post-training gear. the same gear that never failed to make you melt each and every time. he glanced at you in your nightwear and weary expression, due to him returning back so late.

“hey ‘ichi, how was training?”

“alright.”

you immediately frowned. outside the pitch he was never so curt and void of language. especially with you.

you ventured closer towards him, trying to debunk his guarded persona.

“are you sure? did anything happen to you?” you stepped closer still, till you were right in front of him, immediately noticing his dark circles, even in the dim lighting of the living room from the hallway light. you attempted to give him a hug, shrinking back in disappointment once he shrugged you off.

“i said it was alright. i’m fine, just go back to bed, i’ll join in a bit.”

bullshit. you knew full and well he would just retire to the sofa, watching playbacks of his games to further evaluate his performance. even when he wasn’t working physically he would somehow manage to work himself further mentally.

“yoichi. what’s wrong baby?”

“y/n, i won’t repeat myself again. go to bed.”

you stood there in disbelief. as far as you were concerned, you hadn’t done anything wrong, so it’s quite unbelievable that he would take whatever happened today out on you.

“isagi,” you made sure to use his last name to make aware you weren’t fucking around. “come correct with me please. i haven’t done anything to you and i’m concerned for your well-being. you’ve been going to sleep late, training until ungodly hours. this isn’t good for you and i’m now on the receiving end of your misery, god knows why.”

the tone in the room shifted, isagi, now displaying a scowl across his features at your rebuttal. yes, he was well aware he was maltreating himself, but to have you acknowledge his moment of weakness gave him an displeasing itch of anger that no one could scratch, not even you.

before he could think, the next words that flew out of his mouth changed the status of your relationship, whether he meant to or not.

“you think you know better than me? do me a favour and go find someone else who has the time to put up with your bullshit. ‘cause it won’t be me.”

you instantaneously drew back, his words punching you in the gut and twisting your insides. your heart leapt and fell, never expecting those words, out of isagi’s mouth of all people.

it was deathly silent for a moment, both parties having a staring match. you fought back tears, trying so damn hard to not allow him to see how his words affected you. alas, your emotions got the best of you.

you lightly sniffled, before balling your hands into fists. “you know what yoichi? fuck you, i’m done.”

you turned on your heel and made a beeline towards your shared bedroom, grabbing your biggest duffel and shoving clothes into them, not minding what it was that you picked up. only once isagi was the only individual in the living room did he snap out of his state, realising the weight of his words. he listened to the loud shuffling, registering that he may have just fucked his relationship over for good.

he swiftly followed you, watching you in a frenzy, having just changed into an outfit suitable enough for outside. it was then that he grasped you were serious, and slipped into full panic mode.

“y/n! y/n please baby, i didn’t mean any of that! don’t leave me.” he reached for your arm, falling apart, the same way you did moments before, when you pulled away from his touch. you knew if you succumbed to his pleas you might— might just stay. but you couldn’t. his words resonated within you and made you accept that fact that you needed space at the most, before your relationship delved into something irreparable.

you stood, duffel bag slung on your shoulder, tears running down each cheek, until they conjoined at your chin.

“isagi, i can’t. not right now. not when emotions are running this high. i need space. we should probably talk when we’re both calmed down. i’ll be at meguru’s house so you don’t need to worry about where i am.”

he respected your wishes, he had no choice. if he wanted this relationship to survive he had to.

so he let you go.

☆彡 MIKAGE REO

“you’re very much subpar, do you think i need to keep you around? my name alone will help find me someone better than you.”

one thing about mikage reo that really ticked you off was his obsession over his best friend, nagi. simply put,

he was always there.

when you were chilling together, when you went out, even after date nights he would come to your shared condo, playing video games with your boyfriend until god knows what time in the morning. it always felt like you had to share and fight for reo’s attention, which was pretty much a losing battle considering reo gave nagi as much of his attention to nagi as he did.

you did your best to not voice your concerns to him, withholding your true feelings, that you did. but sometimes there’s just moments where you can’t help but snap.

and that moment came at your first year anniversary dinner with reo. hell, you should’ve called it your first year anniversary dinner with yourself, considering the fucker didn’t even show up.

you had dolled yourself up so nicely, a sexy silk black dress (purchased with your own money, you didn’t like to depend on reo too much) with matching heels. your makeup was done flawlessly and not a hair out of place.

you sat at an expensive table at an expensive restaurant, sipping over-expensive wine while you waited for him to show up. you hadn’t seen him since this morning, due to him training all day today, but you had planned this dinner with him together a month ago, reservations and all, with reminders here and there about the upcoming date.

you had waited for about an hour, taking into consideration that there could be traffic, although you hadn’t experienced any on the way here, thus giving him the benefit of the doubt.

however, when no signs showed of him arriving you turned to a waiter and excused yourself, paying the bill and walking out to collect your car from the valet.

once it was brought to you and you were seated, ready to drive off, the first thing you did was call reo via the bluetooth feature, beyond pissed off.

after a few rings he picked up, the sounds of video game gunfire audible in the background.

“y/n? what’s up? where are you?”

you scoffed incredulously, ignoring the city lights whizzing past you as you drove on the highway.

“what’s up? where am i? reo, do you know what day it is today?”

“no, why?”

you gripped the leather of your steering wheel, your frustration hitting a boiling point. “you cannot be serious. does our one year anniversary ring any bells, huh? the fact that i’ve reminded you, time and time again? you stood me up reo! what could you have possibly been doing that was more important than remembering a big milestone in our relationship?!”

he didn’t even have to answer for you, because the answer came in the form of a “reo, why did you stop? our team just lost.”

nagi seishiro.

if you weren’t angry before, you were absolutely livid now.

“reo, so you mean to tell me that spending time with your friend was more important than remembering your one year anniversary with your girlfriend? do i mean nothing to you?”

“y/n it’s not that deep, we can just reschedule for tomorrow or something.” you could hear his exasperation through the phone. the audacity of him, considering he was completely at fault here.

“not that deep? not that deep?! you let me sit there for over an hour in an upscale restaurant by myself and didn’t even think to worry about where i was! why is it not getting through to you that you missed our anniversary to play games? you see nagi everyday, whether it’s at training or at home. you mean to tell me that you couldn’t bear to not see him for one singular day out of the week?”

there were probably a ton of possibilities and explanations for why he said what he said next, but if you had to choose, it would probably be the fact that nagi could most likely hear the argument over the phone, which lead reo to attempt to regain control over the situation, by any means possible, to not appear weak.

“you’re very much subpar, do you think i need to keep you around? my name alone will help find me someone better than you.”

oh. you see how it is.

his words stunned you into silence, knocking the wind out of you. the only sounds that could be heard was the continuous tapping from reo’s controller and the low hum of your engine as you drove.

“look y/n i’m busy now, so we can talk later when you’re ho-”

you didn’t wanna hear what else he had to say, hanging up the call via the steering wheel and letting out a deep breath you didn’t realise you were holding.

without fail you indicated to turn off the highway, making your way to the nearest hotel. nevermind the fact that you didn’t have any clothes, you simply couldn’t handle seeing reo after the way he just wounded you.

once at the hotel and settled in your room you lay swaddled in the crisp white blankets. without any external eyes being able to see your state you let all walls crumble, tears cascading down in waves as you let all the previous bottled emotions fly free.

unbeknownst to you, your phone lay on the side table, softly vibrating whilst the screen lit up to show a picture of you and reo at a theme park, a call coming though from him.

it lay unanswered.

☆彡 NAGI SEISHIRO

“being in a relationship is a hassle already, i shouldn’t have to deal with you bitching and whining on top of that.”

you awoke to the sounds of rapid gunfire emanating from the living room, sighing to yourself. once again, nagi was devoting himself to a night of endless gaming.

it was a never-ending cycle. when he wasn't gaming, he was training and vice versa. as much as you loved and embraced the fact that nagi was lazy, he could at least make some effort to give you attention every once in a while.

rubbing the sleep away from your eyes you trudged your way through the apartment wearily, before being met with his figure, hunched on the sofa, eyes glued to the screen in front of him.

"sei, when are you coming to bed? i miss you."

"in a bit y/n."

"sei baby you said that last night, and i came back to you passed out on the sofa. the bluelight isn't good for you, especially so late."

he barely was around as it is, but when he was, he either slept, or was parked on the sofa.

it made you feel unappreciated, and majorly unloved. he never made the effort to take you out, tell you that you ever looked pretty or even acknowledge you anymore. to you at this point he was practically a roommate with a shoddy title that really shouldn't apply to the both of you.

"y/n, just leave me alone for now. i'm too tired to get into it with you."

"so you're too tired to argue with me being concerned for your wellbeing, but not too tired to invest your time into games, which ultimately drains your thought processes more? really sei?"

he was still focusing on the tv instead of your words, which ticked you off. so, determined to get his full attention, for once, you walked towards the tv and stood directly in front of it, blocking his vision, arms crossed and frowning.

"what the hell y/n? you made me lose."

"seishiro, can you stop being an ass for just a second and focus on me and what i have to say?”

faced with no way out, he had to oblige, placing the controller down with a heavy sigh, letting you know he was agitated. you couldn’t give a flying fuck though. you’d had enough of being neglected by nagi, and weren’t going to let him off this time.

“you don’t spend time with me anymore. you never take me out, we don’t ever talk to each other anymore. is it so bad for me to want to spend time with my boyfriend? is a game really more important than me? or is being with me detrimental to you in some way?”

he rolled his eyes, sinking back into the soft material of the sofa, irises piercing into yours. you shrunk back at his change in demeanour.

“being in a relationship is a hassle already, i shouldn’t have to deal with you bitching and whining on top of that.”

huh?

“nagi, where is this coming from? what do you mean being in a relationship is a hassl- i’m a hassle?”

he shrugged while rising to his feet, placing a hand behind his head and massaging his neck.

“i said what i said didn’t i? look, i’m going to bed, happy now? i don’t wanna argue with you, you’re too loud when you’re angry.”

you stood in shock, registering his words fully before swallowing and deeply inhaling.

“forget it nagi, i’m leaving. lose my number.”

“leaving to go where?” he watched as you briskly walked to the bedroom, following you in as you changed, grabbing your phone and keys.

“that’s none of your concern anymore. i’m breaking up with you.”

he said nothing as you walked to the front door, leaving with a final slam.

he should’ve stopped you, he really should’ve, for he would come to realise soon enough that allowing you to go,

would be one of the worst decisions he ever made.

☆彡 BAROU SHOUEI

“oi, i didn’t get into a relationship with you just so you can make my life harder. fix up or leave.”

when you asked barou out, you knew damn well what you were signing up for. considering he was so headstrong, particularly when it came to football, there would be moments where he might be nonchalant or absent.

what you didn’t anticipate, would be just how bad he would get.

once his mind was focused on football, specifically climbing his way to the top, there were no distractions, especially from his girlfriend, who at times he deemed his biggest distraction.

you did try to help and aid him every way you could, cooking him meals to eat after late night practices, tending to his injuries he may obtain after over-intensive sessions, cleaning up the apartment flawlessly so he wouldn’t be tempted to do it himself. all you really wanted in return was love.

surely that wasn’t too much to ask for, right?

wrong.

even after 7 months of dating, public outings with attempts to hold his hand resulted in subtle swatting away, instead opting to walk side by side. laying in bed together? don’t expect any cuddles from him. quite laughable actually that you’d ever think he’d be willing to do that. don’t think movie nights will be any different either. you’d better be keeping your hands to yourself.

fucking was a rarity, only really when he was very much pent up with frustration from football, libido overflowing from lack of release. and even then, while you were able to cum, that’s pretty much all there was to it. no making love or anything like that. he wouldn’t display his emotions to you enough in the first place for that to ever happen.

when you asked barou out, you knew damn well what you were signing up for. but you didn’t know it would be this hard. you figured he would loosen up eventually, getting used to at least some form of affection towards you. a little peck on the lips, or a hug from behind every once in a while would be nice.

one day, you simply grew tired. you were sitting on the dining table with him, having just finished dinner. barou stood up, ready to leave the table to shower.

“shouei.”

he stopped in his tracks, pivoting on one heel to turn and face you. his face remained blank, save for his usual signature eyebrow, arched in waiting.

“hm?”

“i-” you suddenly grew self conscious, afraid to voice your concerns to him. if you wanted things to change however, this conversation had to happen sooner rather than later.

“can we do more stuff together?”

his face now contorted into utter confusion, genuinely puzzled by what you were trying to say.

“what do you mean? i do enough with you do i not?”

“no, not that that sho’, i mean more couples stuff. like…couldn’t you just be more affectionate? i just— i don’t know how you feel about me at certain points, you don’t tell me anything as it is.”

he looked at you, playing with your hands, trying to look anywhere but him, clearly uncomfortable about this conversation.

“cmon y/n, you know how it goes already, i’m not into shit like that. i may like you and all, but all that lovey-dovey stuff? that ain’t me. never has and never will be. surely you should understand how i feel about you? the fact that i’ve kept you around this long should say more than enough.”

damn. fucking cold. either way, you weren’t backing down. you stood there, holding a firm staring competition with him before opening your mouth to speak.

“shouei, it’s been 7 months and news flash! it doesn’t. when you do shit like this, it makes me feel fucking inadequate. like i’m not deserving of you. long story short, you make me feel like shit. i’m tired of it sho’.”

“y/n, regardless of how you feel, i told you how i feel, and that ain’t gonna change.”

you couldn’t accept what he was telling you, believing that what you were saying weren’t getting through to his thick skull. his stance was too relaxed for your liking, arms simply crossed over the other, looking slightly bored.

“you’re not getting it shouei!” you raised your voice slightly, not quite shouting, but about two thirds of the way there. “you’re not understan-”

“oi, i didn’t get into a relationship with you just so you can make my life harder. fix up or leave.”

you halted, making sure you heard him correctly. to hear that he basically wouldn’t fight for 7 months worth of memories and time with each other left you in denial that it would be so easy for him to let go.

“excuse me?”

“did i stutter? fix up, or leave. two choices, one answer. it’s up to you but whatever you pick is your business.”

he gave you an out, an out from what you were currently going through. and as much as you did love and care for barou, you’d be a fool not to take it. things would only get worse.

you chose the latter, opting to leave, considering how little value your relationship held to barou. weeks passed, and the items you once held in the apartment decreased, leaving a half completed house, just like your heart.

he continued as normal at first, trying to get used to the newfound ‘freedom’. but as days passed on, the emptiness of the household became more apparent. the meals you used to cook were no more, barou having to take on the tasks himself. his injuries were taken care of in a subpar manner. while he could do it adequately, they weren’t bandaged or plastered as well as you used to do it. yes he would clean, but having it done already when he came back from training and to his standard…made him start to realise just how much you really did for him.

and maybe— maybe you weren’t so bad to have around. you did give him a sense of comfort that he could not achieve on his own, filling him on things that happened during your day gave him a sense of normalcy which alternately gave him that balance from his meticulous life as a quickly rising footballer.

he missed you, he missed what you had,

it’s a pity he realised only when it was too late.

☆彡 ITOSHI RIN

“honestly i don’t understand why i got with you in the first place. you’re so lukewarm it hurts.”

you were both busy. you both knew and understood that. rin was constantly abroad on travels for football and you had your own stuff going on at work, often leaving the office late at night.

when your schedules would occasionally match up and you’d both be home, most of the time it would still be you alone. rin would go off on his own to his usual training ground and work himself to the bone. he wouldn’t even tell you he was leaving, disregarding your worries or concerns that may surface.

you jolted awake randomly, looking to your left to see disturbed duvet covers, but an empty side. yet again. next you turned to your phone, squinting at the light from the screen which temporarily blinded you.

2:34am

you could take a guess or two at where rin was. specifically because you knew he lost his last match abroad and was pissed off about it, meaning double the training he usually did. you threw on some clothes, splashed water on your face and grabbed your car keys to drive to the open football field.

the massive stadium style lights lit up the field, illuminating it in a cool white, as you pulled up next to rin’s car. even from the car park you could hear the discernible sounds of rin’s foot booting a ball repeatedly. once closer, you could see him in his normal training gear, sweating profusely, enough to fill a small bucket.

“rin!”

he stopped, just short of making the next ball his victim, making eye contact with you, not expecting to see you there of all places this late.

he waited until you had crossed the distance between you, and stood in front of him to speak.

“y/n, why are you out here this early? i thought you were sleeping.”

“rin, i should be asking you that. it’s too early to be this active my love. come home please, i’m worried for you.”

all was silent for a moment, the only audible sounds on the pitch being a crow cawing in the distance, and rin’s heavy breathing.

“…i’m fine. just go back home. it’s too early for you to be up.”

you stood, hand on hip, showing your determination to get him to give up, not taking no for an answer.

“rin, you need to sleep. you’re overworking yourself. what happens when you’re fatigued and you leave yourself open for mistakes to happen? it’ll be worse for you in the long run.”

“tch, i wouldn’t expect someone who does office work all day to know the inner workings of an athlete. you don’t understand y/n.”

you sighed exasperatingly at his attempts to disarm you. he could be so stubborn when it was really for his own good.

“rin, i don’t need to be an athlete to understand that this isn’t good for you. anyone with two working brain cells can understand that constant working out and lack of sleep isn’t healthy.”

he rolled his eyes and turned back to the football in front of him.

“fine. whether or not you leave isn’t my problem, but i’m not leaving. stay or go, the outcome is the same either way.”

he took position, aiming and shooting flawlessly at the top left corner of the goal, the ball spinning against the net before falling to the ground.

he grabbed another ball, ready to complete the same procedure before you interrupted him once more.

“rin, just please come home, you can come back tomorrow. just because you lost your match doesn’t mean you should overwork yourself like this.”

this time when he turned back towards you, the tone had shifted. his face immediately darkened, eyes thinning into dark slits, eyebrows forming a crease on his forehead. his teal eyes shot daggers into yours.

“listen. we may be together, but that doesn’t mean you get to talk to me like you know what i’m going through. i’m going to be the best football player out there, and if i need to work double to make that happen, then so. be. it. i don’t need someone like you telling me about what i should or should not be doing.”

you stood in silence, effectively stunned and insulted simultaneously. you couldn’t say anything to counter yourself, rin’s harsh words opening up a side to him you’ve never seen before. that wasn’t the worst of it though.

“honestly i don’t understand why i got with you in the first place. you’re so lukewarm it hurts.”

your heart shattered, face hung in desolation and disheartenment.

after not hearing you argue back for a while he scoffed, walking to the side to collect his training bag. “whatever, i’m leaving now.”

he left you there, standing while the gears turned in your head to make some semblance of his words.

you didn’t even register you were crying until the cold nipped at your cheeks, decreasing the temperature of the liquid against your face. you pulled yourself together, just about enough to shakily make your way back to your car and press the ignition button.

you spent the whole car ride crying your eyes out, before wiping your eyes as you arrived back home. rin’s car was nowhere to be seen.

you walked up to the front door, slotting your key in and twisting your wrist to align with the lock.

pushing the door open, you stepped in to see the lights off and the aura dark.

“rin?”

silence.

