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ironspiderfics · 10 months

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hush little spider

by @iron--spider for @whimsicalethnographies

Tony dreams of clouds.

No, a bubble. A bubble that’s wispy and purple and green and he’s inside it and he’s floating and it’s hard to breathe. The world outside warps and they can’t hear him. He’s high above New York and he’s a spectacle but they still can’t hear him.

He opens his eyes just the slightest bit and sees Pepper already dressed. He groans, and she laughs in that breathy way that she does and she leans over and kisses his cheek.

“No,” he grunts, still half-asleep. “Nope. Canceled. It’s canceled, I’m canceling it.”

“I’ll be back tonight,” she laughs, kissing the corner of his mouth this time.

“Pete’s still here, right?” Tony asks, struggling to keep one eye open.

“Yeah,” Pepper says, stuffing a few things in her purse. “He and Ned—actually fell asleep in the lower lab, something I’ve never seen anybody else do—ever—how strange…”

Tony snorts, closing his eye again. “Only the occasional…similarity…”

He hears her zipping her purse, and she kisses his cheek again. “Sleep in—sleep in for once in your life.”

He turns his face into the pillow. “We’ll see,” he says, not anticipating sleeping any later than seven or eight, because the only times he does that are when he’s nearly been killed or some shit. Maimed beyond repair. Worrying about Rhodey so much he passes out, recovering from watching Spider-Man nearly die, things like that—

But sleep is already dragging him back down again, as if it wants him, as if it’ll let him stay a while.

And he dreams again. Dreams about almost losing his left arm, and his dream morphs reality and his false worries together like bad patchwork—arm, no arm, iron arm, half an arm, iron man, no arm, arm—he sees himself in bed he sees himself hobbling around he sees the line of suitors outside his door, all the people he knew loved him, all the ones he thought didn’t, everyone ready to start over with no qualms no teams no past mistakes, and he can hear his own voice strung up like Christmas lights saying it wasn’t just me. It wasn’t. But they’re here for him. They’re here to thank him. Here to comfort him.

His dream is a flipbook of that time—things that happened twisted with things that didn’t, the kid saying he wasn’t going on that Europe trip and Tony’s secret relief, Pepper scaling the side of the newly acquired tower, which was re-acquired but definitely not scaled, at least not by her—Happy starting to date May, yes, and Tony sees an array of dates he never saw but some he heard about, and the twenty-two or so pizzas feels fake, too.

His dreams are wacky sometimes—most of the time—and this feels like a play, almost, and he’s the only audience member, and he feels like something shuts down—

And there is a stage. Shakespeare in the Park, and he’s standing in the rows of hard chairs and Peter is on the stage alone.

“Pete?” Tony calls to him. “You okay?”

“I’m playing Hamlet,” Peter says, and he’s wearing a top hat.

“You’re not supposed to say that in a theater,” Tony says, even though they’re not really in a theater, because he can see the sky. The stars. There’s grass under his feet.

Is that right? Hamlet? Not allowed? Is it him that’s not allowed? Dreams are wrong. Dreams are facts that aren’t facts.

He hears something shutting down. The wind stops and all the trees go still.

“Did you hear that?” Tony asks, glancing up at Peter again.

Like a computer shutting down the wrong way. He heard it plenty of times in college, in his many impatient moments.

It sounds like it’s everywhere. In his ear canals.

“Pete, did you hear that?” Tony asks, starting to walk down the middle aisle.

Peter looks at him, and shakes his head, and he’s standing under a spotlight now. “I don’t hear anything,” he whispers.

Tony startles awake, and the air feels stale.

He can tell the power’s off immediately.

He says Friday.

Except he doesn’t say it.

He looks around, eyes narrowed. The room is dark, the blackout shades still enabled, and he says Friday again, except he doesn’t say it.

He sits up in bed, his heart hammering. He rubs his throat a little bit, and tries to clear it. He can hear that, and he does it a few more times, and then he says Friday, but still, he doesn’t say it, the word doesn’t come out, his mouth moves and he shakes his head and tries to enunciate but still, no word, just silence.

He sucks in a couple frustrated breaths, and he pulls himself over to the bedside table and picks up his phone.

It’s dead. He tries to turn it on again and it’s dead and it’s fucking plugged in, and still, dead, and he unplugs it and tries to turn it back on, two, three, four times, and then he’s tossing it onto the bed and leaning back against the pillows.

He stares off. He feels insane. Maybe he’s still dreaming.

He pinches his arm and puts that to bed, and his heart starts speeding up again.

He closes his eyes. Tries to calm down.

He says Friday.

But he doesn’t. He doesn’t say it.

His voice is gone.

He can’t fucking talk, the power is out and his phone is dead.

And he’s not sick—he wasn’t screaming, there’s no reason for it—

This is an attack. It has to be.

He runs his hands over his face, heaving a sigh, trying to—catalog things in his head.

Why did this happen who did it is he still here what’s been compromised how did he do it is he more than one person and if so how many can they turn on backup power without their voices can they get out of the building easily or are they trapped who is inside right now who stays here overnight who was still working who could have—

Shit. He says it, but he doesn’t say it, because…because.

How the fuck—

Peter is here. Peter and Ned.

Tony wants to curse and shout but he gets out of bed and moves for the closet.

Peter wakes up to someone hitting him. He narrows his eyes and sits up from his very uncomfortable sleeping position on the workbench, and Ned is hitting him and hitting him and hitting him.

It’s dark in here, he can barely see, what is going on—

Peter says hey but the word doesn’t come out, and Ned hits him and hits him and hits him again. He’s not hitting him with any real force but he’s like a very panicked butterfly, and Peter tries to say his name but that word doesn’t come out either.

He clears his throat but before he knows it, Ned is grabbing his chin.

Ned’s mouth is moving very fast, but he’s not making any words either. He points to his own mouth and then Peter’s mouth and he shakes his head. He lets go of Peter and walks over to the desk and picks up both of their phones, holds them up and wiggles them around, and puts them down again. He points to the computers and the workstations and makes an X with his arms, and Peter stares at him.

Peter tries to say Ned but nothing comes out of his mouth but air.

Ned glares at him. He points up at the ceiling and he covers his eyes, and he does that three times. It feels like a really weird game of charades.

No lights. No power. Phones off too…

A little bit of fear creeps into Peter’s gut, and he sucks in a breath. He tries to say hello hello, but it doesn’t work, and Ned throws his arms up and they hit his legs.

Peter does it back at him.

They stare at each other in the darkness.

This is bad. Tony is here somewhere and Pepper could be too—and a bunch of other people probably—

He needs Tony’s help, Tony can figure this out, they can figure it out together—whatever it is—

Peter swallows hard and puts his fingers together to mime writing with a pencil. Ned just stares at him, and Peter widens his eyes and does it again, with more dramatic flair, and he starts searching through the desk. He doesn’t know the last time he’s seen Tony actually write anything down.

Ned is still just standing there and staring at him, so Peter huffs a sigh and slams his arms down on the desk and makes a very exaggerated scene of pretending to write, and Ned sort of goes oh without saying it, because—they can’t, for some reason—and he starts to help him look through the drawers.

Ned nudges Peter with his elbow. Peter nudges him back, and they’re sort of pushing back and forth for a second like they’re five years old at the watercolor table and not two adults in a situation.

Who the hell could do this? What is going on? How could someone steal their voices?

They look for five minutes before they find a stash of paper and a few pencils in the desk by the wall. The dark is starting to hurt Peter’s eyes, and Ned snatches a piece of paper out of his hand, and Peter scoffs and throws the second pencil at him.

They both hurriedly write out their messages.

Peter holds his up.

WE NEED TO FIND TONY AND WE NEED TO SEE IF WE CAN GET OUT OF THE BUILDING AND WE NEED TO SEE IF THE TECHNOLOGY SITUATION IS AFFECTING MY SUIT THE ONLY ONE I HAVE HERE IS THE NEW SCARLET SPIDER ONE TONY AND I WERE WORKING ON AND IT’S IN THE LAB ON LEVEL 14 SO WE ALSO HAVE TO CHECK OUT THE ELEVATOR SITUATION AND SEE WHAT IS GOING ON FROM THERE AND THE LIVING QUARTERS ARE ON LEVEL 42 SO WE ARE REALLY IN A SITUATION AND WE HAVE TO BE CAREFUL WHEN WE LEAVE THIS ROOM BECAUSE ANYTHING COULD BE OUT THERE SO JUST STAY BEHIND ME

Ned stands there and squints and reads the whole thing. He steps a little closer and finally finishes, nodding, and he swallows hard.

He holds up his paper.

so this could be aliens

Tony doesn’t like not being able to use his voice. His voice is his greatest weapon, and one he uses often, in every situation, whether he’s quipping at a giant purple asshole trying to bring the world to its knees or bargaining with Pepper about the need for cookie dough ice cream.

And he keeps forgetting he can’t use it, and he keeps almost yelling out as he surveys the halls—empty, mostly, up here, because he guesses the kid stayed down in the lab all night with his buddy. Rhodey is supposed to show up tomorrow, and Happy might have been out of the tower already before whatever the hell happened…happened…and Natasha is in Chicago with Clint and his family and Thor is still off-world and Steve is in Brooklyn for that anniversary thing—Barnes and Wilson might be here, somewhere, maybe. They’re here sometimes. Tony really needs to get better at keeping up with who’s here and when. He knows Friday knows, but Friday is out of commission, and whatever the hell is going on with his voice is keeping him from resetting her and the system.

Purposeful. Smart. Too smart.

He arrives at the main stairwell and sees—it’s caved the fuck in. Like a controlled explosion, and he can’t go down or up, and he peers over what’s left of the railing and sees a few of the other stairwells look the same.

Who the hell is blowing shit up in here and he didn’t hear it? How would he not hear that?

He wants to say shit and he tries but he fucking can’t and he rushes over and hits the wall next to the elevator instead. Not even hard enough to make a dent, and he sighs and presses the button a bunch of times. He knows it won’t work, but he does it anyway.

And then the whole building groans, like the unmistakable sound of a wounded Titanic slowly sinking, and Tony stands still, eyes cutting around manically.

He has a horrible thought that they’re trying to bring the building down, whoever the hell ‘they’ are, but why all the theatrics? Why the shit with his voice? Is that happening to everyone? Is that happening to Peter?

Tony sets his jaw, the thought of the kid bringing things back into focus, and the metallic moaning and groaning stops.

No matter what’s going on, there are innocent people in this building, and Peter is one of them. Tony has to start making his way down, and maybe he can find a suit he can activate manually. Maybe this tech crash didn’t affect his suits, but he won’t know until he finds one, and they’re down where Peter is. Slim chance, but it’s something to shoot for.

He feels like he can hear footsteps. On this floor, on others, and it’s underlined in the silence, in the lack of screaming for help.

He’s gotta get to the back stairwell and see if that’s intact, and he swallows hard and heads that way. He weaves around, and he feels like he’s thinking more now that he can’t talk out loud—

—gotta find the kid gotta see if we can get out cover the exits try to make contact with anybody else on the team might be here gotta find the manual overrides that don’t require voice activation and that’s probably zero considering my paranoia and there has to be backdoors for that to get around it and what if we’re stuck in the building because we probably are because who would go to all this trouble just to let us walk right out and thank God Pepper isn’t here that’s one less thing to worry about and if only Rhodey was a day early even though I don’t want him trapped in here either and Jesus who else is in here, it’s a weekend, who’d be staying, Jesus, gotta get to Peter, and Ned, Ned’s here too, can’t talk, can’t talk, it must be everyone—

—and this atrium is filled with sunshine from the long line of windows, and Tony jogs over there to see if—to see if—

He tries to say that’s not a cloud out loud but, of course, he can’t, just tiny newborn kitten mouth movements, and he huffs at himself and rolls his eyes and he’s seconds from a tantrum that he hope they’ll watch and laugh at on the cameras three days from now oh wait the cameras are fucking off—

—but either goddamn way the tower is surrounded by something greenish purplish nebulous…like they’re inside someone’s chemistry experiment—

This time, when he tries to say shit he tries to say it with such force that he gets out the rush of breath that would start the ‘s’, if not anything else.

So he races towards the back stairwell hissing and shushing over and over to himself like an angry librarian or an oncoming train.

Ned runs out of paper.

And Peter doesn’t know how the hell he did that—well he sort of does, because he’s been wasting the paper on dumb stuff, like worrying about aliens, and sure, that’s a completely normal worry, but how many times is he gonna write it? And then waste the paper? He’s gone back to pick up paper he’s dramatically thrown to the ground like eight times. As if they’re walking around in some post-apocalyptic wasteland and not Stark Tower.

Ned is tugging on Peter’s arm for more paper, and Peter turns around and holds up one finger at him. Ned shrugs at him and Peter feels like they’re not making any progress at all—they saw the screwed up staircases, and they could maybe get around those, maybe, and they saw the weird shit outside the windows which makes him think this is some magic spell or something—well, obviously, you can’t just steal people’s voices with a special remote—but he’s gotta see—he’s gotta see if he can get outside.

And he’s having crazy ideas about how to—do that.

If they just would have figured out how to teleport like in Star Trek then they wouldn’t be having this problem at all.

Peter sighs and then he sees one of the classrooms Tony carved out for team meetings, once he re-acquired the tower, and he has an idea. He points at the classroom to Ned, ignores his immediate defensiveness, and he heads over there.

Ned grabs onto his shoulder, and maybe Ned is missing the sound of his voice. Peter has to remember that Ned isn’t exactly used to situations like this, and he pats his hand, but then he turns around and indicates that he’s gonna knock down the door.

It only takes one hit, and the door slams to the ground, and Peter sees the whiteboard on the wall that he remembers Tony writing on, and Sam snickering at.

And within a minute or two, he’s ripped off two relatively equal squares of it, and found two dry erase markers. And when Ned catches on, they make two paperclip necklaces and hang the boards around their necks.

Ned immediately writes on his.

SO SMART PETER

Peter draws a big smiley face with a bunch of teeth. And then he writes.

THANKS. OKAY NOW I GOTTA TRY TO JUMP OUT THE WINDOW.

Ned’s face falls.

The building makes more noises, and Tony tries to determine if he thinks it’s actually moving. He hears banging, more footsteps, and he chalks that up to other people trying to get around, and he can’t count how many times he tries to yell out like a moron only to be met with more silence. He’s running down the stairs as fast as he can, his thoughts almost painting themselves outside of his head, in big bold read letters hanging in the air—

And he’s breathing hard and he feels like he’s hearing things by floor 35 and is he hearing—laughter? Who’s laughing? He can’t laugh, so he’s assuming—who would be laughing in this scenario except the person who caused it?

Here somewhere, in the shadows, lying in wait—

And the laughter seems to echo, and it sounds like it’s getting closer, and more intense, like this person laughing is everywhere and right next to him all at once—

And normally Tony would be shouting obscenities and trying to pump himself up with long soliloquies but he can’t do that, he can only breathe, and panic, and he thinks about the kid somewhere in this building, voiceless and in danger—

And he nearly trips on the landing to floor 34 and someone catches him—

And he pushes this person away and his heart is in his throat, beating and beating and choking him, and he doesn’t have a suit and he immediately drops into a defensive stance, one fist cocked by his face and the other outstretched, and Rhodey smacks his hand down and huffs at him.

Tony stares. So many words are on the tip of his tongue, held back by brick walls, and Rhodey huffs again and gives him a little smile and Tony grabs onto his arms. Rhodey grabs Tony’s too, and for a second they’re—jumping? Up and down? And they realize they’re doing it immediately and they stop and then Tony pulls him into a hug.

He rolls his eyes at himself, his face burning, but hey, Rhodey was doing it too.

They pull back, and Tony pats Rhodey’s shoulders. He points at him, throws his hands up, as if asking when the hell did you get here. Rhodey narrows his eyes at him, waves his hands through the air, backwards, as if trying to convey—who the fuck knows.

Tony still can’t believe he’s in front of him, and they need to get somewhere with more light. He points down, tries to tug him forward, but Rhodey shakes his head. He gets close to Tony’s face, and mouths words. If it was anybody else, Tony wouldn’t be able to interpret it, but it’s him, so he can.

CANNOT GET OUT OF BUILDING. TRAPPED.

Tony nods—he figured as much—but he tugs on Rhodey’s wrist anyway. He mimes shooting a web, does an exaggerated version of Peter’s swinging, and points down again. Realization dawns on Rhodey’s face, and he points down with raised eyebrows, and Tony points down too. Rhodey nods at him, and he starts down the stairs, linking his arm through Tony’s.

The silence doesn’t feel as heavy, with him here.

And they try to pass little messages back and forth, through hand gestures and lip reading, and Tony finds out that Rhodey put a couple people from payroll in a safe room on the 20th floor, barring the door that Friday would normally seal. The front and back exits are completely blocked, and one guy from marketing tried to get through and was unceremoniously bounced back inside by some unknown force. Rhodey’s been hearing the laughter too, and the building groaning, and he’s seen the shit outside the window. He thinks someone is here, waiting to pounce, or maybe more than one someone—

And they walk down to the 18th floor landing and Peter’s body is splayed out against the door in a mess of blood.

Ned underlines his NO. He makes it bolder. He shoves it in Peter’s face.

Peter sighs. He holds up his message again.

IF I CAN GET OUT I CAN CRAWL UP THE BUILDING—

Ned rubs away Peter’s message with his hand. Peter sighs, and Ned writes underneath his NO.

YOU KNOW THERE’S PURPLEGREEN JELLY OUT THERE OR WHATEVER THAT IS AND IT CAN EAT YOU AND ABSORB YOU MAYBE. AND IF YOU DO GET OUT UR LEAVING ME HERE.

Peter sighs again. He misses his voice, he misses both of their voices. He takes a few steps away from Ned, braces his board on the wall, and writes what he hopes is the kicker.

If I get out, I can climb down, and I will probably get my voice back, and I can connect to Friday from one of the remote facilities down the street, and I can turn her back on in the building, and then Tony will take over and save everybody and everything and find the bad guy inside. And I’ll come back and help!!!!!!

Ned reads it. He squints at it, and he does that every time, and it makes Peter think he needs glasses. He hasn’t ever watched him read this much.

Ned sighs.

Ned sighs pointedly.

Peter nods at him and hopes that’s the end of it, and they already discussed where he would go if this worked the way it’s supposed to, and it probably will, so he sighs again and hangs Peter’s board around his neck too, and grips both markers in his hands.

Peter hugs him, fast and tight, trying to soothe him and give himself some sort of confidence too, and he knows he can’t waffle around for too long—so he doesn’t make eye contact with Ned again, and he rushes towards the window, heading for it with his right shoulder.

And he bursts through—and he’s blasted through plenty of windows in his life so he’s not exactly surprised he’s able to do it—and there’s glass everywhere and he shields his face and maybe he should have thought this through a little more but the tower is hard to traverse right now to find shit, and he barely has any time to even breathe the outside air or perceive the weird gelatinous cloud before some otherworldly force is launching him back inside.

It’s like he’s in the palm of someone’s giant hand, and he can feel his voice on the other side of that purplegreen cloud, he can feel it, and it dies away as soon as he collapses back onto the floor at Ned’s feet.

Ned’s forgotten he can’t talk. His mouth is moving rapid fire, and he bends down in front of Peter and keeps not talking and Peter just stares at him, flabbergasted. Peter has cuts from the glass all over him, and the wind is whipping around through the newly created hole, and he feels like he can hear the purplegreen cloud. Wobbling and squishing.

He covers Ned’s mouth with his hand, still staring out the window, and it seems to jolt Ned back into their current situation. He quickly takes off Peter’s board, puts it back around Peter’s neck, and he shoves the marker into Peter’s hand. Then he takes off his own and starts writing on it.

OKAY it says, in shaky hand NOW I’M FOR SURE ABOUT ALIENS

Tony feels like he’s doused in ice, frozen in his tracks, unable to breathe. And he can’t talk and if he could talk he doesn’t know if he would be screaming and shouting or just like this—aghast, horrified, and he nearly trips down the stairs trying to get to him—

Even in the darkness Peter doesn’t look like he’s breathing—

And Tony drops to his knees beside him and—

He’s gone.

Peter disappears.

