#but like with her shed probably beat me half to death or kick me out so like i can’t do that | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kiridarling · 3 years

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𝐌𝐎𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐑𝐓.

— 3.0k words

eijirou kirishima | hard dom + dubcon jic + f!reader + exhibitonism + face-fucking + dumbification + car sex + more! minors dni.

"Made me come all this way...it’d be a pity if I didn't get somethin' out of it."

"No, no, no, no, no—c'mon," you cry as your car engine spits and sputters to a stop in the road, coughing like an old man with asthma before it's dead for good. Jamming your heel on the gas pedal, you twist your key in the ignition, but there's no use. You're fucking stuck.

You sigh, before slamming your forehead against the steering wheel. It's hard enough to sting, and the blaring horn startles all unsuspecting birds in a five-mile radius, but you could care less. Stuck in the middle of the woods at one in the morning, AAA membership-less with nothing but the clothes on your back and the vehicle you came with. Short cuts are a fucking myth.

Mina's the only person you can think of calling—because frankly, she's the only one who'd know a mechanic who could help at this time of night if one exists. Which you doubt. Severely.

"[Y/N]?" Mina answers, semi-urgently. You wonder if you startled her out of a good sleep, but knowing the night owl, her evening is just beginning. "What's up?"

"I'm fucking stuck in the middle of nowhere," you groan, banging your head against the back of the seat though you know she can't see you. "Car's not working."

"Oh no," she coos, and her pity is useless. "Do you have AAA?"

"No. Do you have a mechanic?"

"A mechanic...at one am? I don—wait," she interrupts before you hear something akin to rustling sheets. "I might have a friend who could help! But don't get your hopes up girlie, he's a heavy sleeper."

You shrug, shaking your head. "At this point, I'm desperate."

"Alrighty!" Mina confirms, and now all you can do is fucking hope her friend pulls through. "I'll give him a quick buzz and then send his number over, sound good?"

"Sounds perfect," you breathe, relaxing (somewhat) with your chin against the steering wheel. "Thanks, girl."

"Of course!" she cheers, and you wonder how someone could have so much energy at this time of night. "Good luck!"

"Thanks," you snort. "I might need it."

Riiiing! Riiiing!

Eijirou's had a long day.

A pipe busted at the auto shop today, resulting in an immediate flood—meaning they had to get everything that could possibly rust out as quickly as possible, aka everything in the goddamn shop.

So, yeah. He's had a long day, and when he's finally able to get under the covers and go the fuck to sleep, Mina calls him with this.

"Hey...Eijirou, buddy, best friend—"

"Mina, I love you, but what do you want?" Eijirou grunts into the phone, voice worn and ragged from limited sleep and his terribly long day. One am is never an appropriate time to call anybody, but he figures something has to be up—Mina's not the type to call in the middle of the night.

"Um, well. My homegirl’s kinda stuck in the woods with car troubles—"

"The woods."

It takes Mina a second but she hums in confirmation, and Eijirou can see her head nodding from where he lays. He sighs, rolling on his back to blink up at the ceiling. "Yep!"

"What is she doing in the woods at midnight?"

"I don't know!" Mina exclaims. Eijirou runs a hand over his face. "I just—please, Ei? She doesn't have AAA or anything and it's really, really late. All you have to do is hotwire her car or something, right? It's not like she totaled it or anything."

And dammit. Eijirou hates being a nice person.

"Just give me ten."

Mina practically gasps out a thank you, "You're a lifesaver Ei! Really! I—"

She's interrupted by the buzz