“rin, are you there?”

nothing.

you sighed, tossing your keys on the table next to the door, making a beeline to your shared bedroom. it was empty, no signs of life present.

you stripped out of your outside clothes and slipped under the covers,

leaving you to cry yourself to sleep, wondering when it all went wrong.

baby you sold me a dream pt.2

#anime #blue lock #blue lock isagi #isagi x you #isagi x reader #isagi yoichi #bllk isagi #isagi yoichi x reader #isagi yoichi x you #mikage reo #blue lock reo #reo mikage #reo x reader #bllk reo #reo x you #nagi seishiro #nagi x reader #bllk nagi #bllk nagi seishiro #nagi seishiro x you #nagi seishiro x reader #barou shouei #barou shoei x reader #bllk x y/n #rin itoshi #itoshi rin x y/n #itoshi rin x reader #bllk rin #bllk #nicxl333

[thewritetofreespeech]

No One's Gonna Harm You, Darling

Ascended!Astarion x Reader

summary: when Astarion turned you into his spawn, he told you that you needn't fear anything. But what about him? Ao3

The night was getting long and you still hadn’t seen Astarion. You were starting to get anxious about it.

Usually, when you woke up in the morning (night) Astarion was right there beside you. Greeting the day with you with that cheeky smile before you both set off on your chores for the day. Today he was nowhere to be found.

You had shrugged it off, though a little disgruntled at not getting your kiss and sweet ‘good morning my treasure’ first thing like normal, as you were not so conceded that you thought all of Astarion’s world revolved around you.

But after breakfast, and several hours of him not making at least an appearance, you were starting to get concerned.

His world may not revolve around you, but Astarion would never leave or disappear without telling you. On the off times during your courtship that he did have things to do, as building and running an underground empire of darkness could be time consuming, he always told you where he was going or left you a note as to not have you worried. You always told him he didn’t have to, but without those assurances this time you were starting to worry.

“Where is Astarion?” You ask one of the servants you had cornered in the hallway. They too had been suspiciously absent today.

The girl looked fretted. Seeming to debate on if she could run, or use some kind of manner of magic to disappear, but would never disrespect their Master’s consort like that. “He…He is busy, most esteemed one.”

“I figured that, but I asked where he was.” There was a furrow in the girl’s brow. A twitch of her lip. So you tell her proactively, “don’t lie to me,” and she flinched as if her hand had been smack for even thinking of the lie.

“He is in the kennels, beloved consort.”

You arch your brow quite high. The kennels?

Despite having all his new insurmountable power and complete run of the palace now, Astarion still avoided the kennels like the plague. Too many bad memories, you assume. Despite his complete renovation of an old prison into his new home, the walls still held secrets and memories unable to be masked over by a fresh coat of paint.

You leave the servant and head for the kennels. Unlike before there are no barriers to you in the palace. The two of you have no secrets.

The stench of blood and the horrors inflicted here still hang in the air. As if etched into the stone. But more than that there is a new scent of blood. Fresh and haunting. The back of your mouth watered at the smell, but you tamper it down as you follow its trail to the back of the kennels. Sounds of grunting, chains, and wet echoing off the stone to your ears until you are just behind Astarion. A knife in his hand. Stabbing repetitively over and over into some blood mass in front of him that sprayed his alabaster skin, as if you were back in the old days.

The stabbing stopped, and Astarion turned to look at you. His face goes a light when he saw you. Smiling with a jovial, “darling!” As if his face wasn’t freckled with blood. “Has it already gotten so late? I’m sorry my pet. I was just tying up some loose ends and got lost in my work.” He turned to show you what he was working on. And you felt your blood run even colder than it was. “Correcting a wrong.”

Though it’s impossible to tell anymore with how mangled his face was now, you could tell that this was the noble man from the party a few weeks ago. The one who insulted you. The one who felt the need to tell the other guests that someone of clearly such meager station & upbringing should not be the companion of someone they’ve now claimed as their own. The one who left with a gracious departure from their host and a curt regard to you as he left, thinking he was safe. Thinking that nobility and riches would keep him safe like any lord. Think the high walls of his own palace would keep anyone out as he likely slept peacefully in his bed.

He hadn’t met anyone like Astarion before.

“Now, I think we’ve established that your crimes are severe and unyielding, my lord.” The mocking sneer his almost like a serpent’s hiss as he coils around the whimpering man. “I know you’ve said many sorry up until now. Pleaded for forgiveness. Begged to your Gods.” His hand gripped the back of the man’s head by his balding hair. Turning it upward so he look at you with gapping sockets. “But it’s not me you need to apologize to. It’s my consort.” The man whimpered and sniveled as Asation leaned in by his ear and whispered, “apologize.”

He choked on the words and blood as he tried desperately to get the words out to you. See, he didn’t have a tongue anymore. You don’t know where it’s gone, but it wasn’t in his mouth. You were too terrified to ask. Astarion, however, seems to take his gargled words as the apology he was looking for and granted him the mercy that he sought by slicing his throat. What’s left of his blood spilled out over his bloated stomach as his body slumped in his manacles.

“There.” Astarion’s voice brought you back to yourself. The shock of the scene in front of you leaving you paralyzed until his words cut through your mind like the knife in his hand. “That’s that.”

He circled around from behind the corpse and came up to you. You fervently ask Astarion why he did this. Demand to know what possessed him to torture & kill a more or less innocent man. “Why?” He replied back curiously. A look of befuddlement on his handsome, blood-stained face. “He insulted you. Said those awful things in front of our guests. In our home. Did you really think I would let someone like that go to spread more of his disgusting words and bad breath about the city? About my consort.”

He took a step closer to you and you felt a subconscious pull to take a step back. It seemed you were still paralyzed in a way, however, as your legs couldn’t move. Astarion cupped his free hand to your cheek. Giving you a soft look despite the murder all around him. “No one is going to harm you, darling. Not while I’m around. Not even your feelings.”

He leaned in to kiss your forehead. So sweet and gentle that you almost forget about the blood and the murder and the smell of death in the air. He then let you go and walked past you. Some comment about needing a bath to get all this blood off, as it was too vile for consumption, and an offer for you to join him came past your ears. But you barely hear it. With Astarion gone the shock was setting back in again. Alone with what he had done on your behalf, you feel just as guilty as if you had wielded the knife.

Astarion said that no one was going to harm you while he was around. But who was going to protect you from him?

#;ask and ye shall receive (request answers) #ascended astarion #astarion #bg3 astarion #bg3 ascended astarion #baldur's gate #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 scenarios #bg3 imagine #bg3 fanfiction #baldur's gate scenarios #baldur's gate imagine #scenarios #imagine #tav #bg3 tav #spawn tav #tw: gore

[notinthislife50]

Chapter 46

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter

You settled back into your routine, sitting in the backseat, amused by the banter between the boys as they teased each other. Rolling your eyes, you couldn't help but smile at the entertainment they provided.

One morning, you all sat in baby, watching the payphone.

"Why did he have to phone so early?" you grumbled.

Dean answered the phone, grumbling about catching something from holding the old, dirty payphone.

"Could he be more dramatic?" You huffed, flinging yourself into the back seat.

Several hours later, the boys woke you, informing you that it was time to check into the motel and head to the coroner's office.

At the coroner's office, when the sheet covering the deceased was pulled back, Dean gasped. "Well, those aren't the good kind of hickeys."

Sam nudged him annoyed, and when he looked at you, he smirked, causing you to giggle behind your hand.

Sam cleared his throat, and both of you stopped.

"So, this was an octopus?" you asked, looking disgusted.

"Yeah, a giant one," confirmed the doctor.

"How giant are we talking?" Dean looked concerned.

"About 30 feet," the doctor replied with a smile.

Sam laughed in disbelief. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but aren't giant octopi rare around here?"

"I don't think these were caused by a giant octopus," the doctor explained, pointing out signs that someone had bled the man out and turning the dead man's neck for you all to see.

After leaving the widow's house, you all deliberated whether it could be a vampire. Deciding on a plan, Dean volunteered to speak with the nanny, while you and Sam would search the house when the wife was out.

A while later, Dean called, explaining that you needed to talk to the little girl. Sam, after hanging up, suggested you stay in the car, thinking two people might scare the girl.

"An 8-foot giant stranger won't scare her at all. Sit, I'll go," you ordered Sam.

Approaching the little girl, you knelt down, smiling warmly. "You've got talent. Do you remember me?"

"Yes, but I'm not allowed to talk to you. My mum will get mad," she said nervously, glancing around.

"Why? Is something wrong?" you asked gently.

"I got in trouble because I told the police it was the monster in the closet that killed my dad," she explained before her mum called her inside, and she hurried away.

Turning, you noticed a drawing on the ground that resembled a vampire, much to your dismay.

A while later you sat on the motel bed, utterly perplexed by Sam's unusual reaction during the phone call with Dean.

"What's wrong with you?" you inquired as he hung up.

"Get dressed. We need to go," was his curt reply.

As you arrived outside Plucky's, your expression twisted in disgust. "What in the world is this?"

"You don't have this back home?" Sam quizzed.

"No," you laughed.

"Aren't you lucky?" he scoffed.

Approaching the desk together, you couldn't help but smirk as Sam stumbled over his words, drawing the attention of the cashier.

"FBI. Can we speak to the manager, please?" You pushed in front of Sam, taking charge.

As the cashier walked away, you leaned closer to Sam. "Sammy, what's going on?"

"Nothing. I'm fine. If it bleeds, we can kill it," walking away, engrossed in a wall of drawings.

"Okay," you rolled your eyes, walking in the other direction to look for clues.

The manager approached Sam a few minutes later and Sam asked, "Why do you get kids to draw their worst fears?"

“Well, it helps them express their feelings, that they may not be comfortable talking about," she explained.

When Sam finished speaking to the manager, he looked around frantically for you. Spotting you, he saw you taking photos with a clown, gesturing for him to join.

As he made his way over, a janitor intercepted him. You watched, puzzled, as they conversed.

"Sam," you called as he approached, dragging a clown cheerfully behind you.

He pulled you away abruptly, marching you out the door. "Will you stop touching everything? We're meant to be investigating."

He let go of you, and suddenly it clicked. "Are you scared of clowns, Sam?" you asked, smiling.

"No," he defended.

"You are! Why didn't you say so? I could have gone in there myself," you teased.

"I'm not scared of clowns. Now come on," he snapped, heading off to the car.

"Okay, my mistake," you grinned, following after him.

@deansgirl79 @suckitands33 @deans-baby-momma @dragony937 @linzerrr @deans-spinster-witch @foxyjwls007 @djs8891 @my-obsession-spn @mikaylalala13 @jackles010378 @spnbaby-67

#supernatural fic #supernatural #supernatural fanfic #supernatural fanfic series #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural crowley x reader #supernatural imagine #supernatural reader insert #supernatural smut #supernatural x reader #supernatural/reader #dean winchester #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester smut #dean winchester supernatural #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you

[underfaller]

Chapter 12: λ (pt. 3)

Pairing: dottore x angel!reader Summary: You are a Heavenly Messenger from Celestia that’s been captured by a mysterious Doctor CW: None this chapter Word count: 2.0k A/N: The official halfway mark! Thank you for coming this far. Chapters may come out slower than usual. I am working on a virtual convention called Fatui Con. It's going to be a completely free, fan event on Discord dedicated to the Fatui Harbingers. If you want to join, you can do so here. Though not explicitedly NSFW, it's 18+ only.

“Be careful now, will you? You’re going to fall if you do not watch where you’re going.” 

You can hear that familiar, reprimanding edge in Dottore’s voice, but alas, you can’t help but throw caution to the wind-- the energy of the festival has taken over completely as you eagerly take in your surroundings, the burdens of days prior suddenly lifted away with the night. The waning winter air is still quite chilly -- you're glad for your cloak. Hundreds of delicate paper lanterns float through the air, lighting your path with a soft, golden glow. As one lazily floats down, you reach out and delicately lift it up, pushing it back on its path towards the stars. 

“Come now, Doctor! Must you always be so cranky? Our work is done, let’s enjoy ourselves for once!” 

A small smirk teasingly plays on your lips. You turn around, walking backwards, your hands resting behind your head. 

“I am not ‘cranky’. I am merely warning you of the inevitable,” Dottore replies, shortly. 

“Ah, you worry too much--Oof!” 

You utter a small noise of surprise as you accidentally bump into a Milleth member’s back. You stumble as the man confusedly turns around. Dottore catches your arm right before you fall to the ground, quickly pulling you up. You look at him, meeting his curt frown and smile sheepishly as you adjust your cloak. 

What awful timing. How embarrassing.    

“Thank you…” You nervously laugh. “You may have been correct that time-” 

“As per usual,” The Doctor states, a twinge of smugness lines his words. 

You shake your head, folding your arms. 

“I am simply trying to save face, Doctor.” 

“Even when I already saved yours just now.” 

“Tch.” You narrow your eyes, but when you notice that familiar, cocky grin slowly forming on his masked face, you find yourself unable to remain annoyed. 

When did that grin bring me such content?

Shouts and cheers can be heard from various, colorful booths where carnival games are being played. Children run through the dense crowds, laughing and chattering. A wonderful smell wafts from the many street food vendors that line Liyue Harbor. Dottore nods towards one particular stand that doesn’t seem as busy as the others. 

…When did he?

“Are you hungry?” 

You nod. 

“Then wait here.” 

He quickly leaves, striding to the booth. You watch his figure from a distance, your mind wandering to times bygone and of how you both first met. You used to despise this man. You hated him with every fiber in your being. You woke up every day just to curse him. 

And now?

Now, when I utter his name, I cannot bring forth such malice. 

How awful, yet painfully funny it is that you can’t imagine your life away from the Doctor, now. Since that fateful day in Dragonspine, you’ve let yourself fall completely for this man-- though, not as in falling in love, of course. After all, what did someone like you-- a being without a human heart--know of love? No, you let yourself fall into his palms utterly, those last threads of resistance finally snapping when you plunged into those icy waters to save him. It wasn’t romantic, rather, a resigned defeat that you ironically reveled in as you wholeheartedly accepted it. Your sarcasm and snippy remarks hold more amusement than actual anger and you find yourself laughing at his morbid jokes more than rolling your eyes. 

I must admit, it is less exhausting accepting this new life of mine. 

You know Dottore sees you as nothing but a puppet on a string, yet you find yourself willing to perform at his every command and even the slightest flick of his wrist. You know you are nothing more than a glorified pet than an equal. Those curses and screams lined with poison and hate seem like a blurry memory now-- much like your old life in Celestia. 

That’s alright. There are worse things to be in this mortal realm. 

Still, you did not entirely understand what drove your desire to please this man you know is utterly despicable. That certainly didn’t mean you didn’t try your hardest too. 

Perhaps you would find the answer on this reprehensible path you so willingly followed Dottore on in pursuit of knowledge and acceptance. 

At least the master I now serve does not deceive me like the gods , You think. How amusing it is that the individuals who wear masks show their ugly truths so clearly. 

It’s then that you suddenly see a flash of red pass by you.

…What? 

You whip around just in time to see a cloaked figure with long, red hair disappearing into the sea of people. Your heart jumps into your throat as your eyes widen. You scan the crowd, tiptoeing to get a better view. Still, you quickly lose the individual. 

“What are you looking at?” Dottore asks as he returns to you. 

You know it’s impossible. You know it’s not her. 

You know you will not see Rider again.  

You turn back towards the Doctor, shaking your head. 

Do you even want to see her? 

Do you want her to see you? To see who you are now?

“Nothing. I just… thought I saw someone.” 

…No. It’s better we never see each other again. 

“Hmph, it’s almost impossible to find anyone in this crowd. If I didn’t have a keen eye, I’d probably have lost sight of you as well,” Dottore mutters. “I quite dislike being around so many… banal individuals.”  

“Still, you seem to be enjoying yourself much more than when we were in Mondstadt,” You comment. 

“Do I now?” Dottore chuckles. “Perhaps. It is quite rare I have an evening without rigor or research.” “Here,” He hands you one of the skewers in his hands. “It’s grilled tiger fish, a specialty here.” 

You take the delicacy from him, tentatively trying it. The fish is so fresh, you can practically still taste the sea in its meat. The lightly charred green onion gives a satisfying crunch. 

“Is it to your liking?” 

“Yes… it’s delicious!” You exclaim between bites. 

He grins, eating his own skewer.

“Good.”

As you both continue participating in the festival, Dottore explains more about Lantern Rite and the country itself. You listen, but it’s a bit hard to focus on the meaning behind his words. Instead, your attention drifts towards his masked face, his didactic tone as he so eagerly yet naturally he teaches you, his emphatic gestures he always made with his hands as he spoke. 

He sure does like to talk, You think, amusedly. Though, I suppose that is alright, I enjoy listening. 

 Before you return back to the city, Dottore turns one last time towards the calm harbor waters. The docked boats gently rock back and forth on a black surface that sparkles like gold as it reflects the festivities happening on its shores. 

“The waters here are much more temperate; it reminds me a bit of my hometown,” Dottore muses. “It is probably due to the calmer climates compared to Snezhnaya’s harsh winter.”

You glance at him.  

“How interesting,” You remark. 

“What is, my dear?” 

“I always assumed that you were native to Snezhnaya.” 

Dottore grins.

“Don’t be silly, my dear,” He says. “Such a great mind couldn’t have possibly formed in such a barren, boring land.” 

“Then where exactly are you from?” 

The Doctor chuckles at your curiosity.

“Where, indeed. Perhaps I will tell you one day.” 

You reenter the city, climbing up the long, stone steps and up a spiral of red ones. You don’t know where Dottore is leading you, you just simply follow. However, when you find yourself at the top of one of Liyue City’s crimson roofed buildings, you let out a small sigh. 

“What troubles you, my little birdie?” 

“It’s quite unfair, Doctor. You know everything about me, but despite our time together, I barely know anything about you.” 

His smile falters a bit, but he quickly lets out a small laugh, waving away your disappointment. 

“It’s for the best, my dear.”  

“It’s still unfair.” 

“Life tends to be, darling.” 

You lean against the lacquer railing. It is much quieter here. Despite it being quite a nice view, you and the Doctor are the only ones here. The loud chatter is now a dull, background noise. You frown as you continue to view the activities below.

“Are you afraid to tell me?” 

“I'm not afraid of anything,” Dottore scoffs. He thinks for a moment. “Though as a scholar, I do ponder… all probable possibilities in such scenarios.”

“Such as?” 

Dottore lifts his mask off his face, his long bangs falling over his eyes. He inhales, breathing in the clear, night air. As the Doctor tilts his head towards you, you study his face. You’ve seen it a handful of times before now. Still, you always took it in so greedily. Dottore isn’t conventionally handsome but his peculiar, sharp features are what makes him oddly attractive. They’re fitting for someone like him. For the sake of his ego and your ears, you’d never tell him, though. 

If I told him that I found him good-looking, I’d never hear the end of it. 

Dottore crosses his arms as he leans against the railing as well, his backside presses against the hard, painted wood. 

“You are being very persistent, my dear. Why do you want to know so badly?” 

“I don't know. It's just…” You start your sentence but do not finish the thought, instead averting your eyes.  “Will you not tell me because you do not trust me?” 

What does it matter that he didn’t trust me? Why do I care so much? “Certainly not. You are my assistant, after all.” 

Relief. 

“I see.” 

A moment of silence.

“Do you think it is important?” Dottore asks.

You look at him. 

“What is?” 

“Trust.” 

“I suppose.” 

“Tsk.” 

You raise an eyebrow. 

“Well, do you?” 

He thinks for a moment. 

“It is pleasant to have someone to confide in and I suppose a level of trust is needed for that,” Dottore concludes. “But it is naive to believe you can trust someone with every bit of you. Betrayal is the inevitable outcome of all relationships with others. The only mind you can completely trust is your own.” 