Tony stares at the empty spot, and the silence is so loud that he can hear his heart stuttering and speeding up, and he runs his hands over the spot where he was the spot the empty spot what the fuck what the fuck—

He hears Rhodey coming down behind him, and he hauls him to his feet. Tony’s heart is still beating a mile a minute and his eyes are starry but not in the good way, and he wants to say something he wants to say something, and that’s when he hears the laughter.

OH TONY a voice says, a fucking voice, and it’s everywhere and nowhere all at once, and Tony has a hard time not falling back against Rhodey completely. HOW WOULD YOU FEEL IF THAT ACTUALLY HAPPENED? WELL THAT’S WHAT I’M HERE FOR, TONY. MAYBE IT WILL. MAYBE I’LL TAKE RHODEY TOO. AND ALL YOUR LITTLE FRIENDS IN THE BUILDING. AND YOU WON’T BE ABLE TO HELP AND YOU WON’T BE ABLE TO SCREAM OR CRY OR ANYTHING. AND THEN I’LL KILL YOU, TONY. YOU’LL BE LAST.

He recognizes the voice, and it laughs and laughs and the laughter fades and seems to dissipate in the air.

It sounds familiar—

But he feels like he can’t fucking breathe anymore. And they haven’t found Peter yet, and Tony keeps imagining him dead, and it feels more dire than it did—

And he shoves forward, doesn’t look at the place where Peter’s body was, or whatever the hell—

And Rhodey follows him out of the stairwell. Tony stumbles into the main atrium of whatever the hell floor they’re on now—and it looks like Stark offices from the brief look he gets before he bends over and braces his hands on his knees.

He tries to breathe. Rhodey rubs his back and sighs a couple times and this is feeling more and more sadistic. Who the hell is this guy? How did he do this? Tony can still hear the laughter, even though it’s silent again.

Silent, until he hears a banging.

It’s not the typical bad noises he’s been hearing since this shit started, and he straightens up and looks at Rhodey. Rhodey nods, and he hears it too, and he motions towards—the railing, where they can look down and see the other floors. It’s like that, from the 38th floor down to the main lobby, and he rushes over, Rhodey on his heels.

He tries to hold himself back, because it could be this asshole tricking him—but the banging keeps on and gets more manic.

They very slowly peer over the edge of the railing.

Peter and Ned leap into the air when they see them.

And they’re wearing tinfoil hats on their heads.

Peter can’t believe it. He can’t believe it’s him. He just so happened to be looking up right at the right time to see Tony run out and he thought he might be going crazy but then he saw Rhodey and it’s them it’s actually them, and he and Ned jump and clap and Tony looks at him like he’s never seen him before. Peter’s hands hurt from banging on the wall to get their attention, but it’s worth it.

The building starts to make those noises again, moaning and groaning like it’s structurally unsound, but Peter doesn’t trust it, because if it was actually collapsing, or moving somewhere at its base, he’d be able to feel it.

Peter points at Tony. Left stairwell? They were going up the right one. That’s so crazy. He forgets he’s got a board around his neck.

Tony holds up both hands as if to say STOP STAY THERE and then he’s out of sight before Peter can respond. With…whatever response he would have had. Rhodey races after him, and Peter blows out a breath and turns around and looks at Ned.

He grimaces. He saw Tony and instantly forgot about the hats they made a couple minutes ago when they found the tin foil. Ned is so concerned with aliens and now they look stupid.

Peter snatches it off of Ned’s head, and then his own, and Ned’s mouth falls open in betrayal. Peter puts them on the ground and quickly writes out a message on his board.

LISTEN I’VE DEALT WITH ALIENS BEFORE AND THOSE WEREN’T GONNA WORK ANYWAY.

Ned stares at him, and then calmly claws away part of his message.

Peter sighs, and then the stairwell door slams open.

He turns around and Tony is striding towards him.

And Peter always wants to feel capable and he’s pretty confident he is, but he always feels safer when Tony’s around. Like he can…really figure things out. Like he won’t get hurt, because Tony won’t let him.

And Tony wraps him up in a hug that Peter melts into, closing his eyes. Tony holds him tight, squeezing his shoulder, and Peter just lives in it for a second. Tony pulls back but keeps a hold of him, and Peter sees Rhodey and Ned sharing a little moment behind him.

Tony pats the board around Peter’s neck, nodding. Peter nods too, and he takes out the marker to write something, but Tony gently takes it out of his hand. He writes on the board, and turns it around for Peter to see. His letters are blocky and messy, and so very him.

You alright?

Peter nods at him. He points at him, raises his eyebrows, and Tony nods too. Tony immediately clocks the few cuts Peter sustained in the window incident, and he thumbs over one on Peter’s forehead.

Peter shrugs.

IT’S FINE he writes. I TRIED TO JUMP OUT THE WINDOW BUT IT BLEW ME BACK.

Tony narrows his eyes. He keeps one hand on Peter’s shoulder and knocks Rhodey on the arm, and they have a couple seconds of silent facial communication the likes of which Peter has never seen. Ned knocks Peter on the arm, and looks at him like he wants to replicate it, but he just wags his eyebrows at Peter and Peter has no clue what he wants to say.

Peter looks across the atrium at the weird cloud through the window. He wonders how far it goes up in the sky—it can’t be too far, it’s probably just…a little taller than the building. Maybe.

Would it cover it completely, like a bubble? Or is there an opening at the top, the roof exposed to open air because nobody’s up there? Is it worth checking out?

Anything is. Anything that might end this.

Now he’s thinking…

Ned sighs at Peter, and Peter pats Tony’s shoulder. Tony turns towards him again, and somehow he feels even more fatherly in this moment, dipping his head down to give Peter his undivided attention, stepping a little closer and gripping his shoulder. He was clearly worried, and Peter never really wants to worry him, but it feels…nice. Something crazy and insane is happening and Tony Stark is worried about him. He should be used to it by now, after all these years and everything they’ve been through, but he’s not. He doesn’t know if he ever will be.

Peter tries to focus, starts to write.

Is it even worth it to try and get our suits? I know yours wouldn’t work, because they’re all tech, but would mine? Probably not, right? We need to get Ned to a safe place because I have an idea

And the tail of his ‘a’ is drawn out when the four of them are swept into the air.

And Tony doesn’t realize it’s a fucking mini tornado inside the tower until he’s inside it, and it’s huge and big and picking up everything all around them too—chairs and computers and long tables, and one of the tables knocks Rhodey and Ned completely away from them. They’re spinning and being thrown around and Tony can barely see—like there’s suddenly Saharan dust in here—and he grabs onto Peter’s ankle before he can be tossed away from him too.

And for a minute it’s loud rushing, flying through the air, and what feels like a fucking phone hits him in the head and he sees stars, and he lets go of Peter—

And he wants to yell out but he can’t, he’s still silent, and he has no idea what the fuck is going on here or who is doing this or how, and he can see other people and faces and bodies and they’re all contorted in the same silent scream, and before he knows it Peter is flying at him and they’re both hitting a pillar—

And Peter is smashed against him and Tony can tell he’s sticking to the wall, making it so they don’t get thrown around anymore—

And he’s gritting his teeth and the forces of the fucking tornado are so strong that he can barely lift his arm, but he does, trying to shield the kid’s head—

And then it all falls, abruptly, everything drops everywhere in loud crashes and bangs, and he can hear windows breaking and other shit breaking but still no voices.

And then there’s the laughter.

Tony grabs onto Peter and Peter grabs him, hauling him to his feet. Tony feels dizzy and off-kilter from how many blows he took, and the laughter is moving in and out like a warped Led Zeppelin song, and it almost hurts his ears.

TONY TONY TONY the same voice as earlier says, as Peter grabs onto Tony’s arm and hauls him over to the railing. I’M COMING FOR YOU TONY AND EVERYONE YOU LOVE—YOU SHOULD BE HAPPY LITTLE WIFEY ISN’T HERE, BUT WE’VE GOT THE BEST FRIEND AND THE LOVE CHILD, HUH? WHICH ONE FIRST? OR SHOULD IT BE YOU? THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU STEAL SOMEONE’S WORK, TONY…SOMEONE LIKE ME, I’M NOT GOING TO BE…RATIONAL…

Peter is breathing hard, panicking, looking all around. They’re a lot higher up now, and Tony can see other people on the lower levels—he looks up, and it seems like there’s only one level above them, so they should be on the 37th floor now. Jesus.

The laughter starts again, and it gets so loud that it’s almost ear-piercing, and Tony holds one of his ears and one of Peter’s, out of instinct, he doesn’t know—

And then he sees Ned, a few floors down, at the edge of the railing. He pats Peter’s arm, and points, and Peter nearly wilts in relief. And before Tony can start worrying about Rhodey, he sees him rush over to the edge, two floors above Ned.

They all see each other at the same time.

And it takes a few minutes of rabid communication, wincing, and hand gestures, because neither Ned or Peter have their boards anymore, but they’re able to get Rhodey to start heading to where Ned is. And Tony is able to convey—something, to the other people who see him. Everyone is panicking, but they’re somehow soothed by his presence—something he’ll never understand, but something he takes very seriously.

Jesus, he has to help them—

The laughter eventually tapers off and dies out, and the sinking ship sounds resume. Tony and Peter back up from the ledge, holding onto each other, and Peter pats Tony’s shoulder to get his attention. Tony is distracted by the new cuts, and the blood in the kid’s hair, and he hates himself for getting Peter into situations like this. If he didn’t know him, he wouldn’t be here right now, he wouldn’t have to deal with this.

But a world in which he doesn’t know him…well, Tony doesn’t want that either.

Peter points up. He raises his arm, and keeps pointing, as if to indicate all the way up.

Tony mouths roof and Peter nods at him. He obviously has an idea, they were starting to discuss it before the bullshit, and he knows the suits they have here are way below them, and most likely out of the picture now. Probably wouldn’t have activated, anyway. No voices, no tech. Tony nods at him again, trying to imagine what he might be thinking, and they start to head up there.

And Tony thinks about that voice. That laugh. The things he said.

Peter worries.

He worries that his plan is stupid, and it’s barely even a plan, it’s barely even an idea, and it might not even pan out if the purplegreen cloud is covering the whole building. They’re too far away from where their suits are now, and they could try to go down there but the suits probably wouldn’t work anyways. Tony’s is entirely tech, and Peter’s is voice activated. Everything is voice activated.

They grab a couple things from the living quarters when they get there—Peter asks for a Friday com, for his haphazard plan, and he nearly jumps for joy when they find a pair of webshooters in his bedroom that he’d forgotten were there. He practices, and they work, because they’re tech but they aren’t tech tech. But they don’t have a lot of webs loaded in, and he can’t find more and isn’t in the right place to make them, so he has to be careful. But the webshooters will make it a lot easier than trying to climb up the antenna and jump over the cloud without anything to help him.

And they get some more paper and pens.

I think this guy is this jerk I fired a couple years back Tony writes, after they get some water and grapes from the fridge. He was insane then and he’s clearly insane now. But more insane. End of the world stealing voices and trying to murder people insane. Earlier he showed me a projection of your dead body and he could do shit like that back then, the tornado, the voice throwing…I’m not even sure if the main stairwell is actually destroyed, he could be faking that with projection too. Everything but the magical aspects feel like him. But we’ve got a lot of magical assholes on our tails and he could be hooking up with them to get at me.

Peter reads it, drinking his water, and he nods, sighing once he’s drained the bottle. He leans over and writes underneath it, his letters small and close together so he has lots of space.

MY PLAN IS TO GO UP TO THE ROOF AND HOPEFULLY THE CLOUD DOESN’T COMPLETELY COVER THE BUILDING AND I CAN LAUNCH MYSELF OUTSIDE IT AND THEN SPEAK AGAIN AND CONNECT TO FRIDAY WITH THE COM AND RESET THE BUILDING AND SET OFF SAFEGUARDS TO START FIGHTING BACK. AND IF THE CLOUD COVERS THE BUILDING THEN I HAVE NO PLAN BUT I HAVE A FEELING IT DOESN’T BECAUSE HE CLEARLY THINKS HE’S GOTTEN RID OF EVERYTHING THAT COULD GET US UP THAT HIGH YOU KNOW?

He’s a little worried, watching Tony read, and worry feels where he lives right now. And Tony does straighten up when he’s done, giving Peter a look. There’s layers behind it—fear, uncertainty, worry, wanting to help, but he nods anyway, even though he looks like he doesn’t want to.

Peter smiles, softly, trying to be reassuring, but probably coming off as childish and stupid, and he sighs and leans over and writes again.

HE USED MY DEAD BODY TO UPSET YOU?

Tony reads, and makes a face at him, widening his eyes and grimacing. He nods, holding that expression. Peter mimes saying awww, and Tony scoffs, gently pushing his face away from him. Peter laughs, and draws a heart on the paper, and Tony snatches the pen and crosses the heart out with an X. But Peter is grinning anyway.

It feels good, not to…feel bad. If only for a moment.

And they head back up after that, with pens and paper and water bottles, Peter’s webshooters on his wrists. They have to keep changing stairwells, because of obstacles and shit this guy’s put in their way, and a few of them are solid and real, and a few of them are illusions, projected to confuse and reroute them. Peter decides to web up the elevator shaft for a while, holding a very irritated Tony along with him.

They climb out at floor 90, Peter peeling the doors open. He helps Tony to his feet, and the doors slam closed behind them once they’re all the way out.

Tony blows out a breath, and he claps Peter on the shoulder and bends his head down a bit to look at him. That look is asking if he’s alright, and Peter nods, and Tony nods back at him, already knowing he wants to ask too.

Peter gestures backwards, angrily, at everything, and he puts his hands together as if he’s choking someone and shaking them back and forth.

Tony points at his own chest, raising his eyebrows.

Peter brushes him off, mouths no, and he points behind them, meaning THAT GUY, and he gestures all over and throws punches and pretends to knee someone in the stomach and pretends like he’s choking and he rolls his eyes back.

Tony stares at him for a second, and then he grins, shaking his head. He throws up his middle finger, shakes his fist in the air, and they keep silently threatening as they walk.

They head for the stairs and Peter worries. He worries about Ned, about his half-baked plan, about his non-existent back-up plan, about May and MJ hearing about this and seeing what’s going on, and he’s worrying as they step into the stairwell to climb the final three flights for roof access.

He’s worrying when he gets shot in the shoulder.

And Tony drags Peter to his feet and they’re running, they’re running up the stairs, and he doesn’t feel like he’s moved this much outside of the suit since the fucking Mandarin situation—and the sound of whatever invisible force it is following them and shooting at them is undeniably a fucking drone. Probably two, from the buzzing.

Very clearly a Beck production—

And Tony holds onto Peter, and they keep running, and they zig-zag as much as they can in the narrow stairwell, and Tony hears ricochets and blasts inches from his head and he gets one in the back of the leg that takes him down—

And Peter pulls him up again, and Tony sees him turn around and fire a bunch of webs, and one of the drones, still invisible, slams against the wall, trapped.

They keep running, and there’s one left, and they can’t fucking see it, and they keep running and Tony is fucking hopping, and before he knows it Peter is hauling him behind a pillar.

And the shooting stops.

And Tony can still hear the drone, can hear it buzzing and ticking and searching for them, and Peter has his eyes closed.

And before Tony knows it, Peter is leaping out from behind the pillar, and Tony sees him grasp his hands together and slam down into open air. But it isn’t open air, and the drone becomes visible and crashes down to the ground, spitting out sparks.

Tony breathes hard through his mouth, and Peter stumbles back towards him, and grabs his arm again. Tony nods at him, trying to convey a good job, and Peter blows out a breath and shakes his head.

And they stagger up one more set of stairs and bust out onto the roof.

And—

The kid was right.

They can see it right away.

The purplegreen cloud is surrounding the building, and it goes up to just under the antenna. And that’s where it stops. Clear blue sky.

An opening.

It looks easy. He’s seen Peter do harder things. But Tony stands there, frozen, staring up at where the cloud ends while Peter drags over one of the random cement blocks up here and braces it against the door.

Tony tries to say his name, but he can’t. He still can’t, despite how close they are to the edge of the thing.

And Peter puts the com in his ear, ready to connect to Friday when he can.

And why the hell didn’t they take their phones with them maybe Tony could have hacked into them if he put his mind to it and why wasn’t he thinking properly and forming his own plans and why didn’t he just go back down and get a suit and make it like he made it in Afghanistan they could have withstood more of Beck’s bullshit if he just put his goddamn mind to it and—

Peter blows out a breath, and takes a step forward, shaking his arms like he’s trying to get loose. Then he aims one webshooter—

Tony grabs Peter’s arm, his heart in his throat. He feels insane, was the kid about to just go, just do it—

Peter turns around and looks at him. And they can’t say anything, even though there’s a million things to say, and Tony can never stand letting him go if he can’t go with him, because what if it goes wrong, what if he doesn’t come back—

And they’ve been trying to convey a million things without words since this started, and he just looks at Peter and tries to say it all with his face—I restarted the world because I couldn’t live in it without you so you better come back—and he cocks his head a little bit and really looks at him and his eyes hurt—

And Peter rushes into a hug, a big one, and Tony clings to him and cradles the back of his head and hates this whole goddamn thing. Then Peter pulls back, nodding at him, tears shining in his eyes—

And he steps forward, away from him, and shoots a web before Tony can say anything else—

“Well, look at him go,” a voice says.

That voice.

Tony spins around, and the man he knew was behind this is standing there. Right fucking behind him, Quentin Beck, in some goddamn jumpsuit, grinning from ear to ear.

He punches Tony square in the face, a move that Tony would have parried or dodged if he hadn’t been so fucking shocked to see the guy standing there when nobody was there a moment before, and Beck hits him again off the shock of the first hit—

And the pain bursts—

“God, you were always slow, Tony,” Beck says, and Tony is able to dodge the next one he throws, which makes the asshole laugh. “Oh, there he is! There he is! A little fight left in him—”

And Peter swings, latching onto the antenna and launching himself over the tippy top of the cloud, and the heel of his foot bumps it and that buoys him further up into the air, and he shoots another web and swings around outside of the spell, away from the building—

And he can feel his voice in his throat, building up, ready to be used again—

“FRIDAY!” he screams, shrill and childlike, but he doesn’t care. “FRIDAY, RESET YOURSELF IN THE TOWER ON ALL LEVELS! REBOOT THE TOWER. CAN YOU HEAR ME?”

And he swings around, in a curved arc, and he can see—

There’s a man, a man there with Tony on the roof, and they’re fighting, hand to hand—

And suddenly there’s so many of him, everywhere, the same man, all over the roof, and they’re all attacking Tony, and Tony falls to the ground—

And Peter can’t—Friday hasn’t yet—he can’t breathe he can’t think it feels like time is slowing to a halt—

“Resetting,” Friday says, in Peter’s ear, “and responding to an attack, Peter, do you need assistance?”

“Tony needs assistance on the roof!” Peter screams, and he shoots three more webs and swings around, and the cloud is still up but the tower comes to life inside of it, an energy blasting up and creating ripples, but the cloud doesn’t go away yet, not completely—

And all the multiples of the man disappear until there’s just one—

—and Peter sees him stab Tony in the stomach.

“No!” Peter screams, his heart in his throat, and he starts swinging back that way, dipping and weaving in the air, and he can hardly see through his tears. “Tony, Tony! No!”

And he reaches out to shoot another web, but nothing comes out—

He’s out—

No more webs—

“Shit!” Peter yells, plummeting, and he swings his arms and tries to get closer to the building so he can stick and the cloud is still rippling and breaking in pieces and if he hits it just right he won’t be bounced back—

Tony Tony Tony—

And before he knows it something is crashing into him, and closing him up inside it—

An Iron Man suit—

And it comes to life quickly, the heads up display bright and shining, connecting to two other suits currently on the grid—and he’s not falling anymore—

“Tony?” Peter yells. He tries to get acclimated, quickly changing his trajectory and heading back up to the roof. He’s only been in an Iron Man suit like, twice, and the first time was an accident. “Tony? Tony? Friday is he—Friday, where’s—”

And just as Peter takes off, the purplegreen cloud explodes, and it knocks Peter backwards, catapulting him back onto the roof of a building a couple blocks over. He hits the wall so hard—

And Peter dreams of clouds.

Dreams? Dreams? Is he dreaming?