“How pessimistic.” 

“Facts aren’t always nice. You, of all individuals, should know this.” 

“Still…” 

Your words fall out of your mouth before you’ve thought them. 

“I would not betray you.” 

Silence. 

You blush once more, looking away quickly. At first, you think the Doctor will reprimand you for such silliness, but instead he sighs, his eyes returning back to the sights below. 

“You have so much to learn, little birdie.” 

Teach me, then. 

You shift beside him, changing the conversation as you do so. 

“When we return, will we resume our research on Khemia?” 

“Logically so.” 

“What about the abyss samples?”

“What about them?” 

“Well, we need more after what happened. We can’t proceed without it.” 

“We’ll figure something out. We are scholars after all.” 

You nod silently. Perhaps… no.

For a moment, you feel inclined to tell him about what happened in the Abyss. How the Void Realm is already in your veins. However, unlike moments before, you do not let such a confession spill. Instead, your fist clenches the fabric of your cloak tightly as your lips remain sealed. You wear your heart on your sleeve, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t keep a secret or two. 

Unlike you who knows no fear, I am a coward who is afraid to even speak. 

Maybe, deep down, you also believe that it is naive to trust someone with every bit of you. 

A large stage below illuminates as it suddenly comes to life. A performance soon begins and though you cannot hear what they are saying, it interests you nonetheless. You are especially encapsulated when two actors appear on stage with large, paper mache wings, their flight obviously fabricated by the harnesses attached to their torsos and the ropes overhead. You feel your own wings twitch beneath the fabric that hides them. 

“Do you ever think about doing that?” Dottore asks. 

“What?” 

“Flying away.” 

You shake your wings a bit, looking at the starry night sky before smiling softly. 

“Sometimes,” You reply. “When I see a clear sky or am standing from a particularly tall place, I close my eyes and imagine spreading my wings. I’ve told you before. All birds yearn for the sky.” 

He does not answer. 

“But all birds need a nest to sleep for the night, which is why I return to your-” You pause. “Your place.” 

You almost said his side. 

“How utterly risible.” 

“You do not have to mock me, Doctor,” You glare at him. 

“Contrary, I mock myself.” 

Dottore continues to watch the performance below, following the dancing, colorfully dressed actors with flitting, unreadable eyes. 

“I do not believe in fate-- only tools do. Even still, we all have a role to play on this ridiculous stage we call our world,” He says.

Dottore laughs humorlessly. 

“And how ironic that despite my genius, mine is a fool.” 

You chuckle at his words. 

“We are all fools in our own way, Doctor.” 

“And yet…” He murmurs. 

“What?”

A sharp whistling fills your ears. You turn towards the dark blue sky to see the first firework explode with a loud bang. You watch as the fiery tendrils stretch down, dissipating into golden stardust that paints the night sky.

How beautiful. 

“Nothing...,” Dottore slowly grins as his voice trails off. You both watch the fireworks. Another goes off, then another. Your eyes sparkle with delight as you watch such wonders. 

They are like manmade stars, but more fleeting. 

Despite their shortcomings, humans can make such wonderful things.  

You are so invested in the sight before you that you don’t even notice Dottore leaning over you until you feel him press his lips against the top of your head as he lightly kisses you. Before you can even react, he’s already straightened up, leaning against the railing once more. 

Thump, thump. 

The sound of your own beating heart momentarily drowns out the fireworks. 

Dottore smirks at you. 

“Happy Lantern Rite, little birdie.” 

Happy Lantern Rite, Doctor.

Dearest Y/N,

Today is my last day in Liyue. How lovely that I got to spend it celebrating their largest festival of the year. Celestia has not given me a task in quite awhile, but it is alright. I and three other Messengers will be traveling together for some time.

Four is such an unlucky number. It'd be nice if we were five. 

I've come to accept that you will not respond. Still, I'll continue to keep you in my thoughts. I've met more like us but none are quite like you. You'll always be my friend. 

Happy Lantern Rite, Y/N. 

Rider

Past chapters here

#fic: dead doves do not mourn #dottore #dottore x fem!reader #genshin x reader #genshin fanfic #genshin impact

[rand0mfangurlstuff]

Sing Yourself to Sleep - Bucky x Y/N - Part Three - Last Night

Previous part here This part is entirely from Bucky's POV. Based somewhat on Last Night by Morgan Wallen.

Bucky woke up the next morning with a headache that would rival a gun shot wound. 'Morning sleeping Beauty.' it was Buck. Good ol' happy and non hungover Buck. Bucky barely managed a groan. 'You were very late getting back here last night, where you go after you walked Y/N home?' Oh fuck. It hit him like a brick. He would have preferred to be hit by a brick. Y/N. He kissed her. And she ran from him. And he ran after her.

'Y/N wait!' he ran to catch up to her. 'Please, leave me alone Major.' she refused to look at him. 'I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, I just got carried away.' 'I am married!' she turned to him. 'I know, and the Colonel's a nice guy-' 'You don't have to tell me how nice my husband is!' she snapped. Bucky almost recoiled from her harsh tone, then she softened. 'I'm sorry Major I-' 'Bucky' he corrected her. She sighed, it was almost like using his nickname was too intimate for her. 'Major Egan, you are a wonderful man, and I appreciate you spending time with me tonight. But I am a married woman.' She turned to walk away from him.

'Are you a happily married woman though?' he said almost defiantly. She spun on her heel, shock and anger on her face. 'I beg your pardon?!' 'I've seen you, walking around base alone, or sitting quietly in the corner. I remember that evening we spent sitting on the wing of the fort after we lossed Curt. You're always smiling, but it never reaches your eyes. But tonight, dancing and singing with me and the guys, you looked happy. You were having fun. And your husband had nothing to do with it.' She stood, shocked into silence. Bucky could see a million wheels turning in her head, finally, in a quiet almost shy tone she spoke. 'My husband makes me happy. He's a wonderful man.' 'Are you happy? Or just content? I think I made you really happy tonight.'

Bucky was broken from his thoughts by Buck's voice. 'Bucky? You still in there?' he laughed. 'Uh Buck, I did something bad.' Bucky sat with his headin his hands. 'Thats the whiskey for ya, you'll be fine after you eat something.' Buck patted him on the shoulder. 'It's not the whiskey, well it is, its, I kissed Y/N last night.' Gale Cleven jumped up from the edge of the bed like he had been electrocuted. 'John Egan are you kidding me?!' he shouted. Lowering his tone incase someone heard, he continued 'The Colonel's wife? The God damn Colonel's wife? Have you no sense of decorum? Decency? Or just plain common sense?!' Bucky's head sank further into his hands 'I couldn't help it, we were having a great time, and she's so pretty, and I thought maybe she wanted me to kiss her.' 'And did she? Did the Colonel's wife want you to kiss her?'

'There is more to a marriage than drunkinly dancing Major.' Y/N said, still struggling to look him in the eye. 'I know that, but that's not what I asked you.' She once again deflected his question; 'You have had a lot to drink Major-' 'Oh stop calline me Major! I'm Bucky. I'm the same Bucky who spun you around till you were dizzy and bet you I could fit a whole cupcake in my mouth. You had fun with me, more fun than I think you have had in a long time. Just admit it.' She peeked up at him through her lashes, 'I did have a lot of fun, and I have thanked you for that fun plenty. But that doesn't mean you have the right to kiss me.' 'And none of that means you didn't enjoy it when I did.'

She looked at him in shock. Bucky knew he had her. She couldn't deny the blush on her beautiful cheeks. Bucky took a deep breath, knowing he was crossing a million lines by stepping closer to her. 'You liked it, that's why you ran. If you didn't like it you would have hit me across the face. But you ran because you liked it. And now you're still standing here, letting me get close to you, because you want it to happen again.' She stared at him, lost for words, Bucky took it as an opportunity and kissed her again. This time, she kissed him back.

It was one of those passionate, slightly sloppy kisses. All lips and tongues battling for dominance. Bucky pinned her against the wall, enjoying the feeling of her in his hands. She broke the kiss 'This, this is wrong.' she said inbetween panting breaths. 'We cannot tell anyone about this.' 'That's alright by me doll.' He leaned down to resume their kiss. A few moments later, she broke the kiss, pushing him away. 'I'm sorry Bucky, but that can never happen again. From now on, we don't know eachother.' Bucky didn't like the sound of that, 'Y/N wait, -' 'Goodnight, Major.' her tone was stern, with no room for misinterpritation. She walked away from him and he did not follow.

'I really like her Buck.' Bucky confessed with a sad expression. 'Bucky, you have to snap out of it. She's right nobody can find out about this and you have to pretend you don't know her.' 'I don't think I can.' He said shaking his head. 'And I don't think I can just let that kiss be our last.'

#masters of the air #callum turner #mota #john bucky egan #masters of the air fan fiction #john egan #john egan x reader #masters of the air fanfic

[benedictscanvas]

HI👋 I'm so glad your requests are open! I squealed and was grinning like an idiot reading "Stuck Together" with Steve R. Wondering if I could ask, should interest spark, for a play on number 3 from the Meaningful Gestures list with one Stephen Strange and a GN!Reader? Instead of a hand on the cheek perhaps smoothing some stray strands of his hair out of his face and he has the "Huh? Oh. Ooohh!" moment lol. No worries if not! Thank you for taking the time and sharing your work👍

the fact that people still read stuck together has me a little emotional! that was one of my first ever fics 4 years ago and is so so special to me, it means everything that you liked it, thank you <3 || 1.2k words

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"I'm trying to concentrate, if you wouldn't mind," he said mindlessly, his thoughts still clearly on the task at hand. Usually, he'd be able to pick your footsteps out from all the rest and you'd at least be greeted with a curt nod or an amicable hum.

"You must really be busy," you said, knowing your voice would be enough to snap him out of his musings. He regarded you with slight apology in his eyes for a moment, but quickly went back to his work, "Unless you woke up today determined to bite the hand that feeds you?"

His only answer was a disapproving grunt, but upon a few strained flicks of his fingers over his current project, he finally looked at you properly, shaking his head a little to get the hair out of his eyes.

"I thought you were Tony," he said, as if he had actually voiced an apology. It was as close as it got with him: for him to almost admit he was wrong about something was an apology in itself in his language, "And I told you that you don't have to bring me food. I'm quite capable at taking care of myself."

"Lying isn't a good colour on you, Doc," you said sensibly, placing the warm bowl of pasta next to him on the table and sticking a fork in the top, "I made extra anyway."

Hypocrite. You hoped your own lie was less transparent than his. When he dropped into this work mode, it was impossible not to want to care for him here and there, knowing the work he did was so important that things like eating and sleeping sometimes took a backseat.

"Stephen, I told you, not Doc."

"Ah, you like it," you said, not sure that was true but saying it anyway. You thought you caught a tiny smirk at the side of his mouth, but it could have been a trick of the light.

"I don't," he said firmly. But his eyes strayed to the bowl of pasta and soon his hands did too, briefly abandoning his work in favour of food, "But I do like pasta, as you know. Thank you."

You wanted to thank him for the little things he did for you so regularly. When he wasn't lost to the depths of his work, he could be rather thoughtful. Always bringing a second umbrella for you when it was raining because he knew you'd forget your own. Washing your dishes when he did his without thinking. Just the other day, you had woken up with his cloak draped over you when you had fallen asleep during one of Tony's many, many briefings.

The cloak was unspeakably warm and it was the memory of it that had led you to cook him pasta that evening. You'd already eaten.

"You're welcome," you smiled, even though his focus was entirely on his food as he began eating. You turned to leave but his voice stopped you.

"You're not staying? Where's your food?"

Ah. Caught out in the lie you knew he would see through. You turned around to face him slowly, toeing your shoe into the carpet. It was better not to give him the satisfaction of looking flustered.

"You obviously know that I didn't make extra and I made it just for you. It's like 2am, Strange, I ate hours ago."

He produced a second fork that he definitely didn't have a moment ago, and held it out to you.

"It's Stephen," he corrected, as if on autopilot, and then- "You must be starting to get hungry again. Eat."

It would have been far more difficult to protest, claim sleepiness, head to bed without a glance backwards. He always had an answer for everything. You heaved a sigh, took the fork from his outstretched fingers and sat in the chair that you were also sure he had just conjured for you.

"If you insist."

You ate in silence. You spent the majority of your time together in silence truthfully, but it was where the two of you were most comfortable. You squirmed under his scrutiny when the two of you conversed, the glint in his eye too often unbearable, but when you had a task to focus on side by side, his company was always relaxing. Warm and safe.

He kept shaking his head to get his damn hair out of his eyes though, and the movement out of the corner of your eye was getting infuriating.

"Just-" you huffed, putting your fork down in the bowl with a light clang, "Hold still, would you?"

You reached up, both hands, and smoothed the offending curled strands out of his face, finding them just long enough to tuck behind his ear securely. Pulling a bobby pin from the belt loop of your jeans, you secured the hair in place with careful fingers. You sat back to admire your work, one hand still holding his chin in place with thumb and forefinger, turning it this way and that.

"You're welcome," you murmured, finally letting go of him and picking up the fork once more, "Again."

You could feel his gaze on the side of your face. Intent. Granted, there wasn't often much physical contact between the two of you, but he had to know that he had been driving you to distraction with that shimmying to get it out of his way. Yes, sometimes the way he looked at you bordered on sinful, but you'd recently realised you'd likely imagined that as a reflection of your own slightly inappropriate thinking when you watched his hands at work.

"I'll give it back."

His voice was soft. A world away from the stern words you had been accidentally greeted with when you entered. You looked up at him quizzically but he just lightly tapped at the bobby pin with two fingers. You chuckled, surprised that you weren't feeling your face heat up.

"I have hundreds, your need is greater than mine. Keep it."

You took another forkful of pasta, and he was still just looking at you. You gestured to the bowl with your fork.

"It'll get cold."

"As hot food tends to," he muttered, forever a smart ass. You rolled your eyes, "You do a lot for me, you know, Y/N. And somehow, you're good company when I feel like I'm losing myself in something."

There was that look in his eye again. Unbearable. It felt almost impossible to meet his gaze for too long when he looked through you like that.

"Anyone would want to-"

"Actually, nobody else does. You keep me grounded, and I appreciate it," he said earnestly, and you managed to keep your eyes on him long enough to know how much he meant it. Still, he could feel you itching to brush it off, so he did it for you, breaking your gaze, "Take the compliment and eat your pasta."

You did just that. You took the compliment and allowed it to warm you inside and out, and ate more of the pasta you'd cooked for him. In fact, he hadn't seemed to eat much of it at all. It was a comfortable silence until the bowl was finished, and although you tried to take it with you when you left, he refused to let you wash up what you'd cooked for him.

You glanced back at him at the edge of the room as you were leaving, just quick enough to catch him touching the bobby pin again. There was an expression on his face that looked like reverence.

"Goodnight, Stephen."

You were granted one of his rare, genuine smiles. Maybe you weren't imagining it after all.

#stephen strange x reader #doctor strange x reader #stephen strange #doctor strange #marvel x reader #doctor strange fanfiction #doctor strange imagine #stephen strange fanfiction #stephen strange imagine #marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel imagine

[chemspxdr]

Fast Car - Track 1 - Dani California

Suguru Geto x reader

Saw one (singular, 1 , uno) geto edit and wrote 2k in a cold sweat. I basically wrote an entire series of "I can fix him" and tbh I'm correct. I delayed the breakdown of '06 so that everyone is 21-22.

---

He wakes to the morning light peeking through his blinds and shining relentlessly on his closed eyelids. Although, to say he “woke up” would be a lie, and if there’s anything in his tumultuous psyche that still remains the same, it's that Suguru is not fond of lying.

So, to correct himself, he did not wake up. That implies that he slept a wink in the past 72 hours, which would be a lie.

And Suguru Geto is not a liar.

He does not lie when he provides his perspective, warranted or not. If someone (Satoru) needs a stern reprimand, he will give it, no matter how one would receive his words. That’s not to say he doesn't soften the blow of his words when necessary, but even with layers of sugarcoating, his words will always remain, at their core, truthful. 

So, when his friends and colleagues approach him with worried remarks, he does not lie when he responds with a curt “fine”. 

Because Suguru Geto is not a liar.

He doesn’t lie when he looks in the mirror and breathes out, “God, you look like shit.”

It’s the truth: his eyes are sunken, his cheeks are hollowing, and in the regrettable event he sees his naked reflection, he can see that his ribs and spine are jutting through his flesh, albeit slightly.

He’s fine, though. Honest.

Although his days have reached an almost unbearable amount of monotony, he takes it all in stride. Today is no different, he looks away from his reflection with only the briefest of grave sighs, and gets ready to get to work.

To exorcize another curse, then lay in bed to stare at the ceiling for however long it is before his next mission. He’s got his daily schedule down to a science, going through the motions with clinical ease. So when he makes his way to leave, he walks past the unfamiliar black car without a sideways glance.

HOOOOOOOONNNNK

“Fucking fuck.”

To be truthful, he did jump. Slightly.

A person —a girl — he clarifies once he shades his eyes from the morning sun, is hanging halfway out the driver's side window, waving a hand frantically in the air.

“Yo! You Geto?”

Part of him considers walking away, to ignore this unwelcome irregularity, but Suguru Geto is at the very least, generally polite.

“Yes, can I help you?” He strides closer to the vehicle so as to not raise his voice.

She nods, sliding her sunglasses up onto the crown of her head, followed by the presentation of her hand for a shake (foreign?), and grants him her first and last name. (Foreign.)

“I’m your driver.”

“I don’t need one, thanks,” he brushes her off without shaking her hand (remember, he said generally polite), choosing to walk away.

She slowly rolls her car beside his path on the sidewalk, “Yaga said you’d do this. Do you have any idea where you’re going?”

His step falters. Huh. He usually gets a file with the information he needs delivered to his doorstep. He didn’t get one.

He sighs through his nose, casting her a sideways glance. She’s grinning. 

“Hop in, pretty boy,” she punctuates the (unwelcome) nickname with the click of the locks granting him entry, “We’ve got work to do.”

The drive is fairly quiet, but not unpleasantly so. The radio plays unfamiliar music (American?) at a middling hum, broken up by the intermittent shakes and sips she takes from a shockingly large iced coffee. (American.)

He resigns himself to looking out the window, his reverie interrupted by a “Shit” and her turning around to fumble with something in the backseat while idling at a red light. 

“Here,” she tosses a manilla folder into his lap, before accelerating at the light’s que without looking away from the road, “that’s all the info you need. If you have any questions, do hesitate to ask me. I don’t know what any of that shit means.”

He gives the file a once over: a fairly strong first grade is causing employees at a nearby steel plant to quit willingly (by frantic calls granting zero notice) or otherwise (dying). The thing is being a pain in the ass for the company and sorcerers alike, injuring an experienced first grade sorcerer last week. Thus putting Suguru on the case despite his overqualification.

Overall, the file was succinct and simple, all of it at the very least decipherable to even the most inexperienced of sorcerers. He turns to give her a curious once over.

“Yaga hired you?”

“Sort of. I didn’t really get ‘hired’ more so changed positions. I’m your friendly neighborhood window, and getaway driver. Shit pays way better than forensics, I’ll tell you that much.”

So she’s not a sorcerer, just some nobody who can see curses. It must be a pathetic existence, he thinks, to be able to witness such horrors and have no power of your own to stop it. He makes some noncommittal noise of acknowledgement, and returns to looking out the window for the remainder of the drive.

Once they pull into the parking lot, she throws the car in park and turns to him. 

“I arranged the evac to account for the surrounding two blocks. I said it was some chemical leak,” she holds out her empty palm.

“Phone,” she demands, and he reluctantly hands it over.

She types ridiculously fast and hands it back to him, her contact information on the screen, “I’m gonna park somewhere outside the evac zone. Let me know when you’re done.” 

He nods considering the name on his screen while exiting the vehicle; she’s prickly, irritating, and American, but at the very least efficient. He lets her drive off, giving her a few minutes to get out of the area, and gets to work.

He finished up with minimal fuss expected of a first grade, although it did leave a metallic taste in his mouth on top of the general flavor. How cute. 

He sends off a succinct “done”, and she’s pulling around the corner in an efficient three minutes.

She has the window rolled down upon arrival, letting out a low whistle with her sunglasses tilted down her nose. 

“Nice timing. Half an hour faster than the last guy, and he failed anyway,” she leans over the passenger seat to pop the door open and he opens it fully to enter, “and was a jackass all the way to the hospital. So you beat him twofold.”

“Haven’t driven me back yet. Don’t be so optimistic.”

She smiles, “Ah, can’t a girl dream?”

The following missions had the same song and dance, she’d pick him up, hand him a file of information, drive there, and drive back. All of which was done fairly well, save for her occasional, unwanted quips of sarcasm. Her driving was erratic; distinctly American, much like her music and humor. He could hear the bass vibrating the car upon his approach every morning, but by the time he buckled his seatbelt, it was turned down to a hum. She always had the same appearance, a t-shirt and sweatpants being her daily attire, some sort of caffeinated beverage in hand, and a pair of obnoxiously large sunglasses taking up half of her face when weather permits. 

Today was no different, the sky was a cloudless blue, and the sun reflected off of her shades. He responds to her nod of acknowledgement with a lazy wave, and enters the vehicle.

The file rests on the dashboard, per usual, and her music has been turned down so as to not assault his ears, per usual. 

What is not usual is the second drink in the cup holder, some sort of iced concoction with a unique shade of green. 

“Morning. A girl at the shop is learning new recipes, so I got this for free,” she hands him the beverage, “it’s some sort of matcha thing.”

“You don’t want it?”

“Nah, it’s not sweet enough for me.”

He eyes the cup with suspicion, to which she rolls her eyes and shakes it gently to rattle the ice.

“It’s not poisoned, I doubt you sorcerers are susceptible to that anyway,” she rattles the drink again at his hesitation, “if you don’t have it, I’ll drink it, and the last thing we need is more caffeine in my system. Think of it like a gift from me to my favorite sorcerer.”

She winks with the final statement and he takes the cup with a scoff, “I bet you say that to all of your passengers.”

“Only the pretty ones,” she grins with another wink and he responds with another scoff on instinct.

The drink is…not terrible. He was expecting some sort of sugary hellfire that overtook his senses, something Satoru would slurp up in seconds. Instead it’s earthy with minimal sweetness, he takes another, appreciative sip after his initial hesitant one.

“You like it?”

He hums in response, taking another sip, “it’s pretty good. Not too sweet.”

“I can’t believe there’s such a thing as ‘too sweet’ for some people. Heathens.”

He chooses to not respond, something she’s noticeably become more comfortable with over time, letting the silence become less awkward and more relaxed. He takes the occasional sip of his drink throughout the drive, finishing by the time they reach their destination.

He exorcized the curse within an hour, slightly longer than expected — the thing could teleport short distances and was a hassle to chase down. 

Nevertheless he finished his task and waited for her to pick him up, brushing his hair out of his face with a huff. He must have lost his hair tie during the fight.

She’s there minutes after he shoots a text, doors preemptively unlocked for his convenience. 

“That’s your personal record for longest exorcism, 54 minutes. Thought you should know.”

“Thanks for the feedback,” he responds while buckling his seatbelt. He shoves his hair behind his ears as it falls into his line of sight.

“Huh, never noticed how long your hair is. Need a hair tie?”

She doesn’t wait for him to answer, producing one in her hand as if out of thin air. He takes a moment to stare at her open palm, considering rejecting it, until another wisp of hair falls in front of his eye. At that, he takes it and ties a bun at the nape of his neck. 

She begins to drive after that, turning up the music slightly. He makes a conscious effort not to watch her, instead turning to look out the window.

“It’s pretty, you should leave it down more,”

He’s slightly startled at that, her voice taking him out of his daze, “What?”

“Your hair,” she states matter-of-factly, pointing to her own, “it’s nice. You should leave it down sometimes.”

“I can’t, it gets in the way.”

“Oh, right. Well like, when you’re not working.”

“I don’t see the point. Why would I care if it looks nice?”

“Well, I mean, if you’re going out, like on a date or something,” her cheeks color slightly, no doubt  because of the warm summer air, “it’s not like, a demand. Just a compliment.”

“Oh.”

Going out, dates, he almost laughs at the idea. It shows the folly of non sorcerers, they actually have time to consider things as pointless as that. But he supposes, as he rests his head on the window, that in her own way, she's being nice. A compliment is a compliment, even if the source is as unreliable as her.

“Thanks.”

“Oh you are so welcome, Suguru Geto,” her tone is loud and mocking now, back to normal in comparison to the almost timid state she was in before. He rolls his eyes, instinctively, and watches the scenery blur through the window. 

Suguru is not a liar, so he will not lie to himself at this very moment: the driver is growing on him.

He cringes at the idea, becoming soft for someone as weak as her. In the grand scheme of things, she is essentially worthless; granted the ability to see into the world of sorcerers but never touch it, reduced to an unwelcome vouyer of a world in which she will never belong. It’s pathetic, really, that these individuals are even allowed to interact with sorcerers, and it seems almost a piteous mercy to allow them even a position as simple as a window.

All of this is the truth.

But what is also the truth, is that he doesn’t hate her as much as he thought he would.

She’s witty (irritatingly so), considerate, and surprisingly competent. She knows her job and gets it done consistently, and if he could take a guess, she’s good at what she does. She’s already competent at a basic level; forensics isn’t a cakewalk, especially in a department as overwhelmed as Tokyo’s, and he can almost commend her scientific, structured approach to her position. The information compiled in the files is her own — her signature scribbled alongside a printed moniker on the title page proves that — and provides all the information he needs for a mission, no more, no less.

She’s clearly new to the concept of curses and the like, but she also has clearly done her homework, and some part of him respects her for that.

That’s the best way to describe it —respect. He doesn’t carry any overwhelming feelings of disdain, nor any of affection.

That’s what he feels for her — when she offered him that hair tie, when she brought him a caffeinated drink during a particularly early mission (and continued to do so after the fact, selecting flavors that he would like, not her), when she grins at him after every successful exorcism with some shade of pride, when she winks at him after another failed attempt at flirtation — respect, tinted with some general feeling of irritation. That’s it. 

Honest. 

So, when she drops him off at home, yelling “until next time, dearest” through the open driver's window, the small, private smile he shares with himself is one of respect and nothing more.

Honest.

#getou suguru x reader #geto x reader #i can fix him is my favorite genre of fiction hope yall enjoy

[boldlygayingwherenogayshavegayed]

That day, Abel woke at 7am. Usually, he disliked rising so early, but if his maths was correct, his grandfather was to come home that day or the next, and he didn't want to be caught off guard. He had to clean and reorganise the tower in a way that could have no faults discernable, and he still wished to have time for himself for art and reading, at the very least. He doubted he'd have time to do much more if he wanted everything to be perfect. Cleaning up took the better half of his morning. It was long, and annoying. Clothes were neatly folded and disappeared, paint stains were scrubbed and one by one, his room and the rest of the tower were slowly turned into the perfect version that he was expected to maintain.

Once that was done, he finally took time to dress, picking clothes of a plain, formal cut. Finally, he started on the long, annoying task of dealing with his hair. It took a stupid amount of time to get the long brown curls to behave, though he was used to it. Of course, it grew over the years to a point where managing it has gone from a slight annoyance to a hindrance, but obviously couldn't cut it. Not when it would destroy its value and his. Abel was sitting at his desk, sketching into the pages of his book, when the call came.

It suddenly tore him away from the fictional world and his depiction of the hero, a handsome and confident young man, strong and adventurous ; back to the sheltered reality of his tower. With a sigh, he closed the book and walked to the window.

At the foot of the tower, his grandfather stood, looking up at him in a way Abel could only picture as severe - he rarely looked at him any other way - even though he was too far away to distinguish.

"Abel. Let down your hair, now."

The young man sighed, rolling his eyes. He had long stopped expecting kindness from the man. Without a protest, he shifted to let his hair fall down the tower, until it was low enough for the old man to grab hold of it.

Even with magic, and even though he was practised enough to position himself in a way that made it hurt as little as possible, pulling his grandfather up was far from comfortable. Abel did so anyways. When finally, the man stepped inside, he threw a critical glance at his grandson, and at the room around them, before finally giving a curt smile.

"Thank you, dear. I know how exhausting this is for you." Then perhaps you should find another entrance, Abel thought, though he shook his head politely.

"It isn't, I promise," he replied instead. This earned him an eyebrow raise.

"I'm sure. Though no one could blame you, given how small you are for a boy your age."

Abel winced. He tried to stay grateful for the protection the tower offered, but it was difficult to, when his grandfather acted... well, frankly, like a twat. The man was generally polite, but he often sounded passive aggressive and Abel doubted it was unintentional. Though obviously, it was understandable, given all the trouble he had to go through to keep them safe. And thus, Abel tried to stay patient.

"Welcome home, grandfather," he said, forcing a smile.

The old man nodded, put his cloak away, and sat at the table. Abel took a deep breath, nervous. He knew what he wanted to ask, but it was difficult to get the words out, when he knew how likely it was to be told no. Still, he had hope.

"Listen, in four days-"

"Abel, could you please fetch us a meal?"

"...Right. Of course."

He was frustrated by the interruption, but maybe when they would both be seated on a table, and with a nice meal in front of him, his grandfather would be more receptive. As efficiently and quickly as he could, he managed to prepare something for the both of them, and put the plates on the table before sitting himself in turn. His grandfather didn't wait for him to start eating, not that he was very hungry, too preoccupied by the worry of how to make his request.

"So, about friday-"

"I have already told you how I feel about talking while eating, Abel," his grandfather scolded, none too gently.

"I apologise."

As soon as they were finished with their meal, he again tried to speak, but George interrupted before he could get a word out, to get him to sing. He clenched his teeth and held back a comment, but complied anyways, trying to get on his grandfather's good side. He ran a hand through Abel's hair, a perfunctory and cold gesture, as his grandson sang. From the brown waves, a soft glow started, strange and magical, and when Abel was finished singing, the grey of his grandfather's hair was slightly darker, and he stood with more ease, as age faded from his muscles.

"Thank you."

"SO! ...Next friday is my birthday?" He got a blank stare in return. "People usually get gifts on their birthdays."

"Birthday gifts are for children, Abel. But then, I suppose you're still rather young."

"I'm turning twenty." He quickly realised his tone wouldn't be appreciated, and added: "Please, I just want to go see the floating lights."

"...You wish to go out of the tower in order to see the stars?" George deadpanned.

"Not the stars, I'm not stupid enough to not know the difference."

"Watch your tone, young man." Abel paused.

"Sorry... I'm sorry, it's just... these appear, every year, on my birthday. I just want to understand, to know where they come from! I have to know what they are," he pleaded.

"You want to go outside, to watch something you could easily observe from your window?"

Abel nodded quietly.

"We had this discussion before, Abel. This tower, is here for your safety. The outside world is dangerous, especially for us. I have enemies, and you're an easy and vulnerable target, especially since your parents died."

"But-"

"I know you wish to leave and start your own life. Any young man would. But not yet."

"I'm-"

"Feeble, clumsy, and underdressed. Untrained in any combat, and-"

"Who's fault is that?!" he finally exploded.

Silence fell, followed by icy blue eyes glaring at him in a mix of shock and anger. Abel immediately regretted his outburst.

"What. Did. You. Say?"

"I only meant... that is, you're the one who raised me, and..."

"Are you implying that I somehow failed you, when I always did everything to protect you and keep you safe?!"

"I..."

"You're naive if you think someone like you could survive out there, even if you ever were to learn how to defend yourself."

I did, he almost said, but he knew that would only make things worse. His dagger was little more than a sharpened letter opener, and he was aware that what he could learn reading books and training by himself would hardly be sufficient in any real combat. If anything, his grandfather was right on that, at least.

"I'm sorry. You're right."

"Of course I am. I'm just asking that you don't raise this topic again, dear."

Abel nodded. It's not like this discussion was in any way more productive now than it had been the other times he had dared to ask to see the rest of the world.

"Yes, grandfather."

"Good. Now, I have matters to attend to. I shall be back tomorrow."

Abel watched him leave, trying to ignore the bitter taste it left in his mouth.

#tangled au hybel #tangled au #chapter 1 #fic #hybel #hyde macreid #abel austen

[mochegato]

Even the Losers

Chapter 8

Chapter 1     Chapter 7

“Your father is Bruce Wayne and now he wants to reconnect,” Nino recapped as though anyone involved in the call was unaware. From the look Chloe gave him, he was particularly happy she was in New York not Paris and couldn’t actually smack him upside the head.

“Thank you for that waste of time and breath,” Chloe grumbled.

“I just… don’t see the problem.”  Nino did actually move away from Alya before she could swat him.  “What?  Your dad is Bruce freaking Wayne!  Even if you don’t connect with him, you can totally draw on that Wayne money.”

He wasn’t fast enough to move away from her smack that time.  “Ow!” he pouted at Alya.

“It’s not about the money!” Alya groaned, already exasperated by him.  “It’s about him not wanting to have a relationship until the press found out.  It’s about him cutting her out but taking in a gaggle of other kids.”  Nino lightly shoved Alya’s shoulder and motioned toward Marinette’s expression on the screen.  Alya grimaced and gave him a nod of understanding.

Marinette looked down and pursed her lips to keep from frowning.  It was bad enough thinking it in her own head constantly, but hearing it out loud, repeated back to her?  That made it so much worse.  That made her feelings real.  That legitimized her feelings.  She couldn’t pretend like she was just overreacting.  They were justified.  Which meant she couldn’t just freeze them out.  Or rather she shouldn’t.  She had to face them.

She focused her energy on not changing her body language so she didn’t worry Adrien any more than he was already.  Keeping her body relaxed instead of tensing up.  Adrien had gone into a frenzied panic when he and Max had returned from their apartment search to find her collapsed on the floor, blocking the door. She’d missed the worst of it according to what Tikki said, but she still remembered the terrified look in his eyes when she woke up.  He hadn’t left her side since, keeping constant physical contact.  

Max seemed to inherently understand the situation and was jumping up to get anything either of them might need so they didn’t have to abandon each other for even a few moments.  She was eternally grateful to him for it because she wasn’t sure who the physical proximity was having more of a calming effect on, her or Adrien, but regardless, they both needed it.  

Her attempt to not react didn’t seem to have been as effective as she thought it had been judging by the way Adrien hugged her closer to him.  Marinette lightly bonked her head into his chest and returned her attention to the laptop screen.  “It’s okay, Nino,” Marinette assured him weakly.

“No it isn’t,” Chloe said over her.  “Both of you need to stop talking.”  She flipped a page in her magazine and looked up at the screen.  “I mean, that’s true in general, but especially during this call.” Her eyes were sharp when she looked up but Marinette could see the concern she was trying to hide by focusing on her magazine.  She wasn’t sure what Adrien had told them about how he found her but she could tell it was enough to scare them too.

Marinette rolled her eyes at Chloe.  “Yes, it is.”

Chloe groaned.  “This is the way we work Dupain Cheng.  You and Adrien let people walk all over you, Nino keeps the peace, Alya starts trouble, and I tell people the truth and to back the fuck off when it’s warranted.”

“Which never starts trouble,” Alya snarked.

“I do not let people walk all over me!” Adrien objected, looking around for support. Marinette gave a curt nod of agreement, but Max was avoiding his eyes and Chloe was staring at him flatly.

“No, you don’t let people walk all over us,” she motioned toward the screen, trying to indicate the rest of them.  “But you let everyone walk all over you.”  Her eyes moved slightly and her eyes narrowed slightly.  “You both do.”

Marinette wrinkled her nose at the screen with a pout.  “I stood up to you,” she groused.

Chloe scoffed.  “And it only took you like ten years to do it.  So proud of you.”  She rolled her eyes so strongly, her entire head moved as she did it.

Marinette’s mouth dropped in offense.  “I’m better now.”

“Are you, though?  Really?” Chloe deadpanned.

Marinette pouted.  “Yes!”

“Statistically, she is accurate,” Max added.  “She does stand up for herself more now than when we were younger.”  Marinette pursed her lips at Max, unsure how to respond to his comment.  On one hand, it defended her.  On the other hand, she did not at all appreciate how he stressed the word ‘statistically’ and she was certain everyone else caught that as well.

Chloe opened her mouth to say something but was cut off by Nino. Marinette sighed in relief until she started processing his words.  “I get that it’s hard and it hurts, I guess I just thought you wouldn’t take it this hard. After Jagged with Luka and Juleka and your grandfather… you forgave all of them.  You helped Jagged with Luka and Juleka, making sure their relationship didn’t go bad.”  He motioned vaguely at nothing.  “You seemed to brush it off and take it as a challenge.  So why isn’t this?”

Alya dropped her head in her hands.  “Tact, Nino.  God.”

“No, he’s not wrong.”  Marinette frowned as she thought about his words.  “I went after Grand-père and convinced him to reconnect.  Papa never held it against him so I guess I didn’t either. Luka never held it against Jagged, just moved forward.  Maybe it’s just me.  Maybe…”

“No!” Adrien interrupted before she could follow that train of thought any further. He gently turned her toward him to focus her attention on him.  “There’s nothing wrong with you or how you’re reacting.  There’s no wrong way to react to news like this.  If you feel sad, that’s fine.  If you feel annoyed, that’s fine.  If you feel frustrated, that’s okay.  If you want to just move past it, there’s nothing wrong with that.  If you feel angry, that’s okay.  And if you feel like you need space, that’s okay too. There’s no wrong way to react to this,” he repeated.

“Except however Chloe would respond,” Alya added with a smirk.

“Hey!” Chloe objected loudly, glaring at the screen, but with no real heat behind it. “For the record, how I would respond to news like this is to spend all my new found father’s money, pressing my boundaries until he finally said something.  And if he didn’t say anything, I’d use those billions to do whatever the fuck I wanted and never see him in person.”

Marinette blinked at Chloe, as did the rest of the group.  That was certainly… an option.  Not one Marinette would ever choose, but it was…  Marinette started giggling at the idea.  Adrien joined her quickly while Max, Alya, and Nino watched them worriedly.  Chloe rolled her eyes and flipped the page in her magazine, but the corners of her lips quirked up.

“He is correct,” Max added, bringing them back to the original point.  “There are a variety of ways people will react to finding out they have a parent they didn’t know about.  Markov found hundreds of studies on psychological responses to similar news and responses are extremely varied.”

“Juleka had a harder time with accepting it and connecting to Jagged than Luka did, remember?” Adrien pointed out.  “And there’s nothing wrong with her.  She wasn’t wrong to react that way, right?”  Marinette shook her head reluctantly.  It wasn’t that she thought there was anything wrong with the way Juleka reacted, but in agreeing with Adrien’s observation, she would have to agree with his point that she was allowed to freak out about this instead of ignoring it like she wanted to.