Purplegreen—black—stars—voices—

“Peter?”

Beeping. Wind.

“Peter. I am flying you back to the tower.”

His eyes are shut. Flying?

“Peter. The spell has been broken. Doctor Stephen Strange was locked in the lowest level of the tower by the perpetrator, former Stark Employee Quentin Beck. As soon as you reactivated me countermeasures were taken, and Doctor Strange was able to find—”

“He took—down the spell?” Peter asks. He hasn’t opened his eyes yet. He’s flying. He doesn’t wanna see, his brain isn’t working.

“Yes, and—”

“No specifics,” Peter says, and he finally opens his eyes. He’s heading for the roof—the roof, the roof— “Brain hurts—Friday, Tony, is Tony—is Tony—”

“Mr. Stark is alright, save for a concussion and a blast wound on his leg,” Friday says, and Peter doesn’t understand, he saw—he saw that guy stab him—

And he’s heading for a landing, and he sees—Tony, and Rhodey, and Happy, and Ned is there too, and they’ve got this guy on the ground with his hands cuffed behind his back. Rhodey is suited up, and Tony’s nanosuit trickles away, forming a watch on his wrist.

Peter lands, and the suit opens to let him out, and he tumbles like Han Solo out of carbonite in Return of the Jedi.

Tony catches him. “Whoa whoa whoa,” he says, trying to gather him up. “There he is, took long enough—buddy, bud, hey, you okay?”

His voice his voice—

“He stabbed you,” Peter breathes, trying to get his feet solidly under him. “He stabbed, I saw—I saw it—”

“See, he fell for it,” Beck says, laughing from his spot on the ground. “I knew he would. I knew it, didn’t I say? Tony!”

“We need to gag him,” Tony says, pointing over in his direction. “He took my voice, I’ll take his, it’s only fair—Pete, I’m fine, hey—” Tony helps him stand up straighter, and geeze, he must have hit the wall really hard, even in the suit—he feels like jelly. “It was another one of his shitty tricks—when you turned Friday back on she started launching our countermeasures, we’ve got plans for magic too, she’s just gotta be on—Beck kidnapped Strange, took this shit out of one of his spell books or whatever the hell—well, Strange just—Friday helped Strange get out of the building without getting bounced back and he just—said his little spiel—”

“Okay,” Peter breathes, nodding. “I get it. I get it.” He holds onto Tony’s arm with one hand, and points over at Beck with the other. “You’re a dickhead.”

“You’re a dickhead,” Beck says, “and now I know who you are, Spidey Widey. Know your whole little identity and everything, what are you gonna do about that?”

“Rhodey, Hap, get him the hell out of here,” Tony says, waving them away.

“Yeah!” Ned says, as the two of them haul Beck to his feet and start him towards the roof door. “Yeah, what are you—I mean, you’re getting out of here, idiot, you’re—you don’t even know what’s coming—”

And Peter watches as Ned actually follows them out, letting the door close behind them, still in the middle of his tirade.

“I’m fine Ned!” Peter yells. “Thanks for asking!”

“He’s just trying to play coy,” Tony says. “He’s been worried as hell—took you about ten minutes to get back, he was asking where you were every minute or so—”

Peter nods. “Yeah—but what are we gonna do about Beck, you know, uh—knowing—knowing me?” he asks, looking at Tony, already worrying about May and MJ—and Ned, who Beck clearly knows personally…

“It’s fine,” Tony says, shaking his head. “He’s done. He’s a terrorist now, like, by definition—he’s lucky nobody died, but attempted murder is on there, and there were absolutely…multiple attempts—”

Peter nods again, trying to focus. He remembers the stabbing clear as anything, and he’s never felt so far away and so close at the same time. Too far to help, swinging through the air like a moron, but close enough to see the look on Tony’s face.

It was too real.

Peter sighs, and feels dizzy again remembering it, and he straightens up and pulls Tony into a hug. Tony sounds surprised, laughing a little bit, and then he starts rubbing Peter’s back.

“Are you okay?” Peter asks, closing his eyes.

“I’m okay, buddy, he didn’t stab me. All good, stab-less. What about you, huh? You okay? Savior of the tower, the one voice that rose up when the others were silenced—”

Peter snorts, squeezing him for a long moment before he pulls back. “I’m okay,” he says, tentatively.

“We gotta get Helen to look at you—she’s coming, she’s on her way. May too, and MJ, they were at the coffee shop across the street—they noticed the cloud before the news did. And they knew something was wrong when they didn’t get their morning Peter texts.”

Peter shakes his head, glancing back, just to…make sure the cloud is still gone.

And it is. Clear skies.

He looks at Tony. “Maybe we’re a little bit too reliant on technology.”

Tony wraps his arm around Peter’s shoulders. “You think? I don’t know, I don’t think it’s…unhealthy—”

“Our entire world was just completely upended because everything needs voice commands,” Peter says, as they gingerly, half-limp to the roof access door.

“Listen, Strange’s ancient text also needed a voice command to break the spell,” Tony says, holding the door open and following Peter inside. “What’s that mean, huh? That’s caveman shit, and yet—”

“Well, he should—keep his spell books, uh—more protected, I guess—”

“That too,” Tony says. “Though I guess the kidnapping and being left in the basement is his punishment. Come on, Pete, we gotta go—get taken care of, gotta talk to the goddamn reporters, call Pep, start the cleanup, take inventory, make sure everyone’s alright—you’re alright, right? You’re alright?”

“I’m alright,” Peter says, the last couple hours’ events feeling very strange and fake, even though they were very very real. He needs to decompress badly. But how do you decompress from someone stealing your voice and locking you in a tower with a magical spell and trying to kill you?

Just another day for Spider-Man and Iron Man, Peter guesses.

That’s a sentence that would have blown his eight year old self’s mind.

“Careful on the stairs here,” Tony says, trying to help guide him down, “feel like both of us probably have stair trauma for the rest of our lives—”

“Oh, I’m either swinging or using the elevator in the tower for at least a couple weeks,” Peter says, smiling back at him.

Tony snorts. “Noted. Okay, tell me a story, tell me your thought process throughout this whole ordeal, tell me your…next steps, ideas…just wanna hear you talk, buddy, that was way too long of a Peter Parker silence.”

And Peter’s face goes red, because that feels like one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to him, really, especially since his bad guys tell him so often how annoying his voice is.

Well, Tony Stark doesn’t think so, how about that?

And his main thought, when he realized what was going on, was that he had to find Tony, because they could figure it out together. Tony can do anything, no matter what, and he makes Peter feel like…he can do anything too.

“Okay, well,” Peter says, clearing his throat as they keep heading for the 90th floor, where the elevator is. “I don’t even know where to start.”

“Start at the beginning,” Tony says. “When you woke up in the lab like a young Tony Stark might have…or an old one, couple days ago, either or—”

Peter smiles to himself. It is so nice to be able to talk again. He doesn’t think he’s ever gonna stop talking. It’s just nice that Tony actually wants to hear it.

So he keeps talking. “Okay, well, right away I wake up to Ned hitting me. And he’s immediately concerned about aliens…”

#irondad #iron dad #peter parker #tony stark #iron man #spider-man #works by iron_spider #irondad fic #iron dad fic #marvel fic #based on the buffy episode Hush

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mixtape-racha · 9 months

Text

it's a scream, baby! | hyunlix

chapter six: basic instinct

words: 2.31k // warnings: cursing, crying, mentions of a knife

OFFICIAL GHOSTFACE KILL COUNT: 003

“okay, (y/n), i’m gonna need you to put the knife down, yeah?” chan pleaded, jeongin scrambling off of his lap as he moved to get off the bed with his hands in the air. “what’s going on?”

and all of a sudden, it was like there was no more oxygen in the room. (y/n)’s heart was thumping in a way that felt too fast for her chest, breath coming out in short, hot pants. tears were falling from her eyes, thick and salty and she dropped the knife to the floor with a clang.

“channie– innie–” was all she could squeeze out before she fell into his arms, the older male bringing her to sit on the bed next to jeongin.

it took a while to calm her down, and even after her breathing had calmed and the tears had stopped, the small trembles across her body still persisted. in all honesty, she felt silly. she didn’t mean to interrupt chan and jeongin - although that was a can of worms to be opened another time.

“thought someone had broken in. sorry for scaring you…” (y/n) mumbled, fiddling with her fingers when she felt chan get ready to talk - she knew what he was going to say anyway. “i… i got a text earlier. a private number– and it really scared me.”

“why didn’t you say anything?” jeongin pushed lightly, pulling (y/n) into a hug. “what did it say?”

opting to instead just show them the message rather than put herself through explaining it, (y/n) felt smaller than she ever had. did she really just let a stupid anonymous message cause her to nearly maim one of her best friends? that’s so stupid.

“i just– i thought it was a prank. i thought it was stupid to worry you guys.”

“i get that,” chan sighed. “but at the moment, we can’t take any risks, okay? tell us straight away if this happens again.”

she nodded, before lifting herself up to go back to bed - much to the surprise of the two boys next to her.

“where are you going? you can stay here with us tonight if you want.” jeongin offered, the worry clear on his features, but (y/n) shook her head.

“honestly, i need to sleep. sorry for interrupting you guys.” she smiled, waving before she left the room.

much to her amusement - which she desperately needed in that moment, she managed to catch the way both boys’ faces flushed scarlet as she closed the door.

—-------------------------------------------------

when she woke up that morning, (y/n) could’ve honestly sworn she’d had the best night sleep ever. until she felt how damp her pillow was, how swollen her face was, and reality came crashing back down on her.

it had only been a few days since heejin was murdered, yet everything was falling in flames and crashing around them. woodsboro was on the verge of falling apart. three young women had all been murdered in the supposed safety of their own homes, and the police had no leads.

how was anyone supposed to feel safe anymore?

when a notification dinged on her phone, (y/n) scooped it up and saw that she had received an email from the university - what the fuck? it was a list of guidelines and rules set in place to ensure the safety and security of all students.

all evening classes were canceled until further notice, and all morning and afternoon classes could be canceled if the professor deemed fit. all students living on campus would have security cameras fitting in communal areas of their dormitories, as well as camera doorbells.

but it just seemed to get worse, or better depending on how you looked at it. no one was to go out alone - at least in pairs and groups of three. students were recommended to get their groceries through doorstep delivery. the campus was practically shutting down.

but something about the wording was off. something felt weird about it, and she just prayed that this wasn’t going to backfire or turn into something else.

pulling herself out of the comfort of her duvet, she padded down the hallway to jeongin’s room, knocking on the door softly. she opened it after she’d heard a soft voice telling her to come in, and was greeted with chan and jeongin playing xbox together quietly.

“sorry, did we wake you? i told him to stop yelling at the tv.” jeongin smiled, ushering (y/n) in where she sat on the edge of the bed cross-legged.

“did either of you get that email from the principal? all the new rules and shit.” deep down she had an inkling of the answer, but hoped she was wrong. her suspicions were confirmed when chan and jeongin looked at her confused, simultaneously pulling out their phones to refresh their emails.

when they looked at one another and shook their heads, (y/n) scoffed. this was so typical. the principal - a misogynistic, homophobic dirtbag making it seem like women are damsels in distress. while 9y/n) could agree that women clearly needed to more careful than men, giving the current targets of the killer, but forcing them to become hermits while the male student body could roam free was unfair.

she could almost 100% guarantee the principal - and most woodsboro residents - were set on the idea of the killer being a man. which was in no way a guaranteed fact - the killer could easily be a woman. aileen wuornos, myra hindley, amelia dyer, they could all do it so what was stopping a girl from woodsboro from being capable of horrors like this. not that it was a nice thought, but (y/n) was a true crime fanatic at heart and always found it interesting to see how sexism was rooted even in the most evil of actions.

given that her point had been proven, she left chan and jeongin to carry on “gaming” as they claimed to be doing, so she could get herself ready for the day. it was finally the weekend,so the guys and herself had planned to go and visit jisung’s dorm to spend the day together as well as say goodbye to yeji.

thinking about her friend made (y/n) slightly sad, that she wouldn’t have her closest female buddy by her side on campus anymore. but honestly, she completely sympathized with yeji’s decision to move back home for the rest of the academic year. the trauma she had endured was enough to send anyone over the edge and it just wasn’t fair to keep her on campus.

she was also aware that jisung and yeji were also very capable and willing to make another go of things, and so yeji’s departure would be hard on her best friend too. but at least they had each other - jisung was always key to (y/n) maintaining her sanity while being a university student.

chan, jeongin and herself arrived at jisung’s dorm at about 1pm - enough time to relax and just be with one another before yeji’s arrived to say her goodbye’s at 6pm. and honestly, it was nice to just normal again for a minute - sitting on her friend’s couch and gossiping like normal young adults did. she found out she was the last in the group to learn of chan and jeongin’s arrangement - something she playfully attacked them for. she felt as this as occurring in her own home, she had a right to know, with a smile on her face as chan blushed and jeongin threw a cushion at her.

they eventually discussed what the new rules would mean for their weekly movie nights and biweekly games nights, deciding that it would be best to hold them all at (y/n)’s dorm for the foreseeable future - purely so she wouldn’t get in trouble if caught by campus security, they claimed, but (y/n) knew that wasn’t the case.

as much as she refuted the idea, hating the silly little girl who needs saving narrative that movies like this seemed to force on its female characters, she also eventually agreed to the guy's protests that she wouldn’t ever be alone anymore. not at home, not between classes.

although, she managed to beat down jisung’s argument of having someone stay in her room with her eventually, but even the boys agreed with her so she knew she’d win that fight for a glimpse of freedom.

by the time 6pm rolled around, anyone could see that jisung and (y/n) were already on the verge of crying. they’d miss yeji more than anyone else on campus, even if others tried to refute that fact.

a soft knock on the front door threw the group out of their trance, (y/n) beating everyone to it as she sprinted to the door, throwing it open. and there stood yeji - hair scraped back, eyes swollen and puffy, much more pale than (y/n) had ever seen her/ not even freshers flu fucked her up this bad, but (y/n) knew that’s what trauma could do to a person.

“my yej–” (y/n) pulled the other girl into a hug, which was gratefully reciprocated, before she dragged her to an empty bedroom to have their goodbyes in private.

“you’ll message me whenever you can, yah? and make sure you keep looking after yourself. i need you in tip-top condition for when we go away over summer, angel.” (y/n) tried to lighten the mood as much as she could, but to no avail. it was almost like yeji was a shell of the girl she used to be.

the pair spent their time just curled in each other's arms. really, they only had each other to turn to when in need of feminine advice. for (y/n), the boys were never any help so she leaned on yeji like a sister, and she supposed that yeji really was her chosen sister. as for yeji, sure she had her old roommate, but she truly felt like she found a part of herself in (y/n), and now she’d lost nari, outside of her family her friend was all she had.

as hard as it was to pull away and say goodbye for now, they both knew it was for the best. they’d always find their way back to one another - but yeji staying on campus would be unfair to herself and she needed an escape.

when (y/n) left the room, fighting to keep her tears contained, jisung pulled her into a tight hug.

“how is she?” he whispered, as if speaking louder would break the dorm from the bottom up, and (y/n) shrugged.

“she’s a mess, ji. she needs you. don’t worry about me, go see her.”

so jisung slowly walked into the bedroom, his heart breaking at yeji’s disheveled form. his soul yearned for her, for the happy-go-lucky and bubbly girl he fell in love with, although he’d love he regardless, and prayed for her sake that she could get through this.

crouching on the floor opposite where she sat, he gently took her hands in his, warming at the way she smiled at him so softly. that was the girl he knew. the girl who was still shy after knowing everything about him, and how much he’d do for her. the girl who felt she wasn’t worthy of being loved by someone she called “so perfect”, even though jisung knew it was an honor to be able to call her his girl.

he really did try hard to combat the lump in his throat, because he knew he had to be strong for yeji, but it was so, so difficult. all he wanted to do was wrap his arms around her and keep her forever, but he knew that wasn’t possible. so instead, he opted for the next best thing. he held her hands, and comforted her like he knew she needed.

they sat and talked for a while, just keeping the conversation light and steered away from goodbyes as long as possible. they discussed their respective summer plans, jisung boldly stating that he’d be taking the dark-haired girl on as many dates as she’d allow him to.

eventually, she migrated from the bed and they stayed holding each other in a ball on the floor - in their own little world, until yeji’s phone beeped, signaling that her sister was back to take her home.

she knew it would hurt too much to say another goodbye to (y/n), and her other friends, so she pleaded with jisung to just get her out of the apartment as quickly as possible. of course, he obliged, wanting nothing more than to keep those tears from falling down her pretty face.

once he had got her outside, politely waving to her sister in the car, he turned back to yeji with a sad smile on his face.

“text me when you’re home, okay? and i’ll come to visit you as much as you want. it’s all going to be okay, yej.”

“i know ji,” she sniffled, arms crossed as if protecting herself from the crashing waves of emotion overwhelming her. “just… look after yourself. and (y/n). and the guys. i can’t lose you guys too.”

her voice trailed off at the end, jisung pulling her into a tight hug and kissing the top of her head in a comforting manner. he stayed right where he was stood as she pulled away and got into the car. he didn’t dare move until the car had left his field of vision, just in case it was the last time he ever saw her.

finally letting the tears fall down his face, he took his time going back into the dorm and back to the group. he wouldn’t let anything else happen to his friends. he couldn’t.

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aesopsharpmybeloved · 3 months

Text

Tess' Sharpuary - 10. Breakfast

Sweet brekafast is served in Hogwarts on Sunday, which is incredily popular with the students. A certain potions master appreciates so as well.

chapter specific tags: slice of life, fluff-ish, friendship

relationships: aesop sharp x reader (alluded to), aesop sharp & dinah hecat

10. Breakfast (1k)

tw: none

“Your lip, dear” said Dinah Hecat next to him, smiling into her cup of tea. Aesop used his fingers to wipe at his lips, quickly discovering that a dusting of fine sugar remained there from his meal. He licked the sugar from his digits unceremoniously, making his friend chuckle. “What?” he asked with a lifted brow but got no answer. Deciding not to focus on it too much, his hand reached for another scone. He brought it to his mouth and nose, breathing in its sweet smell before he proceeded to bite into the treat happily.

His eyes closed shut as flavour exploded on his tongue. The pastry itself was soft and incredibly fluffy, only lightly sweet, and sticking to the roof of his mouth somewhat. The generous filling of strawberry jam and whipped cream played a delicious symphony, the strawberry’s cheerfully wild sweetness mellowed by the airy, incredibly light and cool whipped cream, a hint of vanilla slowly creeping in and filling his senses. He wasn’t able to stop the deeply appreciative sound that hummed its way through his chest.

Dinah finally stopped pretending to read the Daily Prophet and turned to face him: “I swear to Merlin, Aesop, you’re looking forward to the sweet Sunday breakfast more than the students are!” Aesop chuckled but didn’t reply as his mouth was currently full of the sugary pastry. There was nothing quite like the Sunday breakfast at Hogwarts. It was served until ten o‘clock, so he had the luxury of sleeping in a bit, and most of the items weren’t usually served on any other day, as this amount of sugar was highly counterproductive to the students’ focus in class, the staff found.

Therefore, Sunday was something the majority of people in the castle looked forward to, the staff included. And Aesop, as Dinah liked to tease, most of all. However, that was just his sweet tooth, rather than any sort of aversion towards the goodies the house elves normally served them.

No full English breakfast could ever hold a candle to the breakfast readily available in the castle every day, and the smell of perfectly brown toast and eggs scrambled to perfection could be smelled long before one actually entered the Great Hall. It was enough to make many students visibly increase their pace in the morning, even those who looked like they were a mere pillow away from creating a make-do little nest right on one of the benches in the Viaduct courtyard and going right back to sleep.

It was a big change, having breakfast every single day. Back in his Auror days, Aesop scarcely had the time to make one in the morning before he had to go to work, and would maybe make some for himself on the weekend. After his injury, well, he did try to start his day off with at least a hard-boiled egg and toast, but usually just settled for a cup of tea. The firm routine of eating at Hogwarts actually forced him to exercise as much as he was able to with his maimed leg, as otherwise he’d be forced to enlarge his clothes. It took a while for him to adjust, but once he did, everything began feeling normal. Comfortable, actually.