“Marinette,” Alya raised her voice to bring attention back to her.  “You can do anything you want here and we’ll support you. You know that.  No matter how this ends we all love you.  No matter how you react, we’ll love you.  Nobody is going to judge you for any decision.”

Chloe scoffed.  She waited until everyone was looking, or in Alya and Adrien’s cases, glaring at her. “What?  You want me to lie to her?”  She looked incredulously at the other faces on the video call.  “We won’t judge.  Hell, I’m willing to scratch his eyes out in public for you.  But, your name was already getting out there and his name, now yours, is on the largest corporation in the world.  Every news and gossip organization is going to be talking about it forever if you guys don’t make a good show of it.”

“So?” Alya demanded incredulously.  “She should just do whatever is best for publicity?”

“Did I say that?” Chloe scoffed.  She finally put her magazine down to show how serious she was taking the conversation. “When have I ever let the threat of bad publicity stop me from doing something?  I just said it would be out there, not that she should care.  It’s a factor, a big one when she’s figuring out what she wants.”

“What do you want?” Adrien asked gently, turning his attention back to Marinette.

Marinette looked at Adrien for a few seconds while her brain whirred at high speed thinking through all the options.  What did she want?  None of this. That’s what she wanted.  After a few seconds she took a breath and let it out. “What I want is to not have to deal with any of this.  What I want is to not be his daughter.  What I want is to figure out where we want to live and work and start a company there like we planned.  What I want is to live a normal life now.”  She ignored Chloe’s scoff.  “What I want…” she sighed and looked away.  “What I want doesn’t matter.”

Chloe huffed almost loudly enough for it to echo.  “Of course it matters, it just doesn’t change the past or the current situation.  But, you control your next steps.  So Ladybug this bitch.  Some egomaniacal, rich, pampered megalomaniac has created an utterly ridiculous problem that you now have to fix.  This is your specialty.  Show this bastard who he walked out on.  Make him regret not dying with his parents.”

“Woah! What the Hell?” Nino exclaimed. “Too far.”

Chloe scoffed and looked back at her nails.  “If you think that was too far, you should have heard what I wanted to say.  I toned it way down for your sensitive ears,” she added condescendingly.  She just barely looked up when Marinette started giggling.  Chloe’s lips quirked up the more Marinette tried to stifle the slightly unhinged sounding giggles.

“Dude, that’s her grandparents…” Nino whisper shouted.  Marinette suddenly sobered and paled in realization.

“Or!” Adrien interjected with false excitement positioning himself between Marinette and the screen.  “Or, you could, you know, try to build a relationship with him.”  He looked decidedly away from the incredulous looks from Alya and Chloe and the doubtful look from Nino on screen, trying to pretend like they weren’t judging him.  He moved closer to Marinette and took her hands in his giving her a sincere, serious look.  “You have someone, your father, who wants to connect to you.”  

He ignored the loud scoff from the computer and continued as though Alya or Chloe, or both, hadn’t verbalized their opinion.  They clearly weren’t that opposed or they would have said it instead of making a noise.  He “accidentally” closed the video chat and gave Max a pointed look.  

Max nodded slowly.  “I’m just going to go to my room for a few minutes.  Let me know if you want to talk.”

Marinette and Adrien both shot him thankful smiles.  Adrien waited until his door was closed before looking back at Marinette with a concerned look.  “You got screwed in this deal.  Nobody can deny that, and however you feel, that’s real and valid.  It’s okay to be hurt.  It’s okay to be scared.  It’s okay to say this is too much for you right now, or ever.  But, do you really want to walk away?  Not connect to him?  Not try?”

“He didn’t want…” Marinette started weakly.

“Maybe he wasn’t ready,” he cut her off before she could spiral again.  “Maybe this is the universe’s way to saying it’s time. You got the embodiment of luck in your pocket.  Is it really so farfetched to think luck played a role?”

“Bad luck,” Marinette scoffed to the floor.  Adrien gently rapped her on the top of her head with his knuckle.  She looked back up and caught his unimpressed look. Marinette sighed and looked away before looking back up at him uncertainly.  “I don’t know…”

“Do you think you want to try?” Tikki asked floating out of her resting spot. “It’s your choice.  But I don’t think this is going away, so whichever decision you go with you’ll have to face the consequences.”

“Or I could just cataclysm him,” Plagg offered rubbing his paws together.  He darted away from Tikki before she could shut him up.

“No!” Marinette and Adrien chorused at the same time.

Adrien glared at Plagg but made sure to soften his eyes before looking back at Marinette.  “Okay, maybe things don’t work out with him.  But it sounds like you have siblings.  You already like Jason.  Maybe you’ll like them too.”  He gave her a small smile and rubbed her arms soothingly.  “You always wanted siblings.”

Marinette gave him a weak smile back.  “I don’t need siblings anymore.  I have you.  That’s more than enough.  I don’t think I could handle more of yous.”

Adrien scoffed good naturedly at her.  “If anything I’ve made having siblings more appealing.”

Marinette scoffed playfully.  “Keep telling yourself that,” she muttered.

He pulled her into a hug.  “You always wanted more.  And it sounds like you might have sisters.”

“More people he adopted after walking away,” Marinette groused into his shirt.

Adrien hugged her tighter.  “Maybe he had a reason?  Or maybe he just royally messed up.  Maybe he hates himself for the decision.  It’s something you won’t find out unless you stay.  And you can just talk once and see how you feel about it. If it doesn’t go well, you can walk away and we can find that bar Roy mentioned.  If it goes well, you can decide to stay or we can decide to move to New York or Metropolis, like we were thinking and you can still see him every so often.”

“Even if it doesn’t go perfectly,” Tikki added softly, “it’ll give you closure.  You deserve to have that.”

“And you’ll wonder what could have happened if you don’t,” Adrien nudged her gently.  “You know you’re going to regret not trying.”

“So is that an absolute no on the cataclysm idea,” Plagg popped up between them.  “Because I’m still willing.”

Marinette rolled her eyes at him but shot him a grateful smile.  It was as close as Plagg got to admitting he cared.  She scratched him on the forehead and looked back to Adrien with a frown.  “I don’t think I can handle this.”

“I’ll stay with you.  And Max will be here.  Tikki will be here for you.  Plagg will be here, but don’t let that deter you…”

“Hey!” Plagg pouted.

Adrien continued without acknowledging him.  “Chloe could be here in a few hours if we needed and she’d drop everything to get here, no matter what she says.  Alya and Nino will only be a phone call away.  We will support you no matter what you want to do. But we can’t make this decision for you, so, the question is what do you want to do?”

Marinette groaned and pouted at him.  “You sure you can’t do this for me?”

Adrien gave her a sympathetic look and shook his head. “Not this time, Bug.”  He waited a few minutes for her to think through her options.  When she looked just as lost after another few minutes after that, he spoke up gently. “Do you want to talk to Sabine and Tom first?  They might have some answers you need to make your decision.”

Marinette looked back up at him with a pathetic looking pout.  “Can’t I just sleep through this instead?”

Adrien chuckled and shook his head, relieved she was now in a light enough mood to make jokes.  “You could,” he nodded and put on a mock serious face, “but your problems will still be there when you woke up.”

“What bullshit,” she scoffed in a weak voice.

Adrien nodded.  “Yep, utter bullshit.”

Marinette kept eye contact with him for a few moments waiting for him to impart some kind of insightful wisdom upon her.  When he held silent and let her make her own decision, she whimpered and looked away.  “What if it isn’t him I cataclysm,” Plagg asked, flying between them.  “I could do it to his house instead… a few of his cars?  Rich people always have too many cars.”

Adrien grabbed him out of the air and shoved him in his pocket with an exasperated groan.  But Marinette giggled again.  When her laughter had settled, she took a deep breath and motioned toward her phone. Adrien smiled at her as he placed it in her hand.  She took a deep breath and pulled out the paper M. Wayne had given her.  She dialed one of the numbers before she could talk herself out of it, which knowing herself could happen if she was given more than a few seconds to think, and looked up to Adrien, letting his soft smile ground her.  “M. Wayne? It’s Marinette.  Would you be free for dinner tonight?”

Chapter 9

Tags:

@maribat-bdbwm @jayjayspixiepop @redscarlet95 @alice-hazelwood @deathssilentapproach-blog @unoriginalmess @alyssadeliv @emotionalsupportginger @frieddonutsweets @when-no-wings-do-broomsticks @toodaloo-kangaroo @colorfulmongerpsychicranch @iloontjeboontje @wolf-for-life @maribatserver @aespades @prettylittlebutterflie @imarivers8  @ certainmuffinbagelcalzone@ritacrow-blog @unoriginalmess @demonicbusiness @kking13 @lady-bee-fechin @blur-of-colours @kittenmywaythrulife @kashlyn @loysydark 

#maribat #bio!dad bruce #bio dad bruce wayne #roynette #Even the Losers #mbdbwm2021 #prompt - driving/cars #Yeah... I took a lot of liberties with this prompt #I'm pushing all the rest of the prompts back a day because this didn't fit any other way

[milqueandsugar]

🏵 Where The Sun Meets The Sea 🏵

Warnings: mentions of kidnapping/captivity , mentions of injury/violence

Pt: I

| Feeding Time |

Emeralds clattered against the wood counter top, followed by the wet slap of a small load of fish being dropped along side the currency. "This is it?" The piglin asked, irritation practically dripping from his words as he gestured to the goods with clawed hands. "I'm.. I'm sorry sir but you're clearing out my stock faster then I can replenish" a meek voice cut through the tension. The older shopkeeper's eyes couldn't focus on just the unhappy piglin in front of him or the even less happier polar bear nosing around his shop. "I'd get to working on that then" Technoblared snarled, eye brows furrowed and movements hasty as he grabbed the net from the counter and gave the polar bears leash a soft tug.

Getting up early in the morning to retrieve Steve his breakfast had become part of Technobalde's routine. He swore to himself that he would take as much care of Steve as he did the piglin, and he stuck true to that promise no matter what. Even if that meant fishing for a couple hours because some fishermen got lazy. With his new suppourt animal came more frequent visits to the nearby village, as much as he valued the villagers who worked for him in his own home, it was much cheaper to just go to the local butcher. 

Soon visits to the butcher became visits to the market, then the other shops, then the library. Although incomparable to his own, he lacked the self published one off works from the villagers. Some of his new favourite books were from that very library, although they never held an authors name, which made them hard to find anywhere else. Maybe it was the odd conditions the book were published which made him pick it up at first, but that didn’t really matter did it? What did matter was the friendship that came along with his frequent visits.

 The librarian was a kind woman, though a bit nosy for his taste. No matter the length of his visit he could always count on being filled in on the towns local drama. New borns, weddings, scandals, the local cryptids. Even if the woman herself wasn’t quite his type he could certainly appreciate her stories. Although he was certain they had to be embellished a bit. 

Coming up to the porch of the creaky building Technoblade tied the polar bear to the fence, dropping the load of fish to keep him preoccupied while he was gone. Stepping into the stuffy warmth of the library his nose wrinkled a bit as the smell of ciagrette smoke wafted through the air. It seemed the smell of smoke and mold had practically embedded itself into the very walls of the structure. Rather unpleasant but fitting for the place. Black eyes quickly caught sight of movement to his left, turning to give a curt nod to the woman behind the desk he quickly approached, heels clicking against the polished floors. “Technoblade! Bit early aren’t ya? It’s just passed eight” The woman declared, flipping closed what looked to be a romance book. 

“The wind woke me, I’m guessing it did you as well” Technoblade hummed, pulling out a stool to sit in front of the brunette. Her gray eyes rolled to the left, a small smile tugging at her lips as she swatted at him. “It’s rude to tell a lady she looks tired, do you know no manners?” She scolded, snuffing out her cigarette in a small tray. “It’s unethical to be smoking during buisness hours, I may be ill mannered but at least I would keep my job” He snapped back, a smile begining to form on his own lips as Iris hesitated. “Oh? So you do work then?” She hummed, leaning forward to rest her arms on the desk. 

Ever since he had met the lady she was infatuated with him, maybe it was because he was a piglin, or because he didn’t tell her anything. Either way she was obsessed with knowing anything she possibly could. She would dig her talons into the smallest of comments, there wasn’t much use hiding anything from Iris, it was only a matter of time before she found out eventually. 

“Anything to share today?” Technoblade quickly changed the topic, taking notice of the way Iris’s eyes narrowed. After a few seconds it seemed she had given up, leaning back in her rocking chair and kicking her feet onto the counter. Seemed today she was too tired to put up a fight about this, or she was unsure of her suspicions. “Well, I didn’t bring this up cause I thought it was a one time thing but..” Pausing for dramatics Iris continued her tale. “A couple of Fishermen have gone missing, given the weather everyone thought they either got lost or came across a polar bear. But! Some of the school kids were out playing by the water and they came across one of them” She  exclaimed, gesturing wildly with her hands as she spoke. 

“Dead?” 

“Dead as a doornail, they found the rest of their bodies too, apparently they’ve just been walking into the ocean by the looks of it. But here’s the kicker, they were always found in the same place and far from the water, on the shore yeah but the waves wouldn’t wash them up that far. The men have been talking, and from what I hear there’s a witch down there, drowning the fishermen”  Iris thought aloud, letting her feet fall from the desk as she leaned forward. “You know what I think?” She asked, not waiting for an answer before continuing. “I’m thinking Sirens” 

Technoblade rose a brow, interest piqued by the gossip to say the least. “Sirens? They lore sailors too sea not fishermen” He corrected, rising to his feet. “Fishermen, sailors, who cares! All I know is that a lot of people have died this week, and if you’re going fishing like I think you are” Isis gestured toward the fishing rod held tight in his clawed hands. “Then you should be careful” She warned, her voice lowering a bit. 

Technoblade shook his head, a scoff escaping him as he fixed his jacket to leave. “I will Iris, take care yourself” He mumbled a soft farewell before quickly leaving the library, knowing better then to let Iris continue with her stories. Untying Steve from the post he clambered a top the bear, pulling the reins tight as they started off towards the ocean. 

Sirens, huh? 

#dsmp x reader #mcyt x y/n #dsmp imagine #mcyt x reader #mcyt imagine #mcyt x you #technoblade x you #blood for the blood god #technoblade x reader #technoblade x y/n #techno x reader #philza x you #philza x y/n #philza x reader #where the sun meets the sea

[shades-of-stony]

Post CA:CW Fix It Stony Fanfics

Making Amends by TheseStoriesAreWrittenOnMyHeart

Summary: Everything about them happened in seconds. Their first meeting was quick, with Tony landing next to the Captain, each man giving a curt nod and name in greeting. Their argument on the hellicarrier took mere seconds to escalate. Until Steve was goading Tony into putting on the suit and going a few rounds and Tony not so subtly reminding Steve that he wasn’t afraid to hit an old man. It was only seconds of staring at Tony on that New York City Street, his arc reactor dark, no rise and fall of his chest, for Steve to know that inside the tin can, was a good man. Then Ultron happened, and it took seconds for their world to change, seconds for Steve to throw his shield at Tony and for the billionaire to send a repulsor blast back. They went from laughing and relaxing to standing on an edge thousands of feet above solid ground. And now…now everything’s changed. And all it took was a combination of seconds; of decisions made, actions performed and words spoken that they couldn’t get back. Just a few ticks of the clock for their world to shatter.

It’ll take more than that to make things right.

Note: This one deals with amending the accords. It is about how the avengers pick up after the civil war and how they learn to be friends again. It is an incredibly detailed and well written piece! Also, NO TEAM CAP OR TEAM IRON MAN BASHING. I was only supposed to re-read a few chapters to recall the story and give a few-word review but I ended up re-reading the whole goddamn thing. It’s a masterpiece. 

maybe love is the reason why (we're seeing it eye to eye) by parkrstark

Summary: "I'm sorry. Repeat that again." Tony leaned forward in his seat from across the table. He even stuck a finger in his ear as if he was cleaning it out. "I don't think I heard you right."

Fury rolled his eyes-- or well, eye. "You and Rogers need to go undercover as a married couple in a community out on Long Island."

--

After Civil War, Tony and Steve are sent on an undercover mission as a couple to try and find Hydra informants. Somehow, they end up with Peter as their undercover son who decides to play matchmaker even if the two of them are doing their best to ignore their feelings after Siberia.

Note: My latest Fix It read! It just completed today. This fic is a phenomenal read, with its fake relationship, superfamily, undercover, and sexual tension elements! A definite 1000/10!

and this is the map of my heart by CydSA

Summary: The Avengers are splintered - spread out across the world.

There are many things to regret. The biggest one is what could have been.

Tony refuses to have any more regrets. Steve realizes that perhaps he made the wrong choice.

It starts from here....

Note: Here is some sweet, sweet, Civil War Fix It. It dwells deep into the Accords, how Tony fixes it, and the downfall of Ross. 

floating point exception by ooka

There is something, he knows, to see a man as mortal. To see his fault lines and jagged edges instead of the smooth surface they present. Most people don’t like the illusion, whether it be good or not. They don’t want people like him to be human.

But that’s what he is, under the suit and the smile and the sunglasses. Under the bravo and the quick grins. He’s just a man, trying to hide his broken pieces, the dents in his heart, the washed out color of his soul. He’s just a man, trying to solve problems and make the world better. That’s why he’s Ironman, just a man in a suit. Nothing extra.

The place where the arc reactor used to rest in his chest aches so fiercely for a moment that Tony can’t breathe.

He takes in a few breaths and does what Tony does best - pushes it down and goes to work.

(Tony, after the Civil War. Post CA:CW)

Note: A 150k+ fanfic that is centered on Tony, his issues, and his struggles. PREPARE TO CRY.

Not Enough Scotch for this Matchmaking Scheme by desolateice:

Summary:  After Civil War and a lot of healing the Avengers are fed up with the stubborn silence between Steve and Tony and try to take things in their own hands.

Note: A Fix It where the ‘kids’ play matchmaker to bring their fighting ‘parents’ back together! 

Never Eye To Eye by vorkosigan for mrsgingles

Summary: After the Civli War, the Avengers were back together.

How is everything going, Tony? Pepper had asked in her email. It's fine (Tony had written back). I'm fighting with Steve all the time. Everything is going to hell. I'm okay (you know I'm always okay).

(Or: How Tony and Steve learned to be a bit gentler with each other)

Note: A 26k+ fic where Steve and Tony learned how to be friends again, and more. It deals with the struggles and frustrations they had just to salvage their friendship.  

Fly One More Time (Alternately Titled--The Phoenix) by RavenLost2187

Summary: Steve couldn't see them before.

But then he woke up and there they were.

There's a small problem though.

One of his teammates doesn't have wings like he should.

And that's Tony Stark

Note: Some winged fics anyone? This has a bit of a Team as Family element and not to mention that glorious Civil War fix it theme! 

What it’s worth by masterlokisev159

Summary:  Tony's scent is off. Wanda realizes why.

Note: Here is a Hurt and Comfort fic for you with a dash ABO elements in it! 

Sunrise Over the End of the World by Sapphic_Futurist

Summary: When Dr. Strange arrives at an Accords Committee Meeting and warns of the coming of an alien megalomaniac set on destroying the world, the Rogues are pardoned and Tony finds himself exactly where he never wanted to be. Back at the Compound with Steve, who still can't take a hint and won't leave him alone.