“You make it look like you haven’t had anything sweet in years, not less than a day ago,” Dinah spoke, pulling him out of his thoughts. He washed his last bite down with several sips of tea and turned his head towards her once more: “Hm? How would you know? I don’t remember eating anything sweet here yesterday.” Dinah’s eyes held a mischievous sparkle as she rested her face on her hand, and Aesop immediately regretted saying anything.

“Maybe not here, but I saw one of my Ravenclaws ascending the stairs from the kitchens, and then going in the direction of Faculty Tower, rather than the Ravenclaw one. So I figured she was either sneaking you some sweets from the kitchen, or she went to see Noreen about an injury she received in the Hufflepuff common room. One, for some reason, feels slightly more probable than the other.” Aesop cleared his throat. Dinah’s perception was as brilliant as it was maddening, and she knew there was something more going on between him and the now Seventh-year Ravenclaw that met the eye… And it felt like she’s known so for longer than Aesop himself. Simply maddening. It was as if she was teasing him over an innocent school crush, absolutely nonchalant about the fact that this ‘crush’ was on one of their students…

Not to mention Aesop feared he was long past a mere crush…

“Just so you know, I do not ask her to sneak me sweets from the house elves,” he said instead, rather flatly and dumbly, prompting her to chuckle. The potions master willed his body from rushing blood into his cheeks, and his hand from crushing the scone and aking a mess of his robes. Merlin’s beard, if he was going to get this grilled every day after he’s had tea with the young woman, he might as well begin taking his breakfast in his room. Seeing just how often he met the girl and therefore provided Dinah with ammunition for further teasing, it might actually be a preferable solution. .

“I’m only teasing you a bit, dear, no need to get so defensive,” Dinah said, attempting to placate him as if she heard his little mental tirade, “just make sure you get some vegetables and meat inside your belly as well. Not even you can exist solely on scones and biscuits. I’m almost afraid to ask whether you’ve already tried so...”

The potions master couldn’t hold back a small chuckle of his own.

“Perhaps not,” he said, “but they work simply marvellously for breakfast.”

---

Thank you so much for reading ❤

[Ao3] - [Sharpuary 2024] - [Masterlist]

#aesop sharp #professor sharp #hogwarts legacy #my art #fanfiction #reader insert #drawing #aesop sharp x reader #aesop sharp x mc #sharpuary #sharpuary 2024 #fanart #hogwarts legacy fanart #hogwarts legacy fanfiction

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read-weep-repeat · 1 year

Text

A Letter of Affection (1)

Summary: A letter you never thought would be read turns your life upside down.

Warnings: Age regression, use of title “daddy”, pet spider.

_____________________________

The laptop burned bright luminescence at red eyes, signaling its bitter need for rest. You ignored the woeful cries of your battered keyboard. Pages needed to be written and editors needed to be satiated so that they could take red pens and slash through ideas, plots, characters, hopes, and dreams. You were on the final page of this month's deadline, perfectly timed for a much-needed vacation.

You finished as the sun rose and pressed send just as the clock struck seven. You leaned back into the plush comfort of your couch and looked across the room.

“Hanging in there, webster?”

Webster burrowed further into her substrate, only fuzzy legs visible. The tarantula's pink toes wiggled around the dirt before finally stilling. You smiled, eyes pinned on your companion as she started to snooze.

You moved your laptop to the side and fell back into plush pillows. You had no more work, no place to be, or responsibilities to fill. Webster's water bowl was full, Editors had their new pages, and you were free to do as you wanted. You sighed. Pulling yourself off the couch, you shuffled to your bedroom. A pink box stared at you from under your bed, waiting for you to slip and fall into its contents. You obliged and slid it across the soft carpet into the living room.

—--

"He's gonna love this." You whispered.

You threw the marker cap down onto the pink rug below you, that you were kneeling on. You had on a shirt two sizes too big, a unicorn displayed proudly on the front. fuzzy pink socks covered your feet while you rubbed them together to soothe your buzzing nerves.

But what if he didn't like it? What if he threw it out? Sure, the stickers were pretty, the glitter sparkly, and the contents sweet, but what if that wasn't enough?

"He not gonna love it." You cried, fat tears welling in your eyes. You wrapped your hands around your legs, burying your head in between your knees. Your shoulders shook as you whimpered.

Suddenly, through your bleary sight, you saw a glimpse of pink beneath the table. You pulled your head out from between your knees and bent down to the floor.

An envelope! Small and pink, it stuck out from the pile of crafting supplies strewn haphazardly across the floor.

You pulled it from the pile and set it atop the coffee table proudly.

"He gonna love. Gotta love. Daddy."

You caught yourself as you stuffed the letter full of your sweet words.

"He not daddy. Don't have daddy."

You shook your head, trying to focus your thoughts as you licked the envelope.

"Don't need daddy." You grumbled, stumbling up to your front door.

You wobbled as you put on your slippers. The apartment complex had four floors, the mail drop-off box being on the first.

"Ok," You whispered, "I can do this."

"I'm a big girl."

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

"Do you want to go through fan mail?" Hoseok asked, sipping a coffee as he slumped into the couch in Namjoon's office.

He looked up from his notebook. The lyrics weren't flowing like they needed to. Only a chorus had flowed from him in the 3 hours he'd been holed up. A break didn't sound so bad.

"As long as we go by the cafeteria." He eyed the cup in Hoseoks hand.

Hoseok gave him a slow nod and pulled himself up.

"Let's get going."

-----

Hoseok scoffed, tossing another letter in a pile of torn envelopes and thick pages.

"Some chicks are actually insane, man."

Namjoon hummed, fiddling with the half-empty cup. he moved the latest letter to the side, his pile a neat stack compared to Hobi's maimed mountain of parchment.

He grabbed the next without a glance and brought it forward.

A pink letter.

"Interesting." He mumbled, twirling the letter forward to see the bubbly handwriting.

“What’d you say?” Hoseok asked, sparing a glance up from scribbles on notebook pages.

"Oh, Nothing." Namjoon sputtered. He carefully opened the letter, trying his best not to rip into the handwriting.

He pulled the contents from the envelope, spraying pink glitter onto his sweatpants.

"Fuck." He whispered, brushing it away. Most of it fell to the floor, but pink sparkles still winked at him from his lap. He flipped the pages open. A scribble caught his eye.

Dear Mr. Joon!

The exclamation point was written in a blue glitter pen.

Cute. He thought. Creative. I haven't heard Mr. Joon before.

He kept reading.

Your music really helps me be small. I make things too! Big me is a writer, and my company isnt always super nice about my ideas. But I really like listening to your music, hopefully, your company is nice. I hope. Dont want you to be sad like I am sometimes. But its not like sad sad, being small makes it better. I get to watch cartoons and use a sippy and take a lot of naps. I even got special clothes!! Im wearin my unicorn shirt right now! I really like it.

Do you have things that make you feel better? I hope so. you deserve to feel nice! you seem like a really nice daddy man mr. joon. have a good day!

(y/n) (l/n)

He read it over. He read it over again.

I've never gotten a letter from a little. He mused, leaning forward in his seat. He put his chin in one of his hands and let his eyes wander to the sides of the page. Little stickers littered the edges. There were stars, pink flowers along the sides, and a small pink gemstone sticker in all four corners.

She's so sweet. He read it again. Daddy?

Does she not have a caregiver? He thought, eyes widening.

How sad. She seems like she'd be really nice and behaved. Not that brats are bad, I'd still take care of a little that was a brat. Only one as sweet as this though. He nodded to himself. Only one as sweet as this.

"You ready to go? I think I've had all I can take." Hoseok groaned, leaning back in his chair as he yawned.

Namjoon's head shot up. "Uh... Yeah." He cleared his throat. "Yeah, let's go."

As they made their way out, that pink letter crept into his pocket.

—-

“Goodnight, Hyung.”

“ ‘Night, Koo.”

Jungkook slipped into Namjoons arms. Affection was common in the family they built in dorm rooms, tours, and countless hours with no one but each other, and this was no different. Namjoon pulled away first and patted Jungkooks shoulder.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” He said. His hands were on his doorknob, already twisting it open before Jungkook could respond. He barely saw Jungkooks mouth twitch before the door was shut and locked. The letter was burning a hole in his pocket, pink turning to a fiery red as he threw it onto his desk.

Why this letter? He read at least 100 others before he got to it, it shouldn’t bother him like this. He shouldn’t be writing out a reply. He shouldn’t be asking about you. He shouldn’t be writing a return address. This was his real address, what the fuck was he doing?

He kept asking himself that as he snuck down the hallway, waiting until all the lights under his bandmates' doors went dark. He knew what they’d say if they caught him responding to fan mail. They’d snatch it from his hands, lecture him, give him the silent treatment, or read it. He didn’t know why, but the latter thought annoyed him most. This was for him. She wrote to Namjoon, not BTS.

The letter made a faint thump as he slid it into the mailbox. Stickers and a small tea bag added more substantial weight to the envelope. He sighed, nerves and contentment spread along his skin and raising goosebumps.

“No turning back now,” he whispered, before closing the mailroom door.

—----

You pulled your coffee mug closer to your chest, mittened hands encasing the warm glass. It was all you could do to keep from throwing it across the room. You stared at the mail on your kitchen counter, bills and junk mail spread out around a single blue envelope.

It couldn’t be. You had kicked yourself when you realized what little you had done, but decided that it would be fine. They didn’t actually read fan mail. No harm, No foul. Right?

Apparently fucking not. Your hands shook as you put down your mug and slid off your mittens. One finger gently reached out to graze the looping scrawl of the envelope's return address. This wasn’t the HYBE office. You remembered how you searched for the fanmail address in little space, distracted by toy ads and BTS fancams. This address was entirely new to you.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself as you peeled away at the envelopes. You worked slowly at the paper to not rip it. Slowly, the contents revealed themselves. A sweet, honey-scented tea bag fell onto your counter. Then, a small sheet of stickers emerged. Little blue koalas stared back at you as you giggled.

“This is so cute.” You breathed. You dropped the stickers, letting them fall onto grey granite as you pulled a smooth paper from its blue container.

You slowly unfolded it, and your breath hitched.

Dear, (y/n)

#letter mc #bts x reader #namjoon x reader #tw age regression #yandere bts x reader #yandere namjoon

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hannibals-favourite-meal · 2 years

Note

Second request:)

Same pairing as the last <3

Promot 3 & 22

Trope 4 and any AU you want loves, thank you! ✨

What's Mine is His

Knight!Bucky Barnes x princess!reader x prince!Loki

King Rogers has announced that his little sister will marry the feared Prince Loki of Asgard, there was many who had taken issue with it, including her personal knight.

Warnings: cheating?, arranged marriage, forbidden love, secret relationship, smut, implied threesome, misogynistic views, possessive!Loki and Bucky, breeding kink, Loki wants to kill Bucky and visa versa, death threats, blood

WC: 1.2k

Minors DNI

3: “Can he fuck you like this?” 22: “Let’s break the bed tonight.” 4: Forbidden love 4: Royal

1000 Follower Celebration

The halls of the palace were finally quiet after a day of chaos, allowing Prince Loki to slip unnoticed from the guest chambers he had been placed in upon his arrival. He had changed out of his green and gold armour and was now instead had donned a simple white shirt and black trousers, letting his raven hair tumble down the back of his neck.

It had been an eventful day to say the least. Loki smirked as he recalled the absolute horror on the court’s faces when King Steve told them of his intention to finally marry off his precious little sister. Many had competed for the honour of her hand in marriage, the strongest warriors and smartest minds through all the kingdoms had come and gone in an effort to woo over the young princess. But all had failed.

And now, she was being given over to the terrifying black prince of Asgard in an effort to build stronger relations between them. The loudest shout of protest in the room had been that of her personal knight, James Barnes. Bucky, as he was more commonly known, detested the Silver Tongue. He knew of the prince’s whoring ways, going through many partners, sometimes all in a single night. He even seduced Queen Agatha who was notorious for maiming men for just looking at her lustfully.

Bucky knew Loki would destroy the princess, corrupt her pure soul, and steal her away from him them forever. He would lock her away in some dark tower, never to be seen again. “This is an outrage! Her highness has had many more qualified suitors! Even King Anthony would be a better fit!”

“Enough!” Steve bellowed, slamming his fist on the arm of his throne, making everyone freeze. “The princess has gone too long without being wed and tensions with Asgard have been rising since King Odin’s death. She has consented to the match, knowing full-well what it entails. The wedding will take place in a week's time. Make your peace with it Sir Barnes.”

Princess Y/N was renowned for her timeless beauty, plump curves that somehow exuded both innocence and raw sensuality. And she belonged to him. So why not claim his prize a little bit early, he was sure she would fall easily into his arms like so many before her. As he carefully snuck through the extravagant castle, Loki’s mind conjured up images of the princess on her knees before him swallowing his cock, of her on her back, begging for his seed, of how beautiful she would look covered in bruises and bites, a silver collar with his name engraved on it, hanging from her delicate neck.

So caught up in his imagination, the prince didn’t notice the harsh sound of slapping skin as he approached her chambers. “Fuck, fucking take it princess.” A deep voice growled out from behind the dark wooden door, making Loki pause.

“Please!” That was definitely the princess’s voice but it sounded broken, tinged with tears. “This is my pussy isn’t it princess.” “Yes! Yes!” She cried, her cries being cut off by a harsh slap. “Can he fuck you like this? Can he make you feel this good?”

Loki’s green eyes widened as she screamed a resounding “No!”. Carefully, he turned the handle and cracked open the door, sucking in a breath at the sight before him.

The princess was on her hands and knees, her face pushed into a satin pillow, another below her ample hips as Bucky plowed into her, his thick cock already soaked with her juices. Their coupling was downright savage, the Knight seemingly laying a claim to her. “J-Jamie please!” His blue eyes darkened and his lip turned up in a vicious snarl.

“Please what princess.” He growled, pinning her down by the back of her neck and bending over her, his incredibly muscular body pressing tightly to her soft one. “Lemme cum!” She sobbed, fat tears falling down her full cheeks, wetting the pillow. “No.” He answered and picked up his pace, slamming into her now and Loki had no doubt that he was bashing the entrance to her womb.

Anger and arousal curled in his gut at his bride being violated by a lowly knight. His fingers curled around the small blade he kept hidden on him at all times, fully prepared to eliminate the man that had taken what is rightfully his.

“What if I finished inside you huh princess? What if I get you round with my children before that bastard? You never let me fill you with my seed, always making me pull out. But now, you won’t be able to. Because you’re mine, all mine, forever, even if you do marry him.” Bucky’s long brown hair hung over his face, as he pounded downwards, forcing all of his length in her quim.

Loki could see, even from this distance, the way her muscles spasmed and her back bowed, both attempting to run from the pleasure and embrace it. “‘M yours!” “That’s right princess, all mine.” He punctuated each word with a powerful thrust that pushed her towards the end of the bed so she was now splayed out beneath the knight, forced to take everything he was giving her.

“I suggest you remove yourself from my bride before you find yourself in a shallow grave.” Y/N gasped and tried to pull away from her lover, her e/c eyes now sparkling with tears of fear instead of ecstasy. But Bucky didn’t relent, instead his hands held her wide hips even tighter and pulled her plump ass back into his pelvis and kept her there, his cock buried entirely inside her.

“She’s not yours. She will never be yours, your highness.” Loki’s jaw clenched tightly and he stepped forward. With a quick glint of silver, his dagger was pressed against the knight’s throat. “Rethink that, boy.” But James just chuckled and leaned into the blade, the sharp metal nicking his white skin. “She has been mine for years, what makes you think that you will ever best me. I know her body better than she does.”

Y/N whimpered when he emphasised his point with a targeted thrust to the sensitive ball of nerves within her. A glint in the swirling green of his eyes took Bucky off his guard for only a moment before he steeled his expression once more. “A challenge then, whosoever brings the princess the most pleasure gets to keep her.“

Loki stepped back for a moment and reached up to remove his shirt, exposing his lean torso to the pair, and then unlacing his trousers. “I will still marry her, but if you win, I will never lay with her, you will father all of her children, be her husband in everything but the law. If I win, however, which I have no doubt I will, you must watch as I take your precious love every night until my heir has been planted in her womb.”

“W-wait.” She tried to interrupt but was quickly silenced by another brush of Bucky’s thick cock against her g-spot. “Fine then. I accept. Show me what you’ve got, your highness.” “Oh I plan to.” He strutted towards them, letting his pants fall to the floor as he reached them. “Let’s break the bed tonight.”

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jomiddlemarch · 2 months

Text

The shapes a bright container can contain!

III. “Who’s looking after you?” Draco asked.

He was sitting in a slat backed chair he’d dragged up beside her bed. It seemed mean that the few private rooms in the Hogwarts infirmary only held a twin bed and a side-table, far more like a prison cell than he felt was appropriate but perhaps reflective of the very little time anyone at Hogwarts had spent at Azkaban. Hermione was propped up with pillows, her hands laid flat on the white coverlet on her lap. Her hair had been washed but not tended especially well, wrestled back into an unruly, lumpy plait that spoke to unfamiliarity with either charms or potions. There was a cup of tea on the table, apparently untouched, as was the iced biscuit tucked at the base of the saucer.

“What do you mean—”

“I mean, who notices when you leave meals early? That you’re too pale, that you always answer when anyone asks, that you don’t count any danger to yourself too great? Who should’ve been the one to follow you, to stop you. To keep you from drowning?” Draco said, his voice a little too tightly controlled, too calmly even for her to not to be aware he somehow, for some reason, was nearly incandescent with rage. “It shouldn’t have been me. You’d never have thought I’d come running—I almost didn’t come, didn’t run, except that the children were too quiet—"

“They were scared,” she said.

“They bloody well should have been,” he said. “I was terrified—”

“I look after myself,” she said, answering the earlier question. She looked down at her hands but he didn’t think she saw them.

“You look after other people,” he countered. She looked up, startled. But not offended, not yet. Perhaps she wouldn’t be. “I understand, when we were children, everyone thought you were the brightest witch of our age. You knew better than everyone else, it was all right to rely on you but now—Potter doesn’t try? Neville?”

“Harry was brought up by people who treated him about as badly as your father treated House-elves. And then he lost Sirius and Molly basically commandeered him as an honorary Weasley with years of parenting to be made up for. She can be rather smothery, it’s not an approach he could really model himself after,” Hermione said. “He’s not very good at it. And he uses most of what he’s got to give on his own children, as he should.”

“Fine. I think you’re cutting him too much slack but I am willing to admit you know him better. But Neville? It’s not like him, not to notice, he’s always been so fond of you,” Draco said, trailing off.

“Exactly,” Hermione replied. “I can’t—it’s not fair to him, when he feels one way and I…”

“He’s in love with you and you only care about him as a friend, so you don’t let him get close,” Draco said.

“You’re as blunt as a bludger,” Hermione said.

“If you mean a Gryffindor, you might as well say it,” Draco shrugged. “You nearly died, I’m trying not to tax you too greatly.”

“You needn’t worry,” she said.

“You’re wrong. I know it’s an unfamiliar experience for you and that you’re likely to tell me I’m the one who’s wrong,” he said.

“Because you are,” she replied.

“No, I’m not. Because I’m the one who dragged you out of a loch in Scotland in November, because you couldn’t get yourself out, despite being one of the most powerful witches alive in England,” he said. “Someone else needs to worry about you. Though I prefer looking after, since worrying is largely ineffectual and won’t stop you from depleting your entire magical core, a real feat, I must add, given your previously mentioned magical strength, and getting yourself killed or at least maimed without the prospect of any recovery, if we go by your predilections. And it will surely be in a way that creates maximum guilt in your friends and associates. Neville will be beside himself and Potter may end up going through a midlife crisis and becoming the next Dark Lord. He’ll grow a goatee and be generally intolerable.”

“You know what a midlife crisis is?” Hermione said. Her lips curved and he realized it was the first time he’d seen her smile in months. A real smile, where the expression in her eyes matched.

“Yes, I don’t live under a rock. Potter would be a little young by Wizard standards, but I think like you, he still sees himself as a Muggle first,” Draco replied.

“Not wrong,” she said.

“Oh, are we playing a game now?” Draco said. “I’ll win. You’ve always been pants at chess and you can’t stand Quidditch.”

“Draco, what do you want?” she said. She settled back against the pillows and he could feel her exhaustion. The Hogwarts linens were too thin. She ought to be covered in a fluffy duvet, supported by a featherbed. There should be a pair of sheepskin slipper warming on a fender.

“I want you to be properly looked after. I’ve—we’ve both lost too many people in our lives. I don’t want you to be someone else who’s lost,” he said. “I spoke to Abbott and the Headmistress, they allowed me to see whether your quarters were adequate for your recovery and the suite is hardly better kitted out than this room, might as well belong to a hermit—”

“You had no right,” she said.

“You’re right. I didn’t. But I did ask permission from your physician and your superior. When Neville heard, he didn’t scold me,” Draco said. “All the plants he gave you are dead, by the way. Even the metalmalarky cactus”

“You still haven’t said what you want. Not directly,” she replied.

“I want to look after you. Myself. I have a property nearby. You know I don’t live in the dungeons like Snape did,” Draco said. The man had been a masochist or Dumbledore had had him under house arrest. There was no way Draco would ever have agreed to live adjacent to his classroom and he certainly wasn’t going to allow the Hogwarts dungeon to be his son’s home. He and Astoria had bought the small estate shortly after Scorpius was born, an act of faith that the baby would not be a Squib and a commitment to being present in their child’s life as neither of their own parents had been.

“You want me to live in your house?”

“It’s a not insignificant property. There’s a carriage house, entirely separate. But it’s got all the mod cons and a library, a conservatory,” he said.

“A carriage house with a conservatory. Only you, Malfoy. Will you feed me hothouse grapes from your lily-white hand?” she said.

“I’ll stock the library with Regency romances, as you seem to have a taste for them,” he said, slipping the cufflinks out of his cuffs and rolling them back so she could see the calluses on his palms, the spatter of old burns he’d never bothered to fully heal. “Not lily-white. Say yes, Hermione. Let me help—”

“You’ll badger me endlessly if I refuse, won’t you?” she said. She could have sighed and didn’t. He let himself hope.

“I’ll have to. I don’t fancy a repeat of today’s dip in the loch. The Squid is whatever squid is for handsy,” he said. She raised an eyebrow and he decided to pivot. “It was too close. Please. Please allow it.”

“I suppose since you’ve asked so nicely, I’d be an utter wretch to refuse,” she said.

“Yes, I think that would be the consensus. Here and of course, elsewhere. Abroad. Across the pond,” Draco said, relief making him a bit giddy. “Shall I go on?”

“I think I’d rather nap for a little while. Then Hannah can tell us whether I’m allowed to Side-along or whether we’ll have to take Muggle transport.”

“That’s fine. I’ll get everything sorted. Let the looking after commence,” he replied, lowering his voice as Hermione’s eyes grew dozy.

#dramione #hermione x draco #draco POV #hogwarts professors AU #epilogue what epilogue #hurt/comfort #tw: near drowning #slow burn #harry potter #neville longbottom #caretaking as a love language #draco loses his temper judiciously

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mammonsbby · 2 years

Note

R or M…or both with Simeon please ☺️

M-Miniature (I'm gonna do R as well later on!)

You’ve just finished changing into your pajamas, ready to wind down for the night. You sigh as you slip into bed, the soft sheets have been calling your name all evening and now it was finally time to—

Your phone goes off. A text message. You snatch it from the nightstand, already grumpy with whoever has dared to interrupt your almost-sleep.

Solomon: MC, we have a problem.

You raise your brows at the screen and start to type a response.

MC: We do? Solomon: Yes. It’s Simeon-related. MC: Why isn’t he texting me himself? Solomon: He sort of… Can’t do that at the moment. MC: Can’t? What do you mean? Is he all right? Solomon: It’s sort of hard to explain. Can we come over? MC: Of course.

As soon as you send the last message, you put your phone down and start pacing. What on earth could possibly have happened to Simeon? Something so urgent that Solomon would text you in the middle of the night? Something that would make Simeon unable to text you back… Well, he’s never been great at texting, but he’s been getting better!

A knock at your bedroom door interrupts your thoughts. You yank the door open and Solomon is standing there, looking guilty.

“What happened?” You ask, sticking your head out the door. Your brow furrows, “Where’s Simeon?”

“Uh…” Solomon scratches the back of his head. Then pulls his other hand out of his cape, revealing a very tiny, very ticked off, angel.

“I’m here!” He says, waving both his hands at you.

Your eyes widen and you clap your hands over your mouth. “Oh my God! I mean, sorry, but…” You stare at Simeon, who’s now maybe half a foot tall, then turn to Solomon. “What did you do?!”

The sorcerer makes a face, “I didn’t do… anything?”

You glare at him. “You had to have done something!”

“Actually… I happened to eat a piece of cake I found in the kitchen. It looked so nice, I assumed Luke made it. Unfortunately, that was not the case,” Simeon explains, with a sour look on his face.

You blink a couple times, registering his words. “You ‘Alice in Wonderland-ed’ him?!”

Solomon chuckles nervously. “Sort of. It was unintentional.”

“Why didn’t you label your shrinky cake?” You snap, then before he has a chance to answer, you direct your attention to the teensy man in his hand. “Oh, Simeon,” You coo with wide eyes. “I… How long does this last?”

“With luck, it’ll wear off by morning,” Solomon says, though he doesn’t seem confident.

“And without luck?”

He doesn’t have an answer to that, shrugging and stammering a bit. “It’s hard to say,” Solomon finally manages. Then he coughs. “Um, regardless… We decided it would be best if Simeon stayed with you until he’s back to normal.”

“I don’t want to worry Luke.” Simeon says.

“Oh, of course.” You say, nodding. Simeon reaches his arms out to you and you could die of cuteness, but instead you hold out one giant hand. He steps into it, using your thumb as a handrail. Then he sits down cross-legged in your palm and sighs.

“I’m going to go see what I can do to hurry this along,” Solomon says, quickly making his exit before you can maim him.

You fuss over the tiny angel in your hand and reach out one finger to gently pet his head. “I’m so sorry this happened.”

Simeon leans into your affection and sighs, “At least I get to stay with you.”

What a sweet answer. You smile softly. Then you glance around your room, immediately seeing all the things that he could fall off of or that could fall on him. And you start to panic a bit. If you aren’t careful, you could squash him.

I wonder if there’s a way to…

“Sit here for a second.” You carefully place Simeon down on your pillow and are instantly jealous. He looks so comfortable. He even snuggles down into it and puts his arms behind his head. You laugh, then you pick up your phone.

Solomon is the obvious choice, but you’re rather annoyed at him, so you dial Satan instead.

He answers on the second ring, “Hello?”

“Hi Satan. I know it’s late, but do you happen to know of a shrinking spell? One that could make something… Fit into an old timey dollhouse?”

You hear Satan hum to himself, “A one-twelve scale shrinking spell?”

“Sure.” You say with a shrug.

“Tell me what it’s for and I’ll tell you.” You can hear him smirk through the phone and roll your eyes.

“I’ll tell you tomorrow.” You say.

Satan sighs, “Fine. I’ll text you an incantation. Just promise to be careful.”

“Am I ever not?”

“I’m not going to answer that. See you in the morning.”

After the text comes through, it doesn’t take long to make most of the furniture in your room small enough for Simeon to use. You bend down to sit him on your now tiny bed, and say the spell once more, pointing at yourself.

Your eyes widen as everything starts to get bigger and bigger. Finally, you’re a similar size to Simeon and you give him a hug.

“MC, you didn’t have to shrink yourself as well,” He says with a laugh.

“Of course I did.” You reply, with your arms around him. You peck his cheek and he flushes.

“Thank you.”

“No problem,” You smile. Then your face drops. “Well, maybe one problem… I don’t know how to get big again.”

Simeon sputters into laughter and pulls you closer, the two of you tumbling back onto your bed. "I love you, MC."

700 follower prompt list!

#obey me simeon #obey me solomon #simeon x reader #simeon x mc #obey me #simeon obey me #obey me imagines #obey me x reader #obeyme #anon #answered #700 follower party! <3

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romanceisdeadbutimnot · 2 years

Text

Wearing Red

💋

Hawks x reader

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings Warnings: No actual sex or mention of it, but it’s pretty steamy so read at your own discretion (children get lost). Also it’s not necessarily dubcon bc they both consent but Hawks is a little tipsy so if that makes you uncomfortable this is a heads up :) Features drinking and hickies

Female reader

Summary

You have a crush on your best friend Hawks -so when he begs you to be his date for a party you reluctantly agree. He ends up ditching you to drink with Mirko, but regrets it when he finds you flirting with another man.

From there you’re both forced into confessing in a very round about way

Link to ao3 here

Ch1 Ch2

Chapter 3

When you awoke the next morning, he was unsurprisingly missing. It left you with more questions than answers but you supposed it was better than waking up with him. You weren’t sure what you would even say when you saw him again. Instead you went to your bathroom to change out of your dress and his suit jacket, and assess the damage in the mirror.

That’s a lot of damage.

Your neck and upper chest was a portrait of pinks and purples. They were a little sore to the touch, but otherwise felt normal. They didn’t look normal, if you didn’t know what had happened you’d assumed you were strangled. They were a firm reminder that no you didn’t imagine it, and yes Keigo was an animal. You thanked your lucky stars that you enjoyed turtle necks, because you’d be wearing them a lot for the next couple weeks.

You decide not to wear a turtleneck, instead changing into a tank and sweatpants. It was a conscious choice to bear your branding for Keigo to see when he returned. You were hoping to make him feel guilty for maiming you like a feral tomcat.

You should’ve known better.

He returns thirty minutes later, arms and feathers full of shopping bags. When he sees you he glances down to your neck and lights up. If you didn’t know better he was exuding a smugly proud aura.

“You’re up!” He exclaims, depositing the bags where he stood.

“I’m up,” you confirm crossing your arms. “Where were you? And what was all that last ni-“you don’t get to finish your sentence as he hoists you over his shoulder giving you a face full of red feathers. He unceremoniously throws you onto the middle of his bed. A parade of feathers carrying bags follows him. He shuffles around in them throwing a blanket, then two onto you. As you pull the offending fabric off your head, you're bombarded with several pillows and another couple blankets.

“Keigo! What the hell is going on?” You struggle untangling your limbs from the offending fabrics. He chirps happily at you, depositing the last two blankets on the bed beside you.

“I’m building a nest!” He tells you with such conviction and glee that you’re taken aback for a moment.

“I know I call you bird all the time, but I’m genuinely so confused right now.” You tread lightly. You knew his avian tendencies were something he tried to hide especially to the public. You didn’t want to make him feel bad if he genuinely wanted to build a nest, but you couldn’t wrap your head around why he wanted to build a nest, and why you were currently sitting in it.

“I’m building a nest.” He explains to you, crawling over the mountains of bedding and rearranging the sheets.

“What for?”

“For you.” You blink at him squinting as if that would make the answers clear. You swore you needed a veterinary license and a degree in psychology to figure him out.

“I appreciate the sentiment, but I have my own bed. Not to mention you filled it to the brim with pillows and throw blankets when I moved in. I don’t really need any more.” You say carefully, something was clearly going on in that brain of his. There was some miscommunication, something that was unsaid that got you to this point. This causes him to pause. You watch as the feathers on his wings bristle before smoothing back down.

“Nice try sweet cheeks, but you’re not escaping this one.” He hums, arranging his ‘nest’.

“Escaping what? Keigo! You’re really keeping me in the dark here!” You run your hands through your hair, starting to get stressed out. What were you to him, at this point you weren’t even sure. “You fly me home and attack my neck like a starved animal, then you disappear and come home with blankets talking about a nest?”

“I did mark you pretty bad huh,” he turns to you now, examining closely your bruised neck. “Sorry ‘bout that birdie, I was just so jealous I nearly lost control.” He’s scanning you again, reading your expression like an open book. You flush bright red remembering how he held you down and kissed your neck. He smiles dangerously, opening his arms in invitation for you to sit on his lap. You refuse.

“You haven’t even kissed me or confessed. You can’t just mark me or build some nest like we’re together Keigo. We’re not together.” It hurt to say, you think it might’ve hurt him too, the look of shock and sadness washing over his features. All you wanted was for him to confess, to say that yes he did want to date you.

“Do you not want to be with me? If that’s what you want, I’ll respect your decision. I’d never want to force you.” He sounds so sad as he says it, it nearly breaks your heart.

“I-“ your mouth goes dry, trying to find the words for everything you wanted to tell him. How much you had fallen, how confused but hopeful you were. How you so desperately wished this wasn’t some trick or bird fluke and that he wouldn’t wake up tomorrow wanting nothing to do with you. The longer you wait to answer the more distressed he becomes in front of you - wings trembling, muscles tensing. You open your mouth to say something, anything, but the words stick to your throat, choking you.

Then suddenly as if a switch had flipped in his mind, all the distress melts off his features. He dons a neutral mask of nonchalance, one you’d seen him use at work. It terrifies you.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay ya know. I was getting carried away with a bird thing. I must’ve had more to drink than I thought. We can forget this ever happened, it didn’t matter to me anyway.” He pulls away from you, his cold uncaring words hitting you like bullets.

“You- You- Selfish! Arrogant! Bastard!” You lunge at him, tackling him into the bed sheets. “You don’t get to say it doesn’t matter, you absolute prick! Take responsibility for your actions, you overzealous pigeon!”

He forgets to mask his reaction, mouth hanging wide open in shock. You’re straddling him, pounding on his chest -not enough to hurt, even if he wasn’t a pro, but enough to get your anger out. You continued your rant.

“I’m not settling for this birdshit. You’re courting me like a proper woman, a confession with flowers and everything! And you’re going to kiss me before you cover my neck in hickies! And I swear to god Keigo if you leave me alone at one more party I don’t care how I get it done, I don’t care if I have to side with villains, I am going to kill you.”

He blinks under you, realization dawning on his face. He gives you a shit eating grin right before you’re the one being pinned to the bed.

“Let me get this straight. You’re upset because I didn’t confess?” He asks.

“Yes. You’re a terribly confusing man.” You frown beneath him; and he laughs. When he’s done laughing at you he scoops you from underneath him and into his arms.

“Okay okay, a proper confession after the most amazing date.” He promises, nuzzling his nose into your shoulder from behind.

“Good.” You huff.

“Excellent-“ a pause “-but that has to wait until Sunday, today you’re still mine.” As if to settle his claim he unleashes his teeth upon your shoulder, giving you yet another hickey.

“Knock it off!” You grumble squirming in his hold. He tightens his arms around you.

“What? I missed a spot!” He pecks the area again, as if confirming it needed his intervention.

“The second thing I said birdbrain.” You sigh, despite his antics you were very happy.

“What? I can’t kiss you yet! That’s our first kiss dove! I can’t waste it on jealousy, it has to be perfect. Imagine telling our future kids I kissed you tipsy after seeing another man flirt with you? Not cool,” he nearly squawks.

“Is that why you didn’t kiss me properly last night?”

“Duh,” he rolls his eyes, rocking you back and forth with him.

“So if you like me, why did you let Mirko exclude me?” You ask. “Does she not like me?”

“What? No. No, of course not. She wanted to make fun of me after I backed out from confessing to you.” He lets you go with one arm to rub the nape of his neck.

“You were going to confess to me?” You ask shocked. He merely nods.

“Yeah, last week when I took you to that beach -but I chickened out. I thought you liked me, but I didn’t want to risk it,” he carries on like it was the most normal thing in the world. And maybe it was but your whole world perception was crumbling.

“You knew?” You wail, cheeks going red. You didn’t think it was possible to die from embarrassment but you were getting close.

“You’re not exactly subtle sweetheart, but you always shot me down verbally. So cruel!” He flops backwards pulling you down with him. You roll your eyes this time.

“That’s because you’re a major flirt.”

“That’s unfair!” He gasps. “Besides I only really ever flirt with you.”

“Really?”

“Most certainly.”

“Does this mean I should delete Ice Cream man’s number?” You tease him.

He groans next to you. You laugh.

“Seriously dove?” He looks at you, and you stare back, snuggling into his arms.

“Don’t worry, I think you were right. He’s definitely below me.”

“On Sunday you’ll be below me,” he snorts.

“Keigo!”

#mha reader insert #mha x y/n #wing hero hawks #mha hawks #hawks x reader #bnha keigo #keigo takami #mha takami keigo #keigo x reader #keigo x y/n #hawks x y/n #hawks acts like a bird

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bridgertonbabe · 1 year

Text

Bridgerton Drabble - Harry Potter AU Edition #4

Though she had three previous experiences of it, this one was by far the worst. The ordeal was nearing the forty-eight hour mark and still there seemed to be no end in sight. It didn’t matter the potions she had been provided with to speed the process up or the pain relief she had been treated with, none of it seemed to work in the slightest. She was aching all over, she was exhausted, and all she wanted was for all of this to be over with. She had begged for mercy and even asked if someone was casting the cruciatus curse on her because surely suffering from such an unforgivable spell was on par (or perhaps even lesser) to the pain she was currently enduring.

Throughout it all her beloved husband had been by her side, allowing her to clutch his hand as tightly as possible and trying his best to soothe her. Countless times he had begged the doctors to do something, to end her ongoing suffering, demanding them to do whatever it took to ease her pain. His eyes would grow misty every time she wailed out a particularly awful scream that would gradually descend into a sob, and as much anguish as she was in, she felt guilty for how powerless she was inadvertently making him feel.

But finally, just after the forty-eight hour mark had ticked by, she gave one last almighty push and as soon as she did she collapsed back against the pillows, thoroughly breathless but relieved that it was all over. Her ears were faintly buzzing when a croaky little wail emitted around the room and she cast a bleary-eyed gaze as the midwife held the baby aloft. A kiss was pressed against her hair as her husband whispered reassurances to her, telling her it was all over and that she had done it.

“Congratulations, it’s a girl...” she vaguely heard the midwife say before she closed her eyes, allowing the sudden wave of lightness that had taken over her body to consume her, and then all she knew was darkness.

✨ ✨ ✨ ✨ ✨ ✨ ✨ ✨ ✨ ✨ ✨ ✨ ✨ ✨ ✨ ✨ ✨ ✨

“Hey, remember the time we played the Whomping Willow game?”

“You mean the time we tried to play the Whomping Willow game?”

“You two tried, you mean.”

“You say that Phillip as if you didn’t try as well.”

“I was trying to save you idiots. I wasn’t playing.”

“Well you were about as successful at trying to save us as we were trying to play the game.”

“All I can say is thank Merlin for Sophie. Without her that bloody tree would have maimed us for sure.”

Sophie vividly recalled the memory in question. They were in their second year and had gone for a hike around the mountainous grounds of Hogwarts before pulling up to sit on a hillside. The infamous Whomping Willow was nearby and Colin had said that Anthony had told him about the game that could be played involving the magical tree. Apparently if one were to press the knot at the base of the tree then the willow’s fearsome branches would stop and allow a reprieve before it reactivated into fight mode. Colin had declared he wanted to try the game out but Sophie and Phillip had immediately shut his suggestion down - Michael, on the other hand, had instantly sprung to his feet and together the two thirteen year olds had run off to take on the towering Whomping Willow. It only took seconds for the tree to lash out at them, sending both of them flying, but when the tree grabbed a hold of Michael and left Colin cowering on the floor, Phillip climbed to his feet and went to help them - only for the tree to wallop him back when he tried to come to Colin’s aid. Sophie contemplated running for help but they were a long way out from finding anyone who could be of assistance and she feared by the time she returned with someone that her three best friends would be in far worse conditions than they already were. There was only one thing for it - she’d have to try to deactivate the tree herself. And so she carefully approached the tree, keeping out of distance enough to avoid being attacked, and once she had measured everything up she leapt into action. She used her petite stature to her advantage as she scurried towards the base of the tree, ducking and jumping and dodging the branches that made a go for her and she slammed her hands against the small knot at the base. Instantaneously the tree froze up, dropping Michael from a thankfully short height and giving them enough time to all scramble back to safety. Her boys had thanked her profusely and sung her praises and in return she had issued the threat that if they ever tried that stupid game again she wouldn’t bother saving them a second time.