--

In which Tony is broken and Steve finds redemption.

Note: A Bad case of Tony acting like nothing happened and doing his goddamn best to avoid Steve. It’ll work all out in the end. Well, it will get worst first before that though.. 

We stand together (or not at all) by Jana_C

Summary:  It’s so easy to hate this man, so painfully easy. He’s the embodiment of rich, white male privilege. He’s irritatingly arrogant, and he doesn’t always think before acting, and even when he does, he manages to twist his logic around and shape it into something that will always benefit him, and yet, here he is, building the guy who killed his parents an arm, without having been asked; working his way through diplomacy and politics, even though he hates it with every fiber of his being, just so he can correct the mistakes all of them made. She watches him go and sighs, small and tired, before texting a single line to Steve. Get ready to come home.

Note: Anyone up for some Tony Whump and Appreciation fanfic? 

You Don’t Only Get One Shot by janonny

Summary: In which Tony voluntarily carries a tracker around, and learns how to talk to Steve all over again in-between and during kidnapping attempts.

“Leave you alone for two months, and you have an operation all set up to track wayward Hydra cells and rescue innocent billionaires,” Tony said, his tone skating the line of annoyance and admiration.

Note: a dose of Stalkerish!Steve (but not in an entirely creepy way because he just wants to keep Tony safe dammit). 

You've Got A Sister Now by ZaraMelMercury

Summary: It's been a year since the events of the Avengers' Civil War. Tony Stark is trying to pick up the pieces of his life, while juggling his work, his remaining friendships, getting therapy sessions for Rhodey and dealing with government politics, as well as the Accords.

It is a bit rough, but he's got Pepper (always a steady rock by his side), Rhodey, Happy and the Kid- Peter Parker. Tony would never admit to it up front and center, but you could always catch a proud look on the man's face whenever the young Spiderling was mentioned!

Life seemed to be looking up...

Except for one, minor detail:

Steve Rogers.

The hope for one reconciliation, surprisingly, led to another!

A new bond that would form that Tony would ultimately always be thankful for.

"Oh, I wanna take it back!... " "No, no, no, you can't retract it!"

Who would've thought it?

Tony Stark has a sister looking out for him, after all.

Note: Here are some Tony and Nat friendship for you! This one isn’t exactly a solid fix it but one with a more of hopeful ending. 

The Bro Code by Sullen

Summary: In a world where the Winter Soldier is found years earlier and is named Tony’s godfather, Zemo plays a different R-rated video and Siberia goes a little differently.Or –Steve breaks the bro code.

Note: This is just too cute and wholesome not to include. 

WIP

Used to be Mine by Fangirlingmanaged

Tony can't even recognize himself nowadays.

Note: This one certainly deserves a place at the heavy angst category because that’s what it is. HEAVY ANGST AND HEARTBREAK.

#stony #stony fics #stony fanfic #steve and tony #stevetony #stevetony fanfic #stevetony fic rec #SUPERHUSBANDS #steve and tony fics #stony fic rec

[giggly-squiggily]

Can I get a fresh lee Hinata ler Kageyama

“Your hands are in the wrong position when you block”

Heyo friends! This was such a blast to write! It got a little angsty in the beginning, here- but for the most part it is fluff and tickles! I hope you guys like it! X3

“Your hands are in the wrong position when you block.”

Hinata felt himself bristle, turning to glare at Karasuno’s setter with frustrated eyes. Normally the critique wouldn’t bother the redhead, if anything he’d appreciate the feedback.

However, considering this was literally the first thing Kageyama had said to him all day, and just how bad his day was going, period, he was a tad angry.

“What do you mean my hands are wrong? They’re in the correct position!” He snapped, earning a few wide eyes from the team around him. Kageyama blinked, just as taken aback. “No, they’re not! You look like you’re reaching for the sun instead of blocking the ball coming for you!”

Hinata didn’t respond- even in his mood he couldn’t deny Kageyama was right. Turning back to the net, he adjusted his wrists, trying to make them more angled. He could hear his friends quietly mutter to themselves, concern in their indistinguishable voices.

“Tch, they’re still wrong!” Kageyama approached the frustrated redhead, stopping when he was behind him. “Can I…” He referred to Hinata’s wrists, silently asking to touch. Once again, Hinata didn’t speak, not trusting his voice. Instead he gave a curt nod, feeling Kageyama’s hands clasp around his wrist. “Hey, what’s going on?” He heard the setter ask softly, feeling his arms be raised and hands adjusted with gentle touches.

What was going on? Hinata...realized he really didn’t have a real answer. The whole day was just a mess. He woke up late and missed breakfast. His homework somehow got so crumpled up in his bag his teacher told him to redo it. He banged his leg into a desk on the way out of class and face planted the floor. The whole day just felt like a massive failure.

“I...today is just not my day. I’m sorry for snapping at you. You didn’t do anything wrong.” Hinata finally spoke, hating how defeated his voice sounded. “Will you forgive me?”

Kageyama hummed to himself, still working on Hinata’s posture. Before he knew it, his wrists were captured in one hand. “I forgive you. However, I don’t like seeing you in such a shit mood.” His other hand found Hinata’s side, fingers wiggling lightly into his ribs. “Come on, smile for us!”

Instantly, Hintata started squirming, bright giggles and laughs escaping his lips. “Ah! Ahehahhahhahahahhaha! K-Kaahhhahahahgeyahhahahahama!” The setter chucked from behind him. Hinata could already envision the mischievous smirk on his lips as his hand moved from ribs to his armpits to his hip and back again. His cheeks were already flushed a warm pink color, eyes squeezed shut with mirth. “Kahahahhahahaahhahage!”

“What, does it tickle?” Kageyama teased, releasing his wrist and quickly adding his other hand to the tickly torment. When ten wiggling fingers dug into his belly, Hinata all but shrieked, flailing in the setter’s arms as his worst spot was tormented. “KAHAHAHHHAHHAHAHAHHGEEHHEHEHEHYAHAHHAHAHAMA!” He squealed, tears or mirth starting to dot his eyes. “Heh, that’s right, suffer!” Kageyama teased, voice warm.

The tickles went on for a few moments longer, the setter finally stopping when Hinata tapped out. Hinata slid to the floor in a heap of giggles, curling onto his side as he recovered. Kageyama kneeled down so he was sitting next to the giggly redhead, watching him fondly. “Feel better?” He asked with a grin, making Hinata blush.

“You know….I ahahacutally do…” Hinata breathed out, sitting up slowly with the help of his friend. Once he bounced back, he reached out and lightly shoved Kageyama, smiling brightly. “Thanks, even if it tickled like crazy.” The setter snorted, shoving him back just as gently before standing up, ruffling the redhead’s hair. “No problem, Boke. Anytime.”

I hope this was good! X3 Have an amazing day friends!

#Haikyuu #hinata shōyō #Tobio Kageyama #tickle #tickle dabble #light angst #fluff #I love these two so much! #Tickles for our Shoyo mouse!

[whump-me-all-night-long]

Jeweler!Sapphire AU (not canon)

Welcome to 3k words of this amazing AU idea that may or may not become a multi-parter. No editing, we die like.. idk. Please let me know what y'all think!!

Tagging the usual group (let me know if you only want to be tagging in canon stuff): @newbornwhumperfly @unicornscotty @itsleighlove @whump-scribbles @getyourwhumphere @skunkandgrenade @penny-for-your-whump @lektric-whump @just-a-whump-lover @thelazywitchphotographer @restrainthenmaime @angstyachesplus @lilbitwhumpy @leaderofthebeanarmy @aquard-skaii @whumprincess @thatgaysnail @finaldreams1106 @reveriedeludesme @kemonoinuzuka @circlingravens @whumpasaurus101 @spicy-wendigo @femmewithadhd @wafflestakethecake @lonesome--hunter @as-a-matter-of-whump @broadwaybabe18 @whumpinggoodtime @temporary-whump-sideblog @dumb-and-lesbian let me know if you want to be added/removed!

CW: talk of death (in a pretty disrespectful manner), talk of human trafficking, intimate whumper, hair pulling, noncon touching, some pretty noncon vibes near the end, uhhh Saph/Dustin is a real asshole, let me know if I need to tag anything else!

Masterlist

---

The sound of a ringing phone woke Dustin. With a groan, he rolled over in bed, blankets tangled around his legs. Blindly groping along his nightstand, he found his phone and answered the call, from an unknown number, blue eyes squinting against the flash of the bright screen.

“Yeah?” he answered, stifling a yawn.

“Is this Mr. Moore?” a timid male voice said.

Rubbing a hand across his face, Dustin sat up, glancing at the clock with a groan. “Yes, this is he,” he responded, voice tight. “Now who the fuck is calling me at four a.m.?”

A throat was cleared on the other end of the line. “Sorry to disturb you, sir, but I’m Nicholas Jameston.” There was a pause, as if he expected Dustin to recognize the name. “I’m your uncle’s lawyer.”

Dustin blinked, brow furrowing in confusion. “My uncle? You mean.. Uncle Spence?”

A curt “Yes, sir.”

“Okayyyy,” he drew out. “Listen, I haven’t talked to him in years. Since I left for college at least. Probably before even high school. You see, my dad and him, they didn’t really get along-” He cut himself off. Why was he telling this man anything? “Anyways, there must be some confusion. I don’t know why he wants his lawyer contacting me all of a sudden.” Shit, he thought. Did I break or steal something last time I was at his place? Is this what this is about?

There was an awkward beat of silence before the lawyer cleared his throat again. “No, sir, there’s no mistake or confusion. You see, you’re Mr. Spencer’s closest remaining blood relative.”

Dustin was really not awake enough for this conversation. “Just say what you need to and be done with it.”

“Your uncle is dead,” the lawyer finally said. “And you’re his sole heir.”

-

Dustin pulled up in his car, a shiny BMW he’d bought using his dad’s life insurance money a few years ago. He squinted against the darkness of early morning, checking the address again. This place looked less like a family home and more like a fortress. A prison.

He wondered, for the millionth time since getting rudely awoken and told that a man he’d met only a handful of times was a) dead and b) giving him everything, what exactly he was doing here. His dad must be rolling over in his grave. Not that Dustin particularly cared about that.

He knew that the brothers had never gotten along, that his dad, the older brother, had apparently “abandoned” the family business because it was “amoral,” but Dustin had never really been privy to the details. He rolled his eyes just thinking about his dad and his need to be righteous and perfect all the time.

That apparently had gone out the window at some point, but the bastard was too proud to go back to his brother - their parents were already dead by that time - and instead decided to start his own company, selling.. who knew? Certainly not Dustin. No, the young twenty-six-year-old was perfectly content enjoying his bachelor playboy lifestyle, feeding off mommy and daddy’s blood money.

“Mr. Moore?” A man was standing on the doorstep, fidgeting nervously with a thick manila envelope.

Dustin took one look at him and barely withheld a sigh. This man, short, balding, oily, was a lawyer alright. He raised one lazy eyebrow. “Jameson, I presume?” he called back, making his way slowly up the path to the door.

“Uh, it’s Jameston, sir,” the man corrected quickly.

Dustin didn’t bother to hide his smirk. “Whatever. Let’s just get this over with. It’s early and I have a busy day ahead of me. Left a pretty girl waiting for me to call. Wouldn’t want to disappoint.”

Not bothering to wait, Dustin stepped up to the door and opened it, stepping inside a grand foyer. He whistled softly, taking in the shimmering chandelier, the sweeping staircase, with a gold-woven rug running down the middle, and the many large and well-furnished rooms branching off from the entrance.

“Now this is a nice playhouse, huh?” he said, grinned indolently.

He saw Jameston’s jaw tighten fractionally. “Yes, sir,” he responded. “Now, I can give you a complete tour of the house now. However, Mr. Spencer’s real estate agent can do that when she arrives here in-” he glanced at his watch - a fake, Dustin had noticed - “a couple hours or so. Furthermore, there was a, erm, rather sensitive matter that Mr. Spencer tasked me with familiarizing you with personally.” He adjusted his tie slightly, clearly nervous, before motioning Dustin down one of the smaller hallways to the side.

His curiosity piqued, Dustin followed. “What do you mean? Oh, don’t tell me, was the old man into some shady illegal business? Drugs? Girls?”

Jameston shook his head, Adam's apple bobbing. “No sir. Your uncle, he was an.. art collector, of a sort. Well, he created his own art, really. However, it was not necessarily, um, legally acquired.”

Dustin barely held in a laugh at the lawyer’s clear panic. “Of course it wasn’t,” he scoffed. “Do you know how much shady shit has gone on in this family?” He couldn’t stop the bark of laughter this time. “Of course you do, you’re the lawyer.”

Jameston’s face flushed but he remained quiet until he reached an indiscreet door at the end of a short hall. If Dustin didn’t know any better, he’d assume it was a closet or something. Jameston cleared his throat as he opened the door. “Welcome to the Jewelry Box, sir.”

-

Carnelian sighed, his head falling back against the wall as he stretched his legs out along the small bed. The only sounds in the large room was the occasional movement from one of the others.

“That’s it,” he muttered, standing up and marching over to the glass wall. “Is anyone else wondering where the bastard is?” he called, frowning as he caught the gazes of several of the others.

Emerald just shook his head, silently warning him. Amethyst, however, scoffed, picking at her nails intently. “Why do you care?” she snapped. “It’s not like you’re ever doing anything but yelling and cursing.”

“So?” Carnelian shot back. “Aren’t you at least a little curious as to what’s going on?”

As if to answer his questions, he heard the door hiss open. Turning his gaze towards it, he felt his lips tugging down into a frown.

“Here we go again,” he muttered. “I knew the bastard would be back before long.”

Then he met the gaze of a stranger, arrogant and lazy and startlingly bright blue. Eyebrows flicking up, he blurted, “Who the fuck are you?”

Smirking, the stranger glanced at a smaller man next to him, one Carnelian had glimpsed down here once or twice before, always with the Jeweler. “I think I’d like to ask you the same question.”

The small man cleared his throat and began speaking, quietly enough that Carnelian couldn’t hear. Instead he took in the stranger, as if he couldn’t quite tear his eyes away.

The man was attractive, annoyingly attractive from Carnelian’s perspective. His skin was a bronzed tone, clear and smooth. He was tall, probably taller than Carnelian, with a lean, slightly muscled body. He had on a dark t-shirt that clung to his body and somehow looked expensive, with form-fitting jeans and some Converse high tops on as well. His dark brown hair was slightly wavy, with the top grown out long and falling into his face. Carnelian’s eyes drifted down towards his mouth before he forcefully pulled them back up to his eyes, which were-

Still on him. Carnelian felt himself blush and then scowl as he met the man’s gaze. Already he was getting on his nerves. And where the hell was the Jeweler? Was this stranger some new client of his, looking to buy one of them? At that thought, Carnelian felt a flash of panic through him and glanced over at Emerald, who was looking subtly at him as well, clearly thinking the same thing.

Carnelian tuned back in when the stranger exclaimed, “Are you shitting me right now?” The stranger was now looking at each of them, studying them more intently.

His gaze almost completely skimmed over Diamond and Ruby, both of them still curled up in their beds, watching with wary and confused gazes. He barely even noticed Amber, the new one still drugged to high heaven after mouthing off to the Jeweler yesterday. Carnelian doubted the kid could even remember their own name right now, much less stand up from where they were sprawled in their bed. He took a bit longer looking at Emerald, his defensive stance, wise eyes, then Amethyst, with her crossed arms and haughty expression, before finally settling on Carnelian.

After several long, tense seconds, he looked back at the other man. “So you’re saying,” he drawled slowly, deliberately. “That this, all of this, the house, the business, the.. Jewels-” his mouth twisted into a cruel smirk- “they’re all mine?”

Swallowing, the other man nodded. “Yes sir, that’s what I’m saying.” He drew out a piece of paper and, clearing his throat, began to read. “‘I hereby give the entirety of my properties, including my family home, my businesses, and my Jewelry Box, to my closest remaining blood relative upon my death.’ That would be you, Dustin Moore.”

There was a gasp from one of the other cells, where Diamond had stood up, flying to the window, eyes wide and frantic. “Death? Wait, no, Sir, he- he can’t be-” They dissolved into sobs, sliding to their knees on the floor.

Carnelian glanced around at the rest of the Jewels, the only sound coming from Diamond. The rest of them had frozen as well, not sure how they were meant to respond. Carnelian was reeling, glancing down as he took a shaky breath. On the one hand, he was glad the bastard was dead. On the other, well, the Jeweler had never looked at him the way the stranger, Dustin the other man had said, looked at him. The Jeweler looked at him like some prized object, something to be shown off proudly and then put back into storage. The Jeweler treated him less than human; Dustin’s gaze said he knew precisely how human Carnelian was, he just didn’t care.

Before he knew it, Carnelian was raising his head to glare at the other man, only to find him still looking at him. As Dustin slowly moved forward, he asked, “Did my uncle give these.. Jewels any names? Because I think I’m seeing a theme in them.” He stopped a couple feet away from the glass, his head tilted slightly. “The only one I can’t seem to figure out is this one.”

Carnelian’s lip curled. “Stay the fuck away from me,” he snarled softly, looking him up and down before raising his brows slightly. “Bastard jr,” he added.

Dustin almost seemed caught off guard before letting out a laugh. “I thought you said that he trained them to be all submissive and whatever,” he called over to the other. “Jameston, this one seems to be a bit feral.” He stepped even closer, lifting one hand to touch the glass. Carnelian fell back a couple inches, eyes still narrowed.

Jameston cleared his throat yet again. Carnelian would almost feel bad for the guy, if it wasn’t for the fact that he was complicit in letting him stay kidnapped. “Yes sir, your uncle had his ways of training them. However, he didn’t train them all the same way. He found that one’s fight to be..” He skimmed his notes quickly. “..rather appealing, sir.”

Carnelian made a noise of disgust as Dustin grinned. “I can’t say I blame him.”

Carnelian barely breathed until Dustin stepped away, turning back to Jameston. “Well, I’ve seen them all. Let’s go back upstairs now. I think I saw a nice liquor cabinet that I’d like to raid.”

Once they were both gone from view and the door had hissed shut, Carnelian leaned his head against the cool glass.

“You okay?” Emerald asked.

Carnelian just shook his head, a sudden lump in his throat. “The way he looked at me,” he said softly.

“I know,” Emerald murmured back.

He glanced up to find the older man looking at him with concern and pity.

“Well then,” Amethyst said loudly, breaking the silence that had fallen thick and heavy. “That was certainly something.”

Diamond sobbed loudly. “That.. that can’t be true. Can it?” They looked up, searching the others’ faces. Carnelian felt a twinge of pity for them. After over a decade of being trapped down here, they had been reduced to a mere shadow of whoever they might have once been. At whatever they might’ve seen on their faces, Diamond dissolved back into inconsolable sobs.

Resting her head on the wall, Ruby quietly asked, “So what happens now?”

There was a beat of silence before Emerald replied, “Now we wait.”

-

Back upstairs, Dustin was finally alone after getting rid of that annoying lawyer. He had had to practically shove the man out of the house to get him to leave. Even then, he had only left with promises to call later about the details.

For now, Dustin was sprawled out in a large, overstuffed armchair, a bottle of expensive whisky and a half empty glass next to him. He was already on his second glass, and he had no plans on stopping any time soon.