“You know what, come to think of it without Soph we really would have been dead by now. Like, several times over.”

“You’ve only just figured that out now?”

“It never really occurred to me till now...”

And though the only sense she currently possessed was the ability to hear, Sophie could still sense the solemn downturn in the general atmosphere.

“What if she doesn’t wake up?”

“Don’t think like that.”

“But Phil,”

“No. We can’t think like that. And Michael; don’t think I can’t see your eyes watering up.”

“But Phil,”

“No, Colin.”

“But it’s something we have to consider.”

“Not now. Just... not now.”

Again in spite of the silence Sophie could hear the overwhelming sense of resignation, of fear, of defeat. Never before had she ever known all three of them to be weighed down with such hopelessness and their collective heavy mood greatly unsettled her.

“I can’t imagine it. Life without her.”

“That’s a good thing. If we can’t imagine it then it can’t possibly happen.”

“Phil,”

“Oh Merlin’s beard, could you not just humour me? Could you have some hope? I mean this is Sophie we’re talking about. She’s a fighter. Always has been and always will be.”

“The mightiest among us.” Michael uttered and she could hear the gentle smile on his lips.

“She really is.”

“Exactly. And she’d beat our asses if she heard us worrying that she might not... she’d be pissed.”

“I don’t doubt that.”

“Remember the time she punched your brother square in the face?”

“How could I forget? She floored him.”

“And it was so fucking funny. She was tiny and she made him cry. And then he never picked on you again.”

“He’s still scared of her, you know.”

“No, we know. We saw the way he ducked down by the refreshments table at the twins birthday party when he saw her nearby.”

“Shut up, did he really? I must have missed that.”

“I’ll siphon the memory and throw it in a pensieve if you like.”

“I’d greatly appreciate that.”

“I’m scared.”

“Colin.” Two of the voices chorused wearily.

“I know, I know; she’d beat me up if she could hear me... Merlin, I hope you can hear us, Soph.”

And she so badly wanted to acknowledge that she could. She wanted to open her eyes, to squeeze the hand clutching hers...

Wait a minute. She hadn’t been able to feel her hand being held until just now. She pushed her mind to squeeze or at least for her fingers to flex but nothing happened.

“Soph? If you can hear us... then you should know Colin’s wearing the most unflattering pair of trousers possible -”

“Fuck off, Michael.”

“So I’d open your eyes now just to get a look at them!”

“They’re not that bad!”

“Take my word, Soph, they are rather hideous.”

“And you can fuck off and all, Phil.”

“If Ben were here he’d attest to how awful they are too.”

Sophie was even more determined to open her eyes, challenging herself to open wide just to get a glimpse of the aforementioned terrible trousers, but in spite of her determination there was still no luck.

“Soph, if you can hear, Ben’s with the baby.”

“He was running himself ragged, tearing himself apart in who to be with but we told him we’d stay with you, that he had nothing to fear. We’d never let anything happen to you.”

“Never.”

“Not in a million years.”

“So you know, don’t try it. There’s no need to test us, you got that?”

“And your baby’s okay. They’re just monitoring her.”

“Her, Soph. You have a daughter.”

“And she’s a fighter just like you.”

She felt her heart pang with guilt. Since she had become somewhat conscious she had utterly forgotten what had become before the darkness. She had forgotten all about the labour she had suffered through and she had somehow forgotten all about her baby - and she had forgotten that she had finally welcomed a little girl into the world.

Once more she desperately tried to will herself awake, for the sake of her three best friends keeping vigil at her bedside, for the sake of her husband who felt torn between her and their daughter, and for the sake of their daughter; a daughter they had waited so very long for.

But once again it was to no avail. She screamed internally, wanting to break free from this blinding paralysis she was under, begging to some higher being to let her awaken.

“He’s not alone, by the way. Mum and dad are with him and the baby.”

She wanted to shed a tear for Colin’s thoughtfulness. Even though he couldn’t be certain she could hear him, he was still making sure he could assure her, knowing her well enough that she’d be concerned with her husband’s welfare as much as their baby’s.

“He’s fine. But you need to wake up, Soph. I don’t know what it will do to him if you don’t... what it will do to all of us,”

“Colin.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

It was then that Sophie became aware of more than just the hand holding hers. She felt a hand clutching her other wrist as well as another hand grasping her foot over the covers of her bedding. All three of her best friends were holding onto her in any way that they could and she so desperately wanted something as small as a twitch to alert them that she was with them.

“The boys have made you cards. Wishing you’d get better soon.”

“Yeah, you should see them, Soph. Alex’s clearly got his dad’s knack for art.”

“They’re being well taken of, by the way. Pen, El, and Fran are with them.”

“We thought it’d be safest to have one aunt to a nephew. Lest they wreak too much havoc.”

“Yeah, they’re adorable Soph but Merlin almighty I don’t know how you take care of all three of them with such ease.”

“Years of practice.”

“Practicing with what?”

“Us, of course.”

“Oh... wow, yeah that makes so much sense now. Oh, so we were just a rehearsal for her.”

“I think we were worst-case scenario for her. I think the boys are way easier to handle than us, which is saying a lot considering they’re six and under.”

“Well in any case; you’re welcome, Soph.”

“You idiots.”

And suddenly the room fell silent.

She couldn’t quite believe it herself. She had somehow managed to utter something aloud and she hadn’t even been thinking or trying in vein to speak.

“Did... did she just,”

“Soph? Sophie?”

“Merlin’s beard - she just spoke! Didn’t she?”

“Well of course she did!”

“Unless we’ve just experienced a collective group auditory delusion?”

“For Merlin’s sake, Soph; speak again!”

There was then a sharp gasp from her right.

“Phillip?”

“She just... she just squeezed my hand!”

Again, Sophie hadn’t even been trying and yet her hand had tightened its grip on Phillip’s seemingly of its own accord.

She then felt who she was certain was Colin’s hand slip further down her wrist until he clasped her other hand.

“Squeeze my hand, Soph! Squeeze it!”

“And kick me!” Michael exclaimed as she felt the hand around her foot nudging her into making a move. “Kick me, Soph!”

“Ugh,”

“Soph!”

“Sophie!”

“We need a doctor in here!”

She hadn’t intended to groan - but she did intend to open her eyes.

“Did you see that? She just fluttered her eyes open!”

“Sophie!”

“Come on now, you’re so close!”

The light had been too blinding for her to keep her eyes open for longer than a second but once she rested them for a few seconds she then opened them again, this time straining to keep them alert long enough to take in the sight of her three best friends, each of them with watery eyes as they gazed back at her.

“Soph?” Colin croaked.

“I need a drink.” she wheezed with a dry throat - but before she could receive one, her three best friends had thrown themselves at her, clutching her tightly as they all sobbed with relief.

✨ ✨ ✨ ✨ ✨ ✨ ✨ ✨ ✨ ✨ ✨ ✨ ✨ ✨ ✨ ✨ ✨ ✨

She couldn’t keep her eyes open for too long but she was getting better and better the more time passed. As the doctors checked her over Colin and Phillip refused to leave her side though they reluctantly let go of her after the doctors had requested it. Michael meanwhile had pecked her on the cheek before hurtling off in search of Benedict, eager to tell him the best possible news.

Minutes later the door burst open and Sophie’s heart softened at the sight of her husband staring at her in wild disbelief.

“Hey, you.” she managed - and then Benedict stormed across the room and virtually collapsed against her, muttering his eternal relief with his head buried in her neck.

“I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you.” he repeated fervently and punctuated every declaration with a kiss.

She brushed a hand through his messy hair to soothe him and wiped away the stream of tears that were cascading down his face.

“I’m alright, my love.” she assured him.

“I thought... I really thought,”

She hushed him with a gentle kiss, swallowing all the dread he had been stewing in and in an instant she felt him melting into her.

“I’m here, Ben. I’m not going anywhere.”

He kissed her with utter relief and rested his head against hers, breathing her in and sighing away the grief he must have endured for however long she had been out for.

✨ ✨ ✨ ✨ ✨ ✨ ✨ ✨ ✨ ✨ ✨ ✨ ✨ ✨ ✨ ✨ ✨

Once the doctors had finished examining her, Sophie had one more question to ask.

“When can I see my baby?”

All four of her favourite men scrambled towards the door, each of them keen to bring her daughter to her, but once they realised there was no need for all of them to be racing off, Colin headed off to fetch the baby and his parents. As they waited Sophie weakly scooted over (despite Benedict telling her not to) in order to make room for him to sit beside her.

“But I want a cuddle.” Was all it took to convince him to hop in next to her and he drew her into his arms.

The door opened, Colin holding it as Violet entered first and then Edmund carrying the precious bundle in his arms.

“Sophie, we’re so glad you’re awake.” Violet beamed and pecked her daughter-in-law on the cheek.

“You had us all worried there for a while, sweetheart.” Edmund added. “But thank Merlin you fought your way back to us.”

“It’s gonna take a lot to drag me away from you.”

Edmund’s brow furrowed in bemused amusement from Sophie’s gentle singing.

“There’s nothing that a hundred men or more could ever do.”

Sophie beamed as Colin, Phillip, and Michael followed it up for her and her three best friends grinned and winked at her knowingly.

“Sorry.” she turned back to Edmund with a smirk.

“Don’t be.” he chuckled back. “And, without further ado, here’s someone who’s so very eager to make your acquaintance.”

And then the swaddled newborn was gently placed in her arms and Sophie let out a gasp of awe and delight as she gazed down at her daughter for the very first time.

“Hello, you.” she breathed as she delicately brushed over the baby’s cheek with the back of her little finger. “I can’t believe you’re finally here. I love you. Mummy loves you so very much, my little angel.”

“She’s perfect. Just like you.” Benedict murmured into her ear as he too became mesmerized by their daughter.

“And look, can you see?” Edmund motioned. “No chestnut hair.”

“Oh.” Sophie gasped as she noticed the muted sandy hair on her daughter’s head - hair that already seemed to have a slight curl.

“She’s going to be just like you. Just like I always dreamed she’d be.” Benedict kissed her cheek.

“Do you know what you’ll call her?” Michael asked and Sophie smiled at the sight of her three best friends all leaning over at the end of her bed in keen anticipation.

She nodded and looked to Benedict, who gave her the nod of approval to announce the name.

“We’re calling her Violet.”

“Oh!” her namesake gasped, clutching a hand to her chest as her eyes immediately filled with tears. “Really?” she trembled as Edmund came over and wrapped an arm around her.

“It was never up for discussion what we’d name our daughter.” Sophie said.

“I... I... thank you.” Violet simply nodded in lieu of saying anything more, wiping away her tears as Edmund kissed her forehead.

“What about a middle name?” Colin enquired.

“Sophie.”

Sophie glanced to Benedict, thinking he had just called for her attention.

“Violet Sophie Bridgerton.”

“No.” she tsked.

“Yes.”

“No, Ben.” she shook her head. “There’s no need,”

“But we need to complete our own little Awesome Foursome, don’t we?”

Sophie sighed as she realised she wasn’t going to win this battle. Since their boys were named Charlie Colin, Alexander Phillip, and William Michael, there really was no way she could possibly wiggle her way out of passing her name down to her daughter as a middle name.

“Yeah, you’ve got to, Soph.” Michael grinned.

“I couldn’t think of a more perfect name.” Phillip agreed.

“And then the boys will look after her just like we all look after you.” Colin said.

“I think it’s more likely she’ll be looking after them.” Sophie remarked. “Just like I do for you three idiots.”

Phillip snorted as Michael nodded with a smirk and Colin held his hands up to concede defeat.

And as Sophie cradled her daughter, she couldn’t help the tears that sprung to her eyes as she became overwhelmed with love; not just for her baby girl but from her adoring husband, her doting in-laws, and the three most loyal and dearest friends she could have ever asked for.

#harry potter au #bridgerton drabble #sophie beckett #benedict bridgerton #violet bridgerton ii #colin bridgerton #phillip crane #michael stirling #the awesome foursome #edmund bridgerton #violet bridgerton

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quintchess · 2 years

Text

Original by @random-writing-thoughts

Previous part

Villain reached out to Hero, touching their shoulder with the tips of their fingers, immediately sending an electric discharge through the hero’s body. Hero reflexively twitched their shoulder which made Villain smile triumphantly. “Now I’m happy.”

”I can't believe you used my kid against me.” Hero rubbed the spot on their shoulder that Villain had touched.

“And I can't believe what you did last night.” Villain's voice was absolutely calm, they spoke as if they were telling a story they once heard, and not figuring things out. “You do understand that I offered you to move here not only because of Kid?”

Hero unconsciously looked at their kid, as if this could lead them to any hints. Then they turned their gaze back to Villain, shrugging their shoulders and waiting for an explanation.

“You're unbearable.” Villain smirked, shaking their head wearily. “I like you, you know? That's why I asked you to spend the night in my room. I thought that maybe you liked me too.”

“Oh.” That was all Hero managed to say. They didn’t expect such a confession, while Villain spoke about it way too calmly. Now more than ever Hero wanted to put their mask on to hide the heat coming to their face. In order to somehow get out of the conversation and hide their embarrassment, they turned away too abruptly, pretending to look after Kid.

Beaming with pleasure at watching the fearless hero turn into a mess, Villain smiled way too wide. But as much as they liked seeing the emotions on Hero's face, they decided to return to this conversation later. “Does Kid have a superpower?”

“What?” Hero asked sharply, raising their head. They could hardly believe that Villain had so easily stopped torturing them. “No. They don’t. And I hope they won’t.”

Hero's voice was trembling slightly from the emotions they had recently experienced, and Villain was openly enjoying it. “Why? Don't you want them to become a hero like their parent?” Villain tried to sound friendly when asking that, but Hero looked too serious.

“Exactly.” Hero exhaled heavily, looking at their kid with a slight sadness. “I don't want them to ever experience what I went through.”

Villain felt awkward. They hoped to distract Hero with a question about Kid, but they didn't think it would come down to this. They saw it wasn't easy for Hero to talk about it. And Villain could understand them too well. They maimed too many heroes during their life and wouldn’t want another villain like them to harm Kid one day.

“If you and Kid are going to live here, then we should equip a room for them.” Villain said that as soon as they saw Kid dragged a bag chair, climbing on it and then jumping into the pool with pillows.

“What made you think we’re going to stay here?” Hero asked, still unsure of their decision.

“Come on. It's obvious. I understand that you couldn’t accept my offer right away out of politeness. I appreciate it. Now just tell me you're staying here and you're never going back to your old house again.” Villain looked as if they could influence Hero with just confidence in their words.

“I need to go back there, actually.” Hero chuckled lightly, feeling defeated.

“What? Why?” Villain sat closer in disbelief, trying to read in Hero's face whether they were joking.

“I want to check that we took all of our things from there. And I also need to tell my landlord that I won’t be living there anymore. I want to visit them today.”

Villain breathed a sigh of relief. “Okay. Fine.” They ran their fingers along their face, calming the storm that hadn’t started inside them. “You can leave Kid with me. I'll look after them.”

“No way.” Hero laughed nervously, getting on their feet and stretching. “I don't trust you enough to leave my kid with you, even though I like you.”

“You finally admitted it.” Villain smiled stupidly at Hero, who lightly slapped them on the shoulder in embarrassment.

“Anyway, I wanted to ask my friend to look after Kid.” Hero confessed, checking their pants pockets and realizing that they had left their phone inside the house.

“But you can't do this to me!” Villain immediately jumped to their feet, taking Hero by their shoulders. “Who are even your friend?! Do you want to leave Kid with some random dude?”

“They aren’t a random dude.” Hero smiled slightly and slowly removed Villain's hands from themselves, patting them encouragingly on the shoulder. “And between a friend and a villain, I will choose a friend.”

“Hero!”

***

“Look, Hero clearly told me to keep an eye on Kid. And if Hero wanted someone else to pick them up, they would’ve told me about it.” Friend kept the front door half open, preparing to close it right in front of Villain's face.

“Maybe I should repeat myself.” Villain said tiredly, taking a gun out of their pants pocket and pointing it at Friend's chest. “Hero was busy and asked me to take Kid home. Are we clear now?“

"We are.” Friend swallowed a lump in their throat and opened the door wider, letting Kid out of the apartment.

Villain put the gun in their pocket before Kid could notice it. They lowered themselves to meet Kid’s eyes level and smiled, lightly ruffling Kid's hair.

Kid smiled and hugged them, after which Villain got up on their feet and took kid’s hand, addressing Friend. “It's a pleasure doing business with you.”

“Bye, Friend!” Kid waved happily at them, and Friend waved back uncertainly and closed the door. Kid looked up at Villain and took their hand with both of theirs, shaking it in different directions. “Are we going home?”

“Almost.” Villain raised their hand, at the same time slightly lifting Kid off the ground. “We're going to buy something for your room.”

#writeblr #writing #hero x villain #hero/villain #heroes and villains #villain x hero #villains and heroes #villain/hero

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theskyexists · 2 years

Text

scholomance 2

The first half of this book was a bit slow and not so crunchy, the second was very very crunchy, and the twist worked out pretty well.

things that don’t make a whole lot of sense:

1. why is there a weight limit (this could be explained by saying it takes gallons of mana to bring mass in that way thus weight capped)

2. why does failing the exams literally maim or kill you. i would protest that shit if i were a fucking parent.

3. why the fuck would you need to reach some damn gates to get out when the kids get IN via induction spell and the way out is via unspooling that same spell

4. why didn’t they use the goddamn COMPLETELY FREE healing spell again

5. why not use a reviser to phase mals (MAWMOUTHS) out of the graduation hall.

6. so why exactly does the school KEEP good spells from students and fuck them over so much with exams and languages if it actually IS aiming to keep them all alive. what a weird twist. would have made much more sense if it was simply the biggest mal yet. like why the fuck would it have encouraged El NOT to go after the mawmouth going after the freshmen if it was trying to keep students safe???

7. i still dont understand where mana comes from and why it comes from horror terror annoyance pain

things that don’t make sense to me narratively:

1. why have El go on and on about enclaves and reading and studying and the scholomance is in essence an enclave and not capitalise on that (maybe next book but like...)

2. why was Precious such a bitch about El getting together with Orion? like jezus, they were just dating, just kissing and having sex and falling in love and shit. whats wrong with that my god. yeah shes gonna be devastated and everything bc he lied. he doesn’t love her more than killing mals (a very late dramatic twist bc for the longest time El didn’t even understand he genuinely loves it)

steps forward now:

just keep doing this shit ey? make an enclave type thing as a trap, lure em all in and boot the bit of matter into the void. BAM. exterminator supreme, El!

Like i was like, well now the chances are 50/50 for wizard kids, let’s build a new scholomance, and have the kids come down the maintenance shaft every week to burn the new ones out in teams (new freshman handbook rules, seniors do this so graduation goes way smoother) and especially kill the agglos and re-ward the mortal flame machines. if a mawmouth shows up just revise it out of existence with the revisers you put under everybody’s pillows. since this was never said to cost too much mana - why not.

but now theres a much better option. just boot em out into the void. just do that shit! hope the debris doesn’t bump into some enclave also out in the void.

incomprehensible liveblog:

is she gonna be a teacher???? to these freshman kids?

scholomance is so damn hard on these kids but it does also sometimes act in their best interests....probably to keep them coming

ok so the scholomance is trying to kill her even more desperately. by playing on her protective instinct, by assigning her the worst ever seminars and classrooms

why doesn’t she ASK CHLOE OR ORION FOR MANA OH MY GOD. WHY DOESN’T ORION OFFER IT TO HER

‘Sure, the story is, the enclaves put in some mana, and our parents all put in some mana if they can afford it, and we put in mana with our work, but we all know that’s a story. The single biggest source of the school’s mana is us. We’re all trying to save mana for graduation; everyone’s working on it all the time. The mana we grudgingly put into our schoolwork and our maintenance shifts is nothing compared with the amounts we put away for that rainiest of rainy days. And when the mals tear us apart, of course we grab for all that nice juicy power we’ve desperately been saving up, and they suck it out of us, only built up more by all our terror and final agony and struggles to live. The Scholomance gets the spillover, and then thanks to all those wards, it kills off a good healthy number of the mals, too, and it all ends up in the school’s mana stores—where it goes to keep the rest of us luckier ones alive’

So when an enthusiastic hero��read, Orion—shows up and starts saving lives, and the mals start to starve, the school starts to starve, too. And at the same time, has more of us alive in here, breathing and drinking et cetera. It’s all a pyramid scheme, and if there aren’t enough of us on the bottom being eaten, there’s not enough for the ones at the top.

an explanation!

so in other words, the only thing that comes into this closed system is the kids, and teh mals. and teh scholomance can only grab teh spillover of mana when the mals or kids are killed, or the kids deliberately put mana into maintenance/schoolwork. somehow. i guess there’s a huge loss on the energy when it’s used to kill though. somehow. i guess because the mana is transformed into something else by spells. thus it cannot be sucked up by the school. but it’s happy with Orion killing teh small mals. won’t it be happy with El doing the same?

EXACTLY. ASK CHLOE. REMIND HER WHAT EL CAN DO. FOR GOOD OR BAD.

YES!!!!!!!!!!! FINALLY SOMEBODY GOT THEIR WITS TOGETHER AND REALISED THAT EL IS THE ONE TO GIVE THE RESOURCES

NOW THE WHOLE SCHOOL’S GOT A POWERHOUSE

won’t the new york enclave be upset with Chloe’s alliance?

pretty sad to have el’s work always (still!) be attributed to orion

AAHH there’s a freshman handbook.... which el read ofc but orion didn’t.

Well fucking finally people realised that El’s a catch. I mean - jezus christ. She really could have shown everbody from the start.

what i dont get is if her mother had 7 spellbooks why doesnt she know more of her spells

why the fuck aren’t they inviting orion on their team

Why the FUCK would they stop working on the honeypot if the lute plan mostly worked and apparently Orion has just found the key component of wizard blood. It's essential that Orion pours in more mana into the pool!!! Wtf???

Why think it normal that's 1. Scholomance has it out for El 2. THUS the mals come after her. Just cos the school lets them through or what?

The finals literally main students. SURELY wizards didn't think of that part???? Surely thats the scholomance operating as much within its parameters to weaken the weak further?

Why the hell would El consider all the killing spells she gets useless? The whole point is to kill mals. She could become a literal exterminator outside too.

It really does seem like the wizards have lost control of the school. Why else couldn't they sneak in adults with induction?

How the fuck can I ship Orion and El if he doesn't even get anything ever about her. But I guess his dumbness strengthens her

What are the mouse familiars about...

You're telling me that there's NO magic to keep you from getting pregnant???? Hello??? Aha. The spell gets confused....that doesn't make any sense lol. It's not like a shield spell gets confused when you walk into a gout of flame deliberately to get to the other side of the graduation hall, now does it?

The obstacle course stuff implies that wizards can still adjust things inside the scholomance. So why would they allow the Scholomance to maim those who fail their exams.

I thought seniors got access to way better spells? But El's gotten nothing. Also that reviser trick is great. Why not dump patience and fortitude out into the void like that? And reading so much about enclave spells, I feel like that should give her a way with the reality and unreality of the scholomance.

Why the fuck would El say that mature wizards are the real apex predators. In what sense. What do they hunt

Oh only NOW does El ask the invincible hero in love with her to join her team. What the fuck. And he doesn't say yes? And she was asking him for his safety?

What I don't understand is why they don't share spells. I understand keeping mana for yourself but why not spells??

They actually use the spells they're gonna use at graduation? I mean...isn't that wasting mana. And the obstacle course can kill you. I mean....that's only going to lower everybody's chances right

They're all bloodied up. So let's do a circle spell again? THEY DONT DO THE COMPLETELY FREE HEALING SPELL

Right - ok that explains the casting. If the course fakes the effect then either it's an illusion and illusions are cheaper or the ffect comes out of the general mana pool and we know why the scholomance is always so hungry

Why the fuck would her wither spells not work but khamis firepotion would? Lol

Ahhh now she realises that she must save them all. But! How can she save them all - right?

She should take everybody with her on this course. Yep she is. But she should do it all together maybe.

El is so FUCKING stupid. She never tells people anything. 'oh they won't believe I'm powerful without proof :(' 'oh they won't believe I'll help people :('

Just TELL THEM. Ok just going for it was effective. And now ALL the teams are becoming more and more tightly knit.....

It's funny. El's got the INSTINCTS for bringing people together but she hasn't got the rational thinking for it. That's gotta be her friends dealing with her.

AND she keeps thinking : yeah I'm not doing that, but then doing it anyway. MAWMOUTH here she comes.

Orion is such a dumb brick Jezus Christ. He's really gone down in attractiveness

The SECOND half of this book is actually picking up

El keeps yammering on about how unfairly Orion was treated in the enclave but I genuinely do not see it. She makes deals all the time and thinks them fair. All the wizards do all their lives - and the enclave made the deal with Orion that he'd kill mals - which he instinctively loves to do - and they'd give him whatever. Which I think is pretty damn fair. Just because Orion is SO extremely lucky that he doesn't need any protection and wouldn't have had to come to the scholomance at all to survive - well, that's HIS EXTREME LUCK - which El used to despise in anyone. But if it's natural not social it's fine apparently.

YES!!! LIESEL!!!! ARMY GENERAL!!!!

Since they can't keep more than 300 alive, they're gonna somehow have to go one after the other. But how?

God theyre good. Kept their whole generation from getting eaten much. And now they're tackling graduation like no one else. What about the kids who come after...?

Liesel is so fucking right and El is almost as much an idiot as Orion. Idiot could have told and shown everyone and they could have prepared for FOUR years together.

What's up with this mouse trying to force El to stay away from Orion like she's the manifestation of Gwen's message.

LOOK AT WHAT THEY CAN ACCOMPLISH TOGETHER!!!!!!!!

And look how enormously useful El's death spells are. Should have written some more

EXACTLY. HAH. HERE IT COMES. Thanks sudarat. She's getting them all out. Alllll of em. Yep. All of the seniors. But what about those poor freshmen.....

The title is a bit of a hint. Her friends are gonna pissed when she stays behind.

'im so stupid' yeah El you're smarter than Orion but stupider than most others.

El my dear - you could make it better. You could improve the wards, burn out the mals, teach the children, defend defend defend, for as long as you stay

What would happen on the outside... More and more wizard kids. The lucky ones all survive in scholomance. The others die outside. And the wizard population grows... There really was something to the throwaway comment about wizards being the predators. Ecology ecology.

Maybe.....yeah the scholomance does want to be better. So.... It was nice to Orion because he was protecting kids. And it was hard on El to attempt prod her into action... After all....it gave her the sutra book, and kept her in the aisle. Not to keep her from helping Orion but to allow her to get the book. And it tried to get her out of the aisle when the mawmouth was there. Because it wasnt sure she could kill it. It put her with freshmen and led mals there to test her and to prepare her.

Thing is, if what's in the graduation hall is just so horrible - then them repairing the burners probably didn't work, and all those seniors died.

Oh right. It probably did work, and that's why the mawmouths are now desperately hungry.

Oh what. Oh no. Oh what the fuck. Where are they.

If the induction spell can drop you into your new room, and graduation is actually the reverse. WHY EVEN HAVE GATES.

'what do you want me to do?' she asks. And precious thinks it's obvious?

So the school made her care about everybody and told her look: you can.

Hmmm. But this is a very strange narrative twist. I was really getting into the whole army preparing to survive together by helping each other. And now there's nothing?

why the FUCK would the narrative go this way wtf.

I thought she would get everybody out, have to heroically fight patience and fortitude and then push Orion and Aadhya and Liu out with the sweep spell bc she'd stay forever to keep every generation safe.

But I guess that's....not it.

Ok but this is inconsistent because last year they were very much afraid of a full grown agglo coming through the doors down to graduation. (edit: that was an argonet apparently)

Ok I understand that a mawmouth is bad news but uhhhh El and Orion went down there and fixed stuff and didn't come across a single one. Like. Yeah yeah the little ones are faster but like...

But seriously why is there a graduation hall and not just a reverse on the induction spell

What WOULD work as a plan apart from dropping the whole school in the void is creating things that eat the agglos but which have a destruct button from a distance. Also simply reverse the induction spell to make graduation unnecessary. That having been built in really makes me feel like there's a hidden "lure all the mals to scholomance so they don't overwhelm all of wizard kind' agenda behind it secretly maybe perhaps.

So now I understand why the honeypot shit was in there. Don't understand why the narrative made it fail on small scale though.

Why make graduation only half an hour?

Also. Orion Lake leaking some sort of eldritch stuff out of his eyes certainly should have made an alarm bell go off in El's head perhaps.

OK SO. I think it's silly that a new mawmouth is given as an excuse that they can't keep killing the agglo's and repairing the mortal flame machine. Especially because the mortal flame took whole layers off of fortitude and patience. If you just dodged around the mawmouth /shielded enough - whichever came in in a couple of years, and you've got lots of space now - then you could easily keep it down if not kill it. Also - if the whole point was that Agglos are destroying the flame machine - specifically agglos - then I'm pretty sure that the narrative should have had El notice them chewing on the flame machine in the graduation hall when she was there. And a mawmouth is only a long term risk, they could improve odds for 5 years at least by regularly taking the maintenance shaft down and blasting any new mals to bits. Like every month. Or am I underestimating the presence of a single mawmouth? They really instantly want only a permanent solution.

More importantly, I'm a bit sad that instead of this development giving them space to create a whole new culture, one of all for one and and all for one, which will improve all of their odds enormously and make the experience hugely more pleasant - a culture they could pass on to the freshmen etc if they continue to root out mals together, perhaps hey, in teams from the start, patrolling,etc. but maybe the culture shift will happen outside as their whole generation is now in serious solidarity with each other.

This is one way I can see the prophecy working out in an unexpected positive way. El casts down the enclaves through true solidarity and reducing the desperate dependence that indie wizards have on enclaves. Also makes a mass killing in mals.

One more thing though is why don't they just let their kids get adopted by mundanes. Or idk invited mundanes into their house at all times? Whystick to the nuclear family. Grab your mundanes - grab homeless people off the streets and make them babysitters! Get a mundane nanny bodyguard! Jeeze. get four!

Two other ways I can see this plan go horribly wrong though and fulfilling the prophecy:

1. patience and fortitude are loose. Where did they go? More importantly - where did the Bangkok enclave go.... Can mawmouths traverse the void? Or...did the mawmouths simply roll out and go back hunting in the real world? Two huge impossible to kill mawmouths? Because Orion and El managed to deprive them?

2. There's a lot of ecosystem-type talk - reproductive rates, survival rates and predator Vs. prey. What if it was a good thing that all these wizard kids died? That is to say - it kept balance. This ties into one of my questions: how did wizards survive at all when 6 in 7 kids are normally eaten? It is said that mals used to be less powerful and hungry.... What changed so rapidly ? Or were wizards simply having loads and loads of kids to beat the odds? (seems unlikely to me)

El has often misinterpreted the Scholomance, and I think it's wrong to think it would evenhandedly keep kids safe. I'd say it absolutely does not - and picks off the weak to power itself so the strong can survive.

Im not into this romance anymore. El is so constantly worried about Orion - and yes he's shown himself dumb as a brick, dumb enough to get himself killed almost a dozen times. But! He's so completely blasé. He's never ever shown himself to align with her sense of injustice about his serious desire to simply kill kill kill them mals.

They're literally going to escape like tomorrow. So just fuck already! Jesus! Ok finally.

EXACTLY. Jezus did they really need to have sex first for Orion to set El straight on how he's not been damaged by his parents and enclave? He's just LIKE THIS. he loves to kill and slurp up mana. That's who he is. Lol - but she really can't deal with it. She kept trying to blame the enclave but ITS JUST WHO HE IS.

SHE REALLY STILL THINKS THAT ORION HAS SIMPLY BEEN TAKEN ADVANTAGE OF. WHAT IS WRONG WITH HER?????

Please do NOT die Liu. DO NOT DIE.

Oh right ok that's the crux. He thinks he's weird. But he IS weird. But that doesn't mean he can't pursue happiness.

I do wonder.... HAVE THEY ACTUALLY TESTED THAT THE SONG WILL LURE THE MALS AWAY FROM THE WIZARDS ACTUALLY LITERALLY STANDING THERE IN LINE

Also I wonder.....whether she's gonna have to kill another mawmouth

An obstruction eh.....might....that....be...a....mawmouth....

Ok but if the induction point is where the kids go back, and it is ringed by adult wizards, and ringed by hungry mals, how are the mals getting past the wizards. And also...if they've lured lots of hungry mals to the induction points and the kids are going back there........

Are they expecting a mawmouth tho. Like there's two still HERE!!!!!

Lol finally El understands and BELIEVES Orion. Jezus when he tells you something El - LISTEN. STOP THINKING HES NOT RIGHT IN THE HEAD. now she understands.

Please tell me that the kids going out didn't all get eaten. This isn't that kind of book right.

Why did they not expect a mawmouth. And why was it able to get through the fucking refusalshield??? That doesn't make any sense???? Was Alfie already out???? Oh it wasn't UP to the gate.

Liesel is so damn smart lol. She's so much smarter than El. TAKE THE DAMN MINDPHONE EL OR YOULL NEVER BE ABLE TO CALL ORION THROUGH THE FUCKING GATE

What the FUCK Orion.

Jezus Christ. He can't even fucking kill it! Oh my god.

#my stuff #vidi #scholomance

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skyetheprophet22 · 5 months

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Various Writing Prompts

#1 ~

I couldn’t believe it when they told me. The study had been successful. The pokes and prods of needles; the saliva-stealing test tubes; the snakes of IVs and blood-sucking syringes. It all had led to the development of some truly incredible powers. One tiny pill and countless exams and exercises later…now look at me - lifting buses without breaking a sweat and swinging thousand pound bears over my head as if it were nothing. One tiny pill and countless exams and exercises later to be told that my pill was a fake.

“Plecebo?” I choke out in indignation.

First off, how could they? Do I look like a plecebo kind of a person? Of course not! I am clearly the kind of brilliant, self-possessed, humble type of person who would be the perfect addition to any kind of super-soldier army. I’ve watched all of the Captain America movies, after all.

#2 ~

She was a creature of the desert. Of white suns and waving heat and parched tongues. Water was a luxury only the cunning could afford. She had sacrificed the tip of her tongue to a dying raptor for a mere sip. Shade was an amenity provided only by the night; at times by glistening monsters which ate the people and spit them out again. These monsters radiated heat, so there wasn’t much relief to be had.

This was such a different land than the one of her origin. Here the rain was plentiful, rolling over waxy green leaves and spilling into vast lakes. The sun was hidden by vast amounts of interlinked branches and huddled bushes and hanging ferns. And here something extraordinary happened: the leaves would fall off the trees, a brisk wind would nip through the land, and the cold would creep its way into her bones.

That’s when she first experienced it. The white rain. At first it was a gentle drifting, carried by the whispering wind. It flurried about her muzzle, tickling her whiskers and numbing her nose.

#3 ~

“Come, Johnny, come,” called the robotic voice.

John groaned. Rolled over in his bed and pulled the blanket over his head.

“Coooooooooooooooooooooooome.”

“Shut-up,” John growled, throwing his pillow at the blinking box of gray gears and beeping attennea.

“No, no, Johnny,” the robot chastised. “That’s a bad word.”

A second later John was shocked by a spray of cold water. He shot up from the nest piled at the foot of the robot’s charging station, a look of murder burning in his eyes.

“I swear to the fucking Lord above if you do that again-”

Suddenly his whole body seized up. John’s hands flew to his neck to grasp at the shock collar currently zapping into his flesh.

“That’s what bad humans get,” the robot said.

#4 ~

They were the very best society had to offer. Golden children with spectacular gifts who, yes, had their tragic backstories and bad days, but in the end always did the right thing. They protected the helpless and saved the bystanders. They had so much in common, but that didn’t mean they all got along at first. Samuel “Stormsurge” Johnson had a nasty case of survivor's guilt, leaving him serious and brooding and continuously butting heads with the cool and narcissistic Gemma Gilmore, the Nightshade. Robert Randall tried to quell the constant bickering, but usually ended up growing angry himself and lashing out. It took years for them to become a cohesive unit; a specialized team of friends who could take down any manner of villain.

They were a ragtag group of nobodies all molded by the very worst of the world. They had lied, cheated, whored, maimed, slaughtered…They were prisoners to their own dark urges and sadistic thoughts.

#5 ~

There’s not much to say about me. I’m just an average teenager, I guess: parents who won’t get off my back, an addiction to mountain dew, and a tendency to lose track of time when I load up the playstation. I know everyone can relate to the parents thing, but I don’t think you really understand how bad it is for me. My old man is like a ghost, hovering over me and prophesying my demise into the incredibly exciting career of accounting. I’m just like him, he says. My mother is a different story. My dad doesn’t harp on me for not doing my homework or threaten to ground me for staying out past curfew. Nope, he leaves all of that lovely helicoptering to my mother. She literally followed me one day while I was out with friends, creeping down the street in her black Sedan like a panther. It’s not like my friends and I are up to anything suspicious. Just the usual demonic possession and arson that every young devil gets out of their system when they're young. It’s totally different when your parents are the physical embodiments of Death, though. Then everything you do could literally throw the whole universe out of whack.

#6 ~

The viking in me wants to slaughter everyone in sight. I’ve been up since five am. I’ve endured a forced workout session, 6 hours of classes, and a two-hour lab of training baby freshman and sophomores on how to defend a pretend base in a completely ridiculous and unrealistic scenario, and to top it all off, I’m being yelled at because I cracked a smile. The smallest, most fleeting of grins because one of my peers stuffed a jacket up their shirt and was pretending to be pregnant. The viking wants me to eviscerate the condescending little boy with his holier-than-crown crown perched sloppily atop his head. The guy who was held back a year because he didn’t make the cut the first time.

WHY SHOULD YOU HAVE TO PUT UP WITH THIS SCUMBAG, the viking roars. SLICE OPEN HIS BELLY AND WATER THE GROUND WITH HIS BLOOD!

It’s oh-so-tempting. To just scream back at this little red-faced punk. How good it would feel in the moment with his fucks and shits thrown carelessly in my face.

But a gentler voice sings out from my right. That’s no way to handle bullies, dear. You must be the bigger person, otherwise you stoop down to his level.

#7 ~

He had slipped through his fingers once again. The promising trail of death and destruction he’d been following screeched to a sudden halt, leaving him nothing save for another dead little girl and a strange symbol etched into her leaking forehead. His calling card. The gruesome flair he left on all his victims. Further study led him to discover that the symbol wasn’t indicative of a witch coven, as he had initially thought. No magic was to blame for these murders. They had more demonic undertones than anything…He had the behavior patterns of a demon.

#aspiring author #aspiring novelist #aspiring writer #orignal writing #writing #cringe but free #writers and poets #writers on tumblr #creative writing #writing prompt #what a mess #so many things

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aarcanechaoss · 2 years

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Atsushi Nakajima: Stress Relief

Female reader because I’m being selfish and imagining it was me even though I would very much prefer to top I’m very much down for Atsushi to as well. | MDNI

Atsushi Nakajima was stressed and his last month had been utter shit. He’d been chased, maimed, attacked, beaten half to death, had about eight panic attacks in five days, was doing all of Dazai’s work because if the suicidal asshole didn’t do it no one would and overall Atsushi could just feel everything piling on top of him. It was so bad his girlfriend forced him to ask Yosano to get permission for a few days off for his mental health. Thank the gods for his girlfriend.

Atsushi and her had been together for a few months now, she was a university student who was shadowing Fukuzawa as an assistant and even Atsushi admits that he felt like she was a ray of sunshine. So pretty and bright that he had blurted out such things as he asked her on a date after a month of working with them. He isn’t ashamed to say a massive fuck you to Dazai at his stammering clearly working better than him asking her to go skydiving without a parachute…. Kyoka approved of the relationship too- apparently she had done some digging on said girl from her dietary needs to the fact that she learnt how to fight from a young age… thanks Kyoka- he does love his little sister so he can’t fault her for looking out for him. Especially when he could tease her about a certain farm boy. In any case he was so happy to just be laying in bed beside her, Netflix playing quietly as they snuggled in close. He wanted to him in content but the stress of the month was evident

“Kitten.” Atsushi said, his voice lower than usual. Lips grazing her earlobe his hands holding her tight against him as he situated himself behind her. His back rested against the headboard and pillows while you were pressed to his chest- both completely naked.