His mind drifted to the one who had glared and cursed at him. The smaller one, with the hard gaze, numerous freckles, and bright curly hair. The one Jameston had said was named Carnelian. Dustin looked up the stone and smiled at the pictures that were pulled up. Bright, fiery stones, of varying shades, Dustin had to admit, he could see the resemblance.

Pouring himself another glass, he sunk down further into the chair. He supposed he should be more concerned with the fact that there were six human beings locked in some creepy basement that he had apparently just inherited. But, after living the life that he had lived so far, Dustin had to admit that this was far from the craziest thing he had seen. He knew plenty of friends whose families had, well, less than legal people working for them, and now that he thought about it, he swore he could remember some show a few of his friends had gone to where the host had all his pets or whatever they were called designed as gemstones.

He laughed softly, quietly murmuring, “Carnelian, huh?” before draining the glass and pouring one more.

-

It was hours later when Carnelian awoke in the darkness. The bright lights, luckily, were still on their automated timer, so they had shut out at their usual time. It had been hours since Diamond’s sobs had slowly petered out and since the others’ quiet, stilted conversations had dwindled. Now, everyone was asleep.

Well, everyone except Carnelian. It took him a moment to figure out what had awoken him, a soft tapping on the glass wall of his cell. With a soft groan, he rolled over, out of the bed, squinting in the dim light.

In front of him stood the silhouette of a man. A couple seconds later, Carnelian recognized him as Dustin, his new.. owner. He almost snorted at the title. This man wasn’t any older than Carnelian, and he looked and behaved like an entitled, overprivileged frat boy.

Carnelian slowly walked closer. “What the hell do you want?” he whispered, because he didn’t want to accidentally wake the others and unleash the chaos that would bring with it. It took him a moment to realize that Dustin was fiddling with the lock on the door.

Without answering him, Dustin finally figured out how to unlatch it and swung the door open. He looked back up at Carnelian and made a silent motion for him to follow as he padded back towards the door.

Frowning, Carnelian carefully stepped out, towards him and the hallway beyond, where he could see light spilling out from the door. Knowing it probably wasn’t very smart, Carnelian walked into the hallway, squinting slightly at the suddenly bright lights.

Before he knew what was happening, there was a hand fisting in his hair and pushing him up against the wall. Carnelian looked up, eyes wide, to find Dustin standing much too close to him and several inches taller than him.

Feeling his breath stutter and his heart skip a beat, Carnelian breathed out, “What the hell do you want?” He barely dared take his eyes away from Dustin’s.

With the hand not pinning him to the wall, Dustin leaned closer and wrapped a curl around his finger, pulling until Carnelian wince slightly before letting it go, watching it bounce. This close, Carnelian could smell the whisky on his breath.

“Are.. are you drunk?” he asked, swallowing hard when that steely blue gaze met his, hazy yet surprisingly clear.

“That’s irrelevant,” he said, smirking as he pushed closer to Carnelian, who tried to pull away, but one vicious yank on his hair had his eyes watering and stilled the rest of his body. Dustin raised a hand and slowly traced over Carnelian’s cheeks, ending with one finger following the outline of his lips. “You’re Carnelian.”

Carnelian barely resisted the urge to squeeze his eyes shut and instead held his breath, eyes wide and searching Dustin’s. He didn’t dare to breathe, much less speak, so he didn’t ask why Dustin had said something he already knew the answer to.

It felt as if an eternity had passed before Dustin pulled away, shoving Carnelian roughly back towards the door. “I’ll see you in the morning,” he said glibly, pulling the door shut once Carnelian was through, leaving him back in the darkness.

Immediately, Carnelian went back to the one place he never thought he’d call safe. Once he had pulled the glass door closed, hearing the lock click, he curled up in his bed, as far away from the door as he could get, the thin blanket pulled over him as his heart beat in his throat.

He didn’t sleep a wink for the rest of the night.

#the jewelry box #jeweler!sapphire #carnelian sugar #emerald love #amethyst doll #ruby honey #diamond darling #whump #whumpee #multiple whumpees #whumper #intimate whumper #talk of death #talk of human trafficking #hair pulling #noncon touching #noncon vibes #idk that end bit there has some Vibes(TM) #ahhhhhh idk why i'm so nervous to post this #i'm actually pretty excited too #so please let me know what y'all think! #and if y'all would be interested in more!

[refinedbuffoonery]

Looking Through A Window (7)

macriley married undercover au

masterlist.

Sorry for the delay! I either have my shit together in real life or fandom life, but never both at the same time lol. Anyway, I got endless joy from reading all your reactions to last chapter’s clifhanger (sorry not sorry). I didn’t respond to comments because I don’t trust myself not to spoil anything, but just know that I appreciate every single one of your theories. Also, many of you were at least somewhat correct. (Yikes am I becoming predictable?? Gotta fix that.) This chapter ends at a good stopping point, so I’m going to switch gears and write a couple chapters of other fics (which I encourage you to read!!) before coming back to this. But fear not! I have big plans for the future of this fic, and I’ll send you all down the theory rabbit hole soon enough. xoxo

*****

The world narrows until Mac is only aware of two things: his racing heart and the fact that Riley is gone. 

The blood is fresh, but there’s no sign of a struggle—no sign of anything, really. The windows are locked and unbroken, the bedroom door is half-closed the way it always is. Not a single thing is out of place…except for Riley. 

So, where the hell is she? 

His body goes taut as the worst case scenario plays in his mind. Please don’t be gone, Mac silently begs. Please. 

The apartment is quiet. Too quiet. So when the shower turns on with a loud thunk, Mac flinches. Hard. Without thinking, he scrambles out of bed and lunges for the bathroom door. 

As he bursts through the door, Mac’s awareness shifts to three things: Riley is alive, she’s naked, and she’s screaming. 

“Mac!” She hisses, glaring over her shoulder. If looks could kill, he’d be very, very dead by now. At least her back is to him. “What the hell?” 

Mac barely hears her over the roaring in his ears. He scans her naked body, trying and failing to be professional as he scans for injuries. 

His eyes land on the blood smeared between her thighs, then the thin stream rolling down the inside of her knee. As understanding dawns on him, Mac holds out his own blood-covered hand in silent explanation. 

Riley winces. “Sorry about the blood.” 

Mac still feels a little disconnected from his body when he says, “I was afraid you were dead.”

Embarrassment floods Riley’s face. She begs,“Can we please finish this conversation when I’m not naked and bleeding all over the floor?” Mac’s gaze automatically flicks to the drops of blood between her feet, but he doesn’t move. His limbs are still frozen in place, the way they’ve been since he found her. “Get out!” Riley snaps. 

His own embarrassment finally taking hold, Mac stumbles backward, tripping over the door frame on his way out. 

While Riley showers, Mac busies himself by stripping the bed and washing the sheets and blankets. Not just because it needs to be done, but because it’s easier to process emotions when his hands are busy. It feels like he just experienced the entire spectrum of human emotion in the span of three minutes, and now all these untethered feelings are floating around in his head. As he works, Mac examines them one by one. 

He woke up this morning wanting to cuddle with Riley. Not just wanting to, but comfortable enough to act on that desire. 

When his hand landed in the blood, his brain immediately jumped to the worst case scenario. He is deeply afraid of said scenario. 

Then panic set in, as he desperately tried to prove himself wrong. 

Followed by relief at finding Riley and learning the blood was not from an injury, but from a normal bodily function. 

Then embarrassment, because he freaked out and barged in on her over something he could’ve deduced for himself if only he’d just stopped to think. He’s supposed to be smart, so why couldn’t that big brain of his, as Jack would say, figure this out? 

The answer to that question, at least, comes easily: Because it’s Riley, and he doesn’t always think with his head when it comes to her. 

For example, while he’s mortified at seeing her naked, a part of him wishes she’d been facing the other direction. 

Mac starts the washing machine and decides to do the mature thing and hide in the kitchen for the entire foreseeable future. He spies Harley lying on the couch, gazing out a window. “And where were you for all of this?” he asks. “A heads-up would’ve been nice.” 

Harley stares at him for a few seconds before resuming her vigil, and Mac hears the message, loud and clear: You’re on your own. 

When Riley still hasn’t emerged from the bedroom long after the shower turned off, Mac suspects that she’s hiding too. He doesn’t blame her. 

It’s late morning by the time the laundry is finished, and Mac can’t hide any longer. Clutching the still-warm sheets and blankets to his chest, he cautiously ventures into the bedroom. Riley is lying on the bed with her knees tucked up to her chin, and a pang of sympathy echoes in Mac’s chest. Her eyes are closed, but Mac doubts that she’s actually asleep. 

Dropping the sheets on the floor, he asks, “Are you alive?” 

Riley groans. “No.” 

“Could you please go die on the couch then, so I can make the bed?” She groans again and mumbles something incoherent. “Also you’ll feel better if you eat something.” 

“No I won’t.” She sounds like a whining toddler, and Mac has to stifle a snort. Still, a bit of the awkwardness dissipates. But only a bit. 

“Yes you will. I know you, Miss Hangry.” 

“I’m not hangry.” 

“Says the one who skipped breakfast.” 

“I was hiding from you.” 

“So was I,” Mac confesses. Riley cracks a single eye open at that, just in time to see his cheeks heat. “Trust me, I am way more embarrassed than you.” 

It takes him a second to notice that she’s blushing too. “Wanna bet?” 

Mac starts putting the fitted sheet on the unoccupied side of the mattress. “I didn’t see anything, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Nothing he hasn’t seen before, anyway, but Mac wisely decides to keep that part to himself. “Victoria’s secret is still a secret,” he adds with a wink. 

Riley rolls her eyes. “You did not just say that.” 

“Made you laugh, didn’t it?” Mac gives her a shit-eating grin, and despite her best attempt at hiding it, amusement slips through the cracks in Riley’s unimpressed facade. 

“Whatever. We don’t have to do anything today, do we?” Mac raises his brow at the question. For all the years he’s known Riley, she’s always been more of a ‘suck it up’ kind of person, not a ‘stay in bed’ person. So her question is surprising, if not mildly concerning. 

“Nope.” He pauses. “Are you okay? This isn’t like you.” 

Riley rolls onto her back. “Dude, it feels like someone took a cheese grater to my insides.” 

Mac winces at the mental image. “Ouch.” 

She pauses, as if contemplating her next words before she says them. “I got a new IUD a couple months ago, and this one makes my cramps way worse. I used to be able to ignore them, but this sucks.” 

Not knowing how to reply to that, he squeezes Riley’s ankle in a way he hopes is reassuring. Mac flicks his gaze up to meet hers and finds Riley already looking at him. Her gaze is warm and steady, but Mac can see hints of pain clouding her dark eyes. He thinks it isn’t fair that her body turns on her like this. 

"I'm getting back in bed the second you're done making it," she warns. 

"Go right ahead." 

Riley wanders into the kitchen, and, true to her word, reappears right when Mac finishes smoothing down the comforter, with Harley at her heels. To Mac's surprise, Harley jumps on the bed, waits for Riley to get situated, and then tucks herself into Riley's side. A smile blooms on his face. Riley puts an arm around Harley, pulling the dog into her stomach before moving to scratch her head. When Harley licks Riley’s face in return, Mac suddenly gets the feeling he's watching something private. 

Satisfied that Riley is in capable hands, Mac leaves without another word.

*****

Beneath the weathered wooden conference table, Harley’s head rests on Mac’s foot as she dozes through the Patriots’ council meeting. When they arrived, no one looked more put off by their presence than Conrad, but, true to his word, Ethan welcomed Mac and Riley with open arms and encouraged their participation. A murmur of dissent snaked through the room, but no one openly questioned Ethan’s decision to include them. 

Twenty minutes in, Mac would rather be anywhere but here. The “meeting” so far has been very little business and mostly rehashing some fishing trip a few of the guys went on over the weekend. Mac is holding out hope that it won’t be a complete waste of his time, but said hope dwindles each time someone exaggerates about the size of a fish. 

There’s nothing interesting to look at in the room, save for Riley. No art, no plants, no wall of guns. Not even a clock. Just drab gray walls with no windows. And he doesn’t dare study any of the men for longer than a second or two each. Making an enemy is as easy as looking at someone the wrong way, and Mac has no desire to antagonize the other members of the Patriots…at least not yet. 

Extricating his foot from beneath Harley’s head, he’s just about to make an excuse about needing to use the restroom when Ethan’s phone rings. After quickly checking it, Ethan excuses himself from the meeting with a curt nod to Conrad. Mac understands the look; he’s given and received it countless times himself, after all. Permission to continue without him. Because despite his tendency to toe the line, Conrad is still Ethan’s trusted lieutenant. The exchange is subtle, practiced, and apparently insignificant to the other men at the table, who are somehow still talking about fish. 

When the storytelling finally lulls, Conrad clears his throat. "Let's start with recruitment. Report." No nonsense, right to the point. Maybe he’s tired of the fish conversation too. 

As Conrad steers the conversation through the various items on the agenda, Mac realizes two things. 

One, the Patriots are far more organized than he originally made them out to be. This is no grassroots startup, and their plans go much deeper than protests and parking lot shootings. 

Two, Conrad is careful not to let anyone share too much information, instead asking everyone to give their detailed reports in individual meetings. And it's more than just trying to keep him and Riley in the dark. It's almost as if…almost as if Conrad doesn't want anyone to see the big picture besides himself. 

Mac decides to take his theory for a test drive. "I know I'm new here," he says, "but why have everyone meet with you a second time individually instead of sharing their full reports now? Wouldn't that be a better use of time?" 

Conrad sneers. "On the contrary, boy, why would I waste everyone's time making them listen to information they don't need to know?" 

It takes every ounce of Mac’s self control not to roll his eyes. 

Beneath the table, Riley grips his knee, nails digging in through his khakis. Mac wants to tell her that he’s thinking the same thing she is, but he can’t. The best he can settle for is a brief touch on her arm before needing to do something with his hands to distract himself from the way his skin burns under her touch. He elects to drum his fingers on the table, mostly to push Conrad’s buttons even further. 

If Conrad’s furrowed brow is any indication, it works. 

“Do you mind?” Conrad says with a pointed glare at Mac’s hand. 

Feigning ignorance, Mac replies, “Mind about what?” 

“The tapping.” 

“Oh!” Mac makes a show of sliding his gaze down to his hand before flattening his palm against the table. “My bad.” 

Looking none too pleased, Conrad moves on, but to Mac’s surprise, the man sitting beside him leans in to whisper, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. He's not the one to piss off." His words are tinged with genuine concern, and under different circumstances, Mac would appreciate the advice. 

"He's a man," Mac whispers back, "just like everyone else at this table." Minus Riley, of course. 

The man presses on. "The previous occupant of your seat was shot point blank for asking too many questions." Mac's brows raise at that. "You're sitting in a dead man's chair." 

Mac pockets that little detail gratefully, but he hesitates before ultimately heeding the man's warning. He fiddles with the button on his sleeve, impatiently waiting for the meeting to end so he can share his theory with Riley. 

What Mac doesn't anticipate is Riley beating him to it, pulling him aside before they're even back in the car. "Conrad's compartmentalizing information," she says in a quiet, confident tone. 

They’re too exposed to be having this conversation. Mac nervously checks for eavesdroppers, but doesn’t spot any. Deeming it safe for now, he replies, "Yeah I thought so too." 

"He's made himself essential. No one else knows how everything works." Riley pauses, eyes catching on something over his shoulder. Barely audibly, she adds, "An asshole and a control freak." He doesn’t need to turn around to know she’s looking at Conrad, not when she has a white-knuckled grip on Harley’s leash. 

"So if we eliminate him…" 

Riley nods in understanding. He’s controlling everything in an attempt to rise through the rankings and seize power. So if they eliminate Conrad, the whole organization may very well come tumbling down in his wake. 

Now they just have to figure out how the hell to accomplish that. 

"What if we help him?" Riley suggests, reading Mac’s mind. 

"What?" 

"We've spent all this time looking for the weakest link, but maybe…maybe we need to attach ourselves to the strongest one." A stray curl falls in Riley's face, and as she brushes it behind her ear, Mac absentmindedly wishes his fingers were brushing it back instead. Riley continues, "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I think we should help him become more powerful than he already is. That way, we can do as much damage as possible when we take him out." 

A man they don't know walks by, and Mac nods in greeting. Waiting for the man to move out of earshot, Mac drops to one knee, giving Harley a good scratch. She wags her tail and opens her mouth in a smile, clearly enjoying the attention. When the coast is clear again, Mac says, "You just made this op so much longer, but I think you're right." 

Riley snorts. "What, is there somewhere else you need to be?" 

Gazing up at the woman before him, the answer is obvious. Not unless you're coming with me. 

*****

In the gray hour before dawn crests over the world, Mac wakes to something tickling his nose. He exhales sharply, trying to blow it away, but the tickle persists.

His face is pressed into the nape of Riley's neck, and a deep inhale causes a few strands of her hair to go up his nostrils. Reaching up to brush Riley’s hair out of his face, he hesitates right before his calloused fingers brush her skin, afraid that even the barest touch will shatter the moment. As soon as Riley wakes, he'll have to hide behind his mask of indifference, and Mac isn't ready to do that yet. 

For as long as he dares, Mac allows himself to imagine what it would be like to wake up with Riley for real, in his own home. He sees her curled in his bed, sheets pulled up to her chin, hears the soft, steady cadence of her breathing, smells the lingering traces of perfume on her skin. 

Riley stirs in his arms, and the vision blurs, moving out of reach. Mac grasps for it, but it evaporates into nothingness as she settles back against him. 

He shifts his focus to the very real sensation of Riley’s body tucked into his. Her back to his chest, his leg slotted between hers, her ass pressed against his—

Shit. 

Mac jerks backward, trying to put as much space between them as possible before Riley wakes and realizes just what she scooted back against. 

Except, in his haste, Mac doesn’t realize there’s a third party present until his foot slams into the small, warm body lying at the foot of the bed. Guilt washes over him at Harley’s ensuing yelp. 

Awake, Riley mumbles, “Did you just kick the dog?” 

“It was an accident!” Mac insists, sitting up. He turns his attention to Harley. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. You can come back if you want.” He pats the bed in a way he hopes is reassuring, but Harley merely eyes him with suspicion before slinking out of the room. 

“I can’t believe you kicked the dog,” Riley says, still half-asleep. “She finally slept with us, and you betrayed her.” 

“I told you it was an accident!” 

“Betrayal.” 

Mac rakes a hand through his hair. “You’re never going to let this go, are you?” 

“Nope.” Riley sighs, rolling back to her side of the bed, and Mac isn’t sure whether to be relieved or disappointed. Or maybe a little bit of both. “You better go apologize.” 

Mac scoffs. “And let you take over the entire bed while I’m gone? I don’t think so.” 

And there it is. The closest they’ve come to acknowledging the evolution of their bed-sharing habits. Particularly the newfound lack of sticking to their respective sides. If he’s being honest with himself, Mac doesn’t know where to go from here. He wants to see it as a sign of things changing between them. Obviously Riley is aware of their precarious positioning, but based on her casual relocation, she doesn’t see this any differently than the dozens of times they’ve slept squished in a small space together in the past. Whether she’s aware of the other thing, she doesn’t let on. 

“Your funeral,” Riley says, pulling Mac out of his head. 

Right. 

The dog. 

The dog whose forgiveness he needs to earn via extra breakfast. Maybe extra dinner too. 

Sighing, Mac goes after her, cursing his inability to get things right with either of the females in this house. 

.

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#beth writes #looking through a window au #macgyver #macriley #angus macgyver #riley davis

[trexy225]

DSD-Chapter 23: I'm Running on Two Hours of Sleep Pray For Me

Summary: Noodles and Company got my order wrong again.

“Ok, ok, ok so I’ve been… how long has it been?” Norman sputtered.

“God damn it, Otto…” Curt muttered as he tried to slap Otto awake.

“Over a decade… I’ve lost count,” Adrian answered.

“But I’ve been… here? And you all thought that… monster was actually me?” 

Adrian, Martin, and Max looked at each other. Norman huffed.

“Wow.”

“He’s losing blood, fast,” Curt warned.

“What the hell happened to Otto? Why does he have those actuators on? Where the hell are we?” Norman looked around, extremely confused.

“I have blood in one of my vans.” Martin offered, and everyone looked at him. 

“...why do you have blood in your van?” Norman asked.

“Vans.” Martin corrected. “...I have Morbius on my payroll, and blood is money, at least on the black market.” 

“...you’re all insane.”

“Yes Norman, we are. But you are too.” Adrian pointed out. 

“Curt is a god damn lizard.” 

“Do you want to be one too? I’ve been theorizing that if we-” Curt rambled excitedly, Max rolled his eyes.

The elevator doors opened, and Aaron stepped out, he had been waiting the whole time. His shoulders slumped when he saw Otto, he didn’t win. 

Otto slowly woke up, there was a pounding sensation in his head… Hana, where was Hana?! He stood up, shouting. He felt Curt restrain him.

“Whashappeninwher” he slurred.

“You’re still under sedatives Otto, just give it a minute,” Norman said, Otto blinked.

“...Norman?” he asked.

“Yes, yes it’s me. The real me, I-I dusted off one of our old blueprints, and…” he held up a tiny chip, Otto's eyes widened.

No

Don’t

We can do so much together still

We must kill Fisk

We must get Hana

That’s what you wanted, right?

And then we can take over-

“I can do those things without you controlling me.” Otto snapped, he hissed in pain, Norman stepped forward.

“Who is he talking to?” Norman asked.

“Harry and Larry,” Max answered as if this was completely normal.

“...They can talk to you? We didn’t program them to-then that must mean that they’re an adaptive AI, that-that’s never been done before! Otto this is…” Norman stopped his excited rambling and finally read the room.

See, he gets it.

You can’t just get rid of us Otto

We will come back

The chip won’t stop us

You’ll be sorry Otto

Don’t-

“Do it.” Otto blurted out, Harry and Larry flailed around, lashing out.

“I’m sorry Otto!” Max yelled as he tackled Otto, the actuators stabbed Max in the side, but he didn’t let go. Otto cried out as electricity rushed through his body. He fell limp, Norman gagged at the scent of burned hair, Max had disinigrated Ottos beard.

“...you killed him.” 

“No… I think that should’ve been enough to just short him out temporarily, Norman do it.” Max winced, clutching his side. 

Norman muttered something under his breath as he installed the chip, everyone held their breath.

“Does he just wake up?” Martin asked.

“I almost killed him Li, he’s not waking up for a while. Oh god, this hurts, I think they’re barbed shit.” Max muttered.

Curt went over to check Max, his tail grabbed a towel and he pressed it against Max’s wound. Max stifled a yell.

“Keep pressure on it… I believe that he ruptured both your spleen and liver, I will need to take a better look.”

“Of course he did.”

“At least he didn’t go for any of the important bits.” 

“How thoughtful of him,” Max said bitterly.

“Now, if you were a lizard-”

“I am not turning into a god damn lizard Connors!” Max snapped, he grimaced, the towel

“...fine. Let’s get you patched up.” 

“What are we called?” Norman asked.

“The Sinister Six,” Adrian replied.

“...There’s only four of us.” Norman pointed out.

The author realizes that now but she refuses to acknowledge that.

“Talk to JJ Jameson if you want it changed.” Adrian shrugged.

“So you

“...what was I like?” Norman asked.

“Mean, psychotic, bloodthirsty, the whole package,” Martin added in.

“...I killed people?” Norman muttered.

“We’ve all killed people.”

“Even Otto?”

Curt laughed “Especially Otto.”

“He wouldn’t hurt a fly, he was dedicated to saving the world-” he argued.

“He just stabbed me several fucking times Osborn.” Max snapped.

“But this inhibitor chip will fix it, he’ll be himself again, just like I am.” Norman rationalized.

“Do you think he can just go back to teaching at Columbia? Be accepted into the scientific community with open arms?” Martin asked.

“...I need a drink.” Norman sighed.

Fisk stumbled back in pain, his face white. A large pool of blood was gathering around him, he sneered at you. “What the hell are you doing? Help me,” he ordered.

You scoffed, why the hell would you help him? Your eyes settled on one of Fisk's guns, it was thrown to the side… Next to one of Otto's actuators. You fumed as you dragged yourself over to it.

“Don’t you dare,” he growled. Your hands shook as you took the pistol in your hands, you aimed it at his head, and you fired.

“...It’s so quiet,” Otto muttered, they were gone… The voices were gone. It was as if he had woken up from a coma, a rush of memories flooded his mind, he now realized that the actuators had altered them, they were manipulating his thoughts… He had killed so many people.

“I’m a monster,” he whispered.

“Otto? Oh, Otto!” Norman tackled him into a hug, Otto winced at the wounds, but he gave a gentle smile to his old friend. 

“It’s me Norman… It’s me.” Otto assured him, it really was him… He’d wasted so many years of his life, doing what? Getting revenge for something- …He killed Spiderman, he killed an innocent man who was just trying to save lives. He could never forgive himself. He looked up at Norman and jumped, behind him was Hiro, black liquid coming out of his eyes… He did that, but Hiro wasn’t here… Hana, he didn’t save Hana! He failed, he failed to help you, to tell you the truth. But he was afraid, he was a coward.

“You can’t get rid of us Otto.” Hiro rasped as he faded away. 

The chip won’t stop us… Harry's voice echoed in Otto's head. 

Otto chuckled at that, of course, the chip didn’t fully work. He may have control over his actuators and mind… But he was still insane. 

“Did I do something?” Norman asked, worried.

“No, no… Where’s Hana?” Otto asked.

“...We didn’t get her.” Martin shifted uncomfortably.

“WHAT?! Did you SEE what he was doing to her?!” Otto roared, he tried to get up, but the wounds started to reopen, Curt held him down.

“You were going to be killed Otto, we didn’t have a choice!” Adrian argued.

“...We have to go back.”

“You’re too weak-” “She’s going to die if we don’t get back!” Otto snapped.

“I didn’t know that he was going to go that far…” Martin confessed.

“Don’t play dumb Martin, you run a human trafficking ring.” 

“...it’s too risky.” 

“Who’s this Hana?” Norman asked on his second bottle of beer.

“Trouble,” Curt muttered.

“Fisk’s girl,” Max answered.

“She’s not Fisks,” Otto grumbled.

“Then is she yours?” Norman asked.

“She doesn’t belong to anyone, I wish I could say that if anything happens to her, I’ll kill him… But I know that he’s doing things to her right now… And I’m stuck here, with all of you heartless monsters!” Otto tried to get up again, but Curt held him down. “You are going to reopen the sutures!” Curt scolded.

“I don’t care, let me go to her!” 

“He loves her?” Norman asked Adrian.

“For about three years now, he finally talked to her about three months ago… And other things.”

“...no, not Otto.” Norman laughed, remembering their college days when Otto was a stumbling mess around anyone that he liked.

“I haven’t seen him look at anybody like that for a while, but Fisk has been controlling her, using her as leverage.”

“...And that’s where she is? With Fisk?” Norman asked.

Adrian looked away.

Otto grabs Curt with one of his arms and gets up, the IV’s were ripped off of him, and a trickle of blood ran down his forearm.

“I have to go… I have to…” He stumbled as he set Connors down, the actuators carried him to the window of the building.

“Aren’t you going to stop him?!” Norman looked at Curt frantically.

“No. Let him do this, I can’t control him.” Curt said calmly. 

“Thank you,” Otto muttered as he jumped out of the window, the actuators launched him towards Fisk tower, he was so close…

And then somebody kicked him in the jaw.

The gun clicked, but nothing fired. Your eyes widened and Fisk gave a weak laugh. He had his phone out.

“If you had helped me, I might have gone easy on you tonight… But I won’t.” the elevator doors chimed open and Dr. Smith got out, he gasped as he ran to you.

“She’s fine, I’m not.” Fisk snapped.

“Mr. Fisk-” Dr. Smith started. Fisk shakily held up one of his guns, how the hell did he have so many? 

“Do you want me to ask you again?” he threatened. 

Dr. Smith looked at you helplessly but obeyed. You watched him patch Fisk up, the entire time Fisk had his eyes on you… You were going to die.

#fanfiction #fanfic #doc ock #doctor octopus #dr octopus #otto octavius #otto octavius x reader #doc ock x self insert #doc ock x y/n #dr octavius #docock #doc ock x reader #doctor octavius #kingpin #norman osborn #green goblin #dr curt connors #the lizard #max dillon #electro #adrian toomes #angst #alfred molina

[myfearless-love]

The Wildest Place You Run (5/?) - Not Far Now

I'm sorry for the delay: traveling and vacation made it impossible to post, but in turn, you'll get two chapters this week (including this). This one is a bit shorter, but you'll see why in the next chapter (spoiler alert: too many action).

As always, a huge thank you to my beta and artist @thejollyroger-writer for correcting my mistakes and making kick-ass art for chapters 5 and 6! Check it out above!

Summary:

Vampires, Werewolves, Mages, and Elves. For centuries, they kept their existence a secret, but the constant rebellions against the strict laws of the Guild had led to a terrible tragedy. In an open clash, it became apparent to humans just what kind of monsters lived among them. Emma Swan loses the love of her life in the first battle of the war. A few months later, while still trying to process what happened, a mysterious and terrifying figure worms his way into her life. But the man is hiding far more terrible secrets than he reveals to her, pulling them both into a horrible situation...

Chapter: 5/? - Not Far Now

Fandom: Once Upon a Time

Rating: M

Relationships: Killian Jones/Emma Swan

Read on: FF.net or AO3

Words: ~2k

Previous parts:

Ch 1 II Ch 2 II Ch 3 II Ch 4

.

The next morning she woke up on the couch, curled up, leaning her head on the armrest. Someone, probably August, had covered her with a blanket and left her there. She was used to it, he often disappeared without a word, and he was the only one she couldn't hold it against.

She sat up slowly, and it took her half a minute to discover she was alone.

Again.

She scrambled out from under the quilt and slipped out into the kitchen. Her neck was throbbing, she was cold, and she still felt exhausted despite the few hours of sleep she'd gotten. Her day had started out shitty.

Again.

(There were many recurring things in her life that she would've preferred to avoid.)

As she glanced at the clock to see it was ten in the morning, her eyes caught a yellow note on the fridge, adorned with David's almost illegible scrawl.

I'll be home late. Take care of yourself!

Sighing, she crumpled the paper in her palm and tossed it straight into the bin beside the kitchen counter. She opened the refrigerator and was disappointed to find it contained only a few cans of beer and a slice of moldy cheese.

Furious, she slammed the door and marched up the stairs to change and grab some money. She had to go shopping.

She was already shuddering in apprehension.

Going back outside and among strangers… Great.

She tugged on her black jeans and pulled on a thick, hooded black sweater. Before Neal, she'd never worn flashy or bright colors and after his death, she'd relegated almost all of her more colorful clothes to the back of her closet.

She didn't have much money, being unemployed at the moment. David was supporting her now, which she simply hated. She had been looking for vacancies for a long time, but with her limited experience and lack of a college degree, not to mention the impending apocalypse looming over their heads, her chances of finding something were pretty low. And David was against it anyway; she had no idea why, though, and he never told her the reason. So she had to make do with her limited savings, which was becoming increasingly annoying as David had completely forgotten about the household in the last two months.

She put a small amount of money in her back pocket and her keys in the pockets of her sweater, along with her phone. She put her hair in a ponytail, her curls bouncing with each step she took. She fixed her eyelashes with a swipe of mascara.

She tucked her gun into the waistband of her jeans; after all, one could never know what might happen. She concealed it with her sweater, making it invisible to anyone.

Fog was spreading through the gray streets, the sky covered in black clouds, an ideal time for a short walk through the city center. There were hardly any people on the streets. On weekday mornings, everyone was either at school or at work, with only a few retirees strolling the cobblestone sidewalk.

Emma stuck her hands in the front pockets of her jeans and sketched out her tasks for the day in her head, but the list was pretty short. Shopping was her only agenda today, so she began to think feverishly about what to do with the long hours ahead of her.

She arrived at the tiny little corner store without any plans. She could get everything she needed here. She hated supermarkets.

When she was done shopping, she didn't head home, but to the nearby library. Inspiration came to her somewhere between choosing which can of food to buy. She needed some good books and a quiet place among normal people. Among relatively normal people.

It wasn't five minutes before she was wandering among the bookshelves in the pleasantly heated room, browsing the selection.

No one disturbed her, and at that moment, it felt very good. She continued to hunt for books peacefully, and after a while, she returned to the cashier with a small stack. The young woman behind the counter treated her kindly like she did anyone else, and that was a really strange feeling. Strange, but heartwarming. Maybe she should go out more often and fill out some more job applications. Then she could even live a relatively normal life.

She was already halfway home when her phone started ringing. She rolled her eyes in annoyance and dropped her packed bags on one of the nearby benches. She dug out her phone and looked at the caller ID.

David.

"I'm almost home, I just went shop-"

"Where are you exactly?" he gasped into the phone.

"Near the park on the avenue. Why?" she asked suspiciously. "What is it again?"

Before answering, he repeated her location to someone, then she heard the sound of a door slamming shut. "Elves," came the curt reply. "Dark Elves."

"David, stop talking in riddles!" The icy fingers of fear zigzagged through her spine. She had already had the opportunity to meet with one Dark Elf and she had no desire to repeat the encounter.

"Over the past few months, the Vampires and Werewolves have been plotting against us. They have realized that they cannot defeat us with brute force alone. They've been lurking in the shadows for the last few months, looking for a few allies, and they've found the Dark Elves. Some are already in the city and…" he took a deep breath. "The point is, don't move from where you are now, Emma. Killian will pick you up shortly."

Before she could ask anything, David ended the call. She stared furiously at her phone for a while, then pocketed the device just as it started beeping incessantly. She groaned and fished it out of her pocket again. It seemed she would have to replace it soon, the battery was almost dead, despite it being half full mere moments ago.

But that wasn't the only problem with the device. The signal dropped dangerously, then the thing just shut off altogether. Sultry magic swept through the city. Emma looked up in confusion. Around her, several elderly people pointed to the sky and shook their heads in incomprehension.

Emma looked up as well.

There were almost entirely black clouds floating in the sky, shrouding the entire city in shadows.

So the Elves were really here.

She picked up her bags, slipped her right hand under her sweater, and reached for the handle of her gun. She wouldn't be able to do much against Elves with it, but at least it made her feel a little better. Nervously, she scanned the deserted street. She had never longed this hard for Killian's arrival. Correction, she had never longed for him, period… Until now.

When she thought about it more carefully, she'd never talked to him for more than five minutes. Truth to be told, she hadn't even had the chance. Killian just came and went. He showed up in the most unexpected places, at the most stressful times, and disappeared just as quickly.

Barely a minute later, a black Porsche Panamera stopped in front of her, leaving dark skid marks on the asphalt. She jerked back, startled, and managed to land on her ass in a not very graceful way.

The car door swung open and Killian stared at her, impatiently at first, then noticed her sprawled figure on the ground. A strange smile slid across his face, but she couldn't place why it felt so different. "It's more comfortable in here, lass," he said, patting the seat beside him.

Emma staggered to her feet with an annoyed huff. She considered staining the seat cover with her muddy jeans in retaliation, but she didn't want to be childish. She was about to dust off her clothes as best she could with a tissue when something grabbed her waist and yanked her into the car. The door slammed shut on its own, and Killian stepped on the gas.

"Was that you?" she growled when she finally managed to get herself into a more decent position. At that moment, the seatbelt flew through the air in front of her and snapped into place on the edge of her seat.

"And that too," Killian nodded grimly, focusing on the road.

"Don't you dare do that again! Or at least, warn me next time!"

She really wasn't used to someone practicing magic on her. It wasn't exactly painful or uncomfortable; in fact, the touch of Killian's magic was lukewarm and pleasantly eerie, but it still scared the shit out of her.

"Apologies…"

Finally, she raised her eyes to him, and only now realizing why his previous smile seemed so strange. His face looked completely different. There was not a drop of eyeliner on him, and his stubble was completely gone. He looked so young that way, but she had to admit, she liked his bad boy look better.

Either way, he was a pretty good-looking guy.

And she really needed to stop thinking now.

"What the hell happened?"

"To my face?" he smiled compulsively. "I had to shave because they couldn't stitch up the wound," he replied lightly, as if it was just a usual Thursday for him.

"Wound? Stitch up? But shouldn't you be supposed to heal…?"

Before she could finish her question, Killian turned his face fully toward her. There was a fresh, red scar starting at his temple and extending to the line of his lips.

"Jesus…" she gasped.

The sight of his handsome face disfigured by the scar shocked her greatly.

"Wounds inflicted by Elves don't heal on their own or fast like any other," he shrugged and looked at the road again, but she could see the bitterness in his eyes that she just couldn't place.

She sank as low as she could into the seat, peering at him timidly, then glanced out the window. The city was dark as if it was already night, and she knew for a fact that this was the work of Elves. This way, the vampires could walk around the city without fearing the sunlight.

It was comfortably warm in the car, yet she huddled as a shiver ran through her. She watched the city pass by silently and then she realized…

"Killian, we left the—" she began in alarm, but he seemed perfectly calm.

"We're not going to your house," he replied nonchalantly, not taking his eyes off the road, for which she was very grateful because they were going much faster than allowed.

"Then where?" her eyes widened in shock.

"To the Guild. It's safer there."

"And David? What about him? Where is he now?"

"Calm down, Swan, he'll be there too," he assured her, then gave her an uneasy sideways glance. "It's going to be alright."

Calm down.

It was easy to say but much harder to do. Especially for her, who could get upset over any little thing, no matter how ridiculous.

Despite the low roar of the engine, she could hear the wind outside blowing louder and louder, tearing cruelly at the scrawny branches of the weak trees on the side of the road. Lightning zigzagged through the sky, and the car shook in another gust of wind.

She shuddered in her seat and made herself as small as she could. Only now did she realize what the presence of the Elves meant, and she was scared to death, if she was honest. There had been no example of them interfering in battles on this earth for hundreds of years.

"It's not far now, love, we'll be there soon," Killian encouraged, and she looked up at him again, expressionless, feeling unspeakably miserable.

His face was practically split in two, and he was the one comforting her? She scoffed at herself.

"Okay." She couldn't say anything else, just slumped in her seat and crossed her arms in front of her chest. A shiver ran down her spine, causing goosebumps on her skin, and she felt like her head was being held in a vice. She knew what that meant. She had just enough time to cling to the edge of the seat, and the vision came unstoppable…

#cs ff #captain swan #cssns21 #cssns 2021 #cs fic #emma swan #killian jones #captain hook #ouat #once upon a time #ouat ff #killian x emma #captain swan supernatural #my fic #thejollyroger writer #TWPYR #captain swan ff #captain swan fic #cs fanfic