It was slow at first, whispers of each other’s pet names, your hands gripping on his calf while his travelled all over your body.

No one would have expected him to take charge like this except for you. He was always teased for being so vanilla by Dazai, the man would even joke about him being on the receiving end of such private affairs. Oh how wrong he is, sure maybe a few times have you taken over but very rarely and only if he was tired or asked you… but every other time Atsushi was more than knuckle deep, his fingers moving in a way that made you shake and whimper so loud he’s certain that if he was at the dorms and not your apartment that everyone would know the pecking order in your bedroom affairs.

One hand slowly moving against your folds, thumb rubbing on your clit, your thighs shaking as your orgasm attempts to be fulfilled. But just as he’s done the last four times he’d stilled his hand.

“Aww precious kitten. Sad because I won’t let you cum?” Your whimpers only seemed to please him as your body shook with your heavy breaths. His hand, the one not reaching deep between your thighs, pinched at a nipple making you squirm against his hand.

“Please Atsushi.” You whined out.

“Why should I?” He asked teasingly.

“I’ll be good I’ll be so good please let me cum I want you inside me please.”

He seemed to think for a moment- the room almost freezing in time before his fingers moved again making you jump. Your moans seemed to bounce off the wall as your legs clamped around his hand that didn’t slow down or stop, finally you’d get to cum…

He stopped again. A rumble of a laugh reverberated from his chest. Your whimpers and teary eyes earned some sympathy as he rolled you both over, making sure you were however on your back against the soft sheet.

“I think I may have teased you enough my kitten.” He said, voice low and teasing. “I want to play some more so I-“ Atsushi hissed as his length pressed into your awaiting wet warmth.

“Yes.” You moaned.

“I think we should end this together my kitten.”

It didn’t take much for either to finish, so riled up from Atsushi’s teasing neither could help themselves as he rutted into her as fast as he could. His strength and stamina making you near limp as your orgasms finally hit. Yours strong, powerful and blinding, his warm, strong and inviting. A few more thrusts and Atsushi was curling against you.

You were both laid on your sides, your left leg thrown over his hip since he refused to remove himself from you just yet.

“I love you.” He said. Always so soft and sweet after a stress relieving session.

“I love you too kitty.” You say pressing a kiss to his jaw making him smile.

“I love you more.”

“I love you times a million.” You giggled.

“Plus one.” He said. Your grins tired but loving as you shared one last kiss and fell fast asleep.

#bsd smut #Bungou stray dogs smut #Atsushi Nakajima smut #anime smut

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dreamwritesimagines · 3 years

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Burn The Witch 18 - Sleepless Night [Bucky Barnes x Reader]

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful support and feedback my loves ! ❤ Here’s the next chapter, I hope you like it as well and please let me know what you think! ❤ Thank you! ❤❤❤

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: Enemies to lovers, fake dating, mentions of blood, sex, violence, death, manipulation, language, guns, knives.

Summary: Midnight texts make things complicated.

Series Masterlist

Okay.

Everything considered, maybe you shouldn’t have barged in guns blazing to your fake boyfriend’s mission.

Especially because the said fake boyfriend thought you were a sweet civilian but as long as you kept your ski mask on, you figured you would be fine.

Even if it felt a lot like pushing your luck.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he asked and you looked around the hall to check whether there was anyone else, then shrugged your shoulders.

“I was in the area,” you said, “So, who else are we killing?”

“We’re not killing.”

“Speak for yourself, I just killed that guy over there.” You pointed over your shoulder “Killed him hard. HYDRA?”

“Aren’t you a sniper?”

“I can be whoever you want me to be,” you said with a grin and Bucky blinked a couple of times, shifting his weight.

“Why aren’t you on some rooftop if you’re a sniper?”

“Change of scenery. How do you know my alias?”

“Why would you help me?”

“I’m a nice person—“ you started but as soon as you saw someone lunging out of the shadows you pointed your gun and pulled the trigger, sending the guy to the ground.

“Most of the time,” you completed your sentence and Bucky raised his brows.

“Right.”

“You’re still taken?” you asked and he stared at you as if he was at loss for words, then pulled himself together and walked past you.

“Oh come on, I just saved your ass.”

“I had it under control.”

“No you didn’t,” you rushed to catch up with him, “And you didn’t answer my question. You still got a girl at home?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“I’m just curious. Is she pretty?”

“Do you always flirt with people you don’t know?”

You opened your mouth to retort but before you could, you heard a voice behind you.

“Buck, what the hell man?”

You looked over your shoulder to see Sam gawking at you and Bucky cleared his throat.

“Um….Sam, Shrike.”

“Okay, what is she doing here?”

“Beats me.”

“I was around,” you answered helpfully, “So who are we killing?”

“We’re not killing!” Bucky and Sam said at the same time and you held up your hands.

“Jesus, fine. Who are we maiming?”

“Did you tell her—“

“I didn’t tell her anything.” Bucky cut him off, looking uncomfortable for some reason. You hummed, clicking your tongue.

“I’m just here to help.”

“Why?” Sam asked and you shrugged your shoulders.

“I’m a huge fan?”

“Try again.”

“I’m hoping he’ll get with me.” You pointed at Bucky with your thumb, making him shake his head. Sam raised his brows, a grin pulling at his lips.

“Oh is that right?”

“Don’t.” Bucky said while you heaved a sigh.

“Listen guys, not that I don’t enjoy this but this is basically a HYDRA building, so you might want to make it fast, whatever it is you’re doing.”

“Can you wait at the door while I get—the thing?” Sam asked Bucky and he nodded.

“Yeah.”

“Great!”

“I didn’t say you could come.” Bucky said and you scoffed.

“I gotta tell you, I was hoping you would say that to me in a completely different context.”

Sam let out a chuckle, “Oh she’s good.”

“Unbelievable.”

“I don’t even want to know what you’re trying to get, okay?” you asked, “I just want to make sure no one dies.”

“Because you’re a nice person?” Bucky asked, his voice full of doubt and you thought for a moment.

“Eh, I have my reasons.”

“But she has a point, we need to make it fast.” Sam said, “Let’s go.”

“Seriously?!” Bucky groaned but rushed after him with you following his lead. After you all reached the end of the hall, Sam kicked the door open and you quickly peeked inside to see a computer in the middle of the office.

Ah.

They were after some sort of a file.

“Don’t let anyone in,” Sam said and closed the door behind him. You leaned your back to the wall, flipping a knife in your hand and Bucky stole a look at you.

“Why Shrike?”

You turned your head, “Hm?”

“Why do they call you Shrike?”

You clicked your tongue, “Oh you wouldn’t get it,” you said and he tilted his head.

“Try me,” he said, “Looks like we’ll be here for a while.”

I kicked a target out of the window and he fell on top of a steel spike from a construction site.

“I like knives better than guns,” you lied and Bucky scoffed.

“You’re a sniper.”

“So were you, but look me in the eye and tell me you don’t have a favorite knife.”

“I can’t look you in the eye, your mask has goggles,” Bucky retorted, making you smile.

“My turn,” you said, “Is your girlfriend pretty?”

“The prettiest,” Bucky said without even hesitation and you had to hold back your aww.

“Does that mean I don’t have a shot?”

“That’s exactly what it means.”

“Maybe I’m prettier,” you taunted and he shook his head.

“Impossible.”

You couldn’t help the smile on your face under the mask, “Loyal type, aren’t you?”

“Not a cheater at least.”

You heaved a dramatic sigh, “Well that’s a shame,” you said, “Lucky girl.”

“Nah, I’m the lucky one.”

“Maybe I should—“ you started but stopped talking when you saw a shadow by the hall.

“I call dibs,” you said before Bucky could even object, then grabbed and pulled the figure around the corner. He almost punched you but you dodged it, sending him back with a kick on the chest.

“No killing,” Bucky called out calmly and you groaned, dodging another punch as you did a backflip, then grabbed your opponent by the hair and slammed his head in the wall, making him pass out.

“Don’t be so vanilla, Barnes.” You commented as you made your way back to him, and tilted your head when you saw the way he was looking at you, almost—

Impressed?

No it wasn’t it, it was something else.

“Huh?” he asked, then tried to pull himself together, “Wh— I’m not even going to ask.”

“I’m just saying, there’s nothing wrong with liking it a little rough,” you grinned, “On the missions, that is.”

He scoffed a laugh, shaking his head.

“You can kill someone and flirt with someone else within minutes?”

“What can I say, I’m the whole package,” you stated, “I mean, not that it works on you, Mr I’m-in-a-relationship. So are you in love then?”

“Forgive me if I don’t want to share any details of my relationship with a homicidal maniac who apparently has a thing for bad pick-up lines.”

“How rude,” you pouted, “I think they’re really good pick-up lines.”

You could see the way he was trying to suppress a smile and you flipped the knife in your hand again, his eyes automatically following your movements.

“You won’t take off that mask, will you?” he asked after a beat and you shook your head.

“Trust me, you wouldn’t like the consequences if you saw my face.”

“Will you tell me who you work for?”

“Nope,” you said, “I don’t want to end up dead. My superiors have a strange idea of discipline.”

“Why are you helping us?” he asked again but before you could come up with an excuse, the door opened.

“It’s done, let’s go.” Sam said and you pushed yourself off the wall.

“We should do this again sometime,” you said and nodded at Sam “Captain.”

Sam smiled slightly. “Thanks for the help.”

“No problem,” you said and turned to look at Bucky.

“Until next time, soldier,” you said and walked away from them, smirking to yourself.

***

So maybe that was a heat of the moment decision, and maybe Chloe was going to kill you if she ever found out about what had happened but good news was that your cover wasn’t blown.

And Bucky was fine.

You turned the vacuum cleaner off, wiping at your brow and put your hands on your hips, looking around the apartment.

“What the hell are you doing?”

You let out a squeal and turned around to see Keith standing by the doorframe.

“Keith, what the fuck?!”

“What are you doing?”

“How did you get in?”

“I’m a spy. I heard vacuum cleaner and I thought someone broke into your apartment, so I had to check.”

“You thought someone broke into my apartment to clean it?”

“Someone’s gotta,” he commented, making you glare at him before you unplugged the vacuum cleaner. “I’ve literally never seen you clean, what is happening?”

You flung yourself on the couch so that he could sit beside you. “No wonder I don’t do this shit, it’s boring.”

“But why are you doing it?”

You shrugged your shoulders, “I’ll invite Bucky over.”

“So what?”

“I can’t have the apartment look like this,” you motioned around, “The guy grew up in the…. Everyone’s apartment must be spotless era.”

“He’s been here before though—“ Keith started but then covered his mouth, “Oh shit, now I get it. You’re gonna jump on his bones.”

You rolled your eyes at him, “Not even a word, Keith.”

“I have lots of words,” he said, “Number one, you do realize guys don’t care about the apartment, right? I have never once gone to a girl’s apartment and walked out because she hadn’t vacuumed the place.”

“Jesus.”

“Also, if you’re trying to go all wife material—“

“Shut the fuck up, I’m not.”

“I’d like to remind you that it’s a fake relationship,” he grinned, “Are you going to dress up like a Stepford Wife too?”

“I hate the day I decided to become your friend.”

“You love me,” he shot back and you slipped a little on the couch, “But hey, do you actually want to?”

“Want to do what?”

“To sleep with him?” he asked, “Or is it just the mission?”

You tried to keep your expression stable, excitement filling you at the thought of sleeping with Bucky.

Tonight.

Oh God, you felt like a lovesick girl instead of a serious spy.

“It’ll help the mission,” you lied through your teeth, “That’s all I’m focused on right now.”

“Aren’t you a little curious about how the most ruthless assassin of the century is in bed though?”

You let a grin pull at your lips, “Maybe?”

“Ha! I knew it!” he said triumphantly, “So how detailed will your report be, exactly? Asking for a friend.”

You threw a pillow at him, “You’re terrible.”

“Mm hm,” he checked his watch, “Ugh, I gotta go to base. But if I don’t see you before tonight, just…”

“I don’t want any gross advice, Keith.”

“Remember,” he said, “You have a cover to maintain.”

You pulled your brows together, “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means your cover probably likes missionary and soul gazing and stuff in bed. Complete opposite of you, so don’t be like yourself.”

“How do you even-?”

“I have it on good authority that you like knife play, Y/N,” he said, making your jaw drop, “And your cover is a sweet small town girl.”

“Did you talk to Julian?!” you exclaimed and he made a face.

“No,” he said, “You have a knife collection, you idiot. It doesn’t take a genius to figure it out.”

“Bullshit, who told you—“

“Ryan,” he said, “The agent you slept with and dumped, before Julian.”

“He was boring.”

“It’s beyond me why you thought it was a good idea to sleep with him,” he shook his head, “Anyways, I’m out.”

“Why do you have to go to the base, exactly?”

“I have to brief the General,” he said as he walked to the door, “I was supposed to do that yesterday but he was busy with Julian. I think those two are planning something.”

You frowned, deep in thought.

“Tell Chloe I said hi!” you called out and he saluted you, then left your apartment. You pursed your lips and stood up, looking around.

“I should probably dust the place,” you mumbled to yourself, “Where the fuck do I get one of those feather dusters?”

***

Unfortunately, Tara needed you to cover her shift that day so you had to change plans. Normally you were supposed to meet Bucky for your date, but when Tara told you there was an emergency, you couldn’t say no to her.

Keeping yourself busy at work, even if it was just a cover, helped you to get your mind off the nervousness you were feeling about tonight.

You had never been this nervous before, which came as a shock for you. Bucky was just a target, and you knew better than anyone how to manipulate targets but—

You really, really wanted this. Regardless of it being a part of the mission or not.

So you had just finished with the inventory and closed the cash register when the wind bell chimed by the door and you turned your head, a big smile lighting up your face.

“Hi!” you rushed to throw yourself into Bucky’s arms and he caught you, lifting you a little to kiss you on the lips.

“Hi darling.”

“I’m almost done.”

“No worries, I can wait,” he said and you went behind the counter to hurriedly place the jars on the shelves so that when Tara came back tomorrow morning they would be all ready.

“Sorry about falling asleep last night,” you said, an image of you killing that HYDRA agent in front of Bucky flashing in your mind, “Did you stay up late?”

“Just a little,” he said and you bit down on a smile, he really wasn’t a good liar.

“Oh? What did you do after I went to sleep?”

He waved a hand in the air, as if looking for words, “Um—I—I was with Sam.”

“Sounds fun.”

He took a deep breath and cleared his throat.

“Actually I went on a mission,” he said after a beat and you turned to him, raising your brows.

“A dangerous one?”

“Not really,” he said, “But I wanted you to know, because…”

You stayed silent, waiting for him to continue.

“I don’t really know about the relationship rules so I figured honesty is the best way to go,” he said, making your heart skip a beat, “I think I accidentally flirted with someone last night.”

The words “No you didn’t.” were at the tip of your tongue but you managed to control yourself and tilted your head.

“…Oh,” you ended up saying, “With who?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, “Remember how I told you there was this spy I kept running into?”

You really needed to control your expression.

“Yeah?”

“I mean she flirted with me, I don’t actually think I flirted back but I wanted you to know just in case.”

You smiled slightly, “Bucky, it happens.”

He let out a relieved breath, “Okay,” he said, “Okay, good.”

“I mean as long as you don’t have a crush on her or anything.”

His hesitation lasted only for a second, maybe even less than that but it was there. Your heart skipped a beat and you frowned before he spoke.

“Of course not,” he said quickly, “Not at all, I don’t even know her.”

Was that possible? Could he be attracted to your real self as well as your cover?

Or maybe even more than your cover?

“Alright then,” you said with a smile, “I just don’t like competition.”

“There’s no competition, I promise,” he assured you and you shifted your weight, then placed the last jar on the shelf and turned to him.

“So then,” you said as you both left the shop and he threw an arm over your shoulder, pulling you closer. “Did you know she would be there?”

“I had no idea,” he said while you approached the motorcycle, “She ended up helping us but I don’t know what she’s playing at.”

“I think I have an idea what she’s playing at, if she flirted with you.”

Bucky chuckled and pressed a kiss on top of your head, then tilted your chin up.

“Darling….”

“What? I’m pretty sure flirting existed back in the 40s, and you know what it means.”

“What happened to it happens again?” he asked you with a grin and you shot him a look, then grabbed the helmet from him.

The road to your place was pretty short, especially with the way Bucky was riding his motorcycle. Soon enough, he pulled over in front of the building and you tried to ignore how excited you were, it—

It was finally happening.

Who were you kidding? This had nothing to do with the mission, you really, really wanted him. Your heart felt like it would break your ribcage and you took a deep breath, then got off the motorcycle and placed the helmet in its place.

“So,” you said as he got off the motorcycle as well, then pulled you closer, “Any plans for tonight?”

“Nope.”

“Any accidental meetings with hot spies?”

“Mmm, I don’t know any,” he taunted you, making you smile.

“Yeah? You sure?”

“Oh totally. Besides, I’m happily going steady with the prettiest dame in the world, remember?”

You thought you would melt right then and there, and stepped closer to him before standing up on your tiptoes.

“Right answer,” you muttered after kissing him on the lips, and tugged him by the hand. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?”

“Upstairs,” you said, leading him into the building and he followed you as if he was hypnotized. You grinned when you got to your door, adrenaline rushing through you and you opened the door, then pulled him inside by the shirt, locking lips with him. He easily lifted you up, making you wrap your legs around his waist as he kicked the door shut and you pulled back to giggle.

“Bedroom,” you pointed at the room at the end of the hall and he pulled you into a kiss, walking there, still carrying you. You let out a squeak when he dropped you to the bed but then sat up when the thought hit you.

“Oh God damn it—“ you pushed him slightly to get off the bed and he looked up at you as you stumbled to the drawer.

“Is everything okay?”

“More than okay,” you grabbed the lingerie set from the drawer, then turned to him, “Just— close your eyes and don’t go anywhere, alright?”

“…Okay but are you sure—“

“I’ll be back in a second,” you said, running to the bathroom with the lingerie set clutched in your arms and you let out a breath, looking yourself in the mirror.

Even your eyes were shiny with excitement.

You shook your head at yourself and quickly shed your clothes to get into the lingerie set. You tilted your head, checking the garter belts and the corset, then pressed a hand over your chest to calm yourself down and walked out of the bathroom.

“Are your eyes closed?” you asked with a smile as you got to the bedroom and he nodded, holding a hand over his eyes.

“Cross my heart.”

You let out a small laugh and pulled at your hand so that he could open his eyes. As soon as he did, he blinked up at you, his jaw slightly agape.

For a second, there was absolute silence in the room.

“Is this a good silence or a bad silence?” you asked, for the first time in your life you were insecure about how you looked half naked in front of a partner, “Because I’m—“

You didn’t get to finish your sentence when he grabbed you by the waist to get you under him, making you squeal.

“You’re perfect,” he breathed out and you pulled him into a kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck.

***

You had no idea why you woke up. In fact, considering how peaceful you felt, it was a wonder how you woke up in the middle of the night.

You could almost feel the warmth surrounding you as you leaned in to press a small kiss on his bare chest, then grabbed his shirt in the dark and put it on to walk to the kitchen to get a glass of water. Surprisingly he didn’t wake up, instead he mumbled something under his breath, his dog tags shining under dim light coming from outside.

You felt like you could lie there and just lose yourself in the bliss, and the mission— no, everything else could wait.

You pushed your hair behind your ear after putting your phone on the counter, then you went to the sink to fill yourself a glass of water, and finished it in three big gulps, a smile which was impossible to stop pulling at your lips.

No one, target or a boyfriend, had ever made you feel this way.

Maybe you could just tell him. After tonight, after absolute happiness, you could just tell him and maybe he would understand, maybe you two could have a future, maybe—

Your phone vibrated on the counter, interrupting your thoughts and you frowned slightly, then touched the screen to open the text.

From: Julian

We may have found something. Good thing you didn’t get too attached.

The smile was wiped off of your lips in a second and your stomach dropped as you stared at the text message.

“Fuck.”

Chapter 19

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #tfatws #the falcon and the winter soldier #bucky barnes imagine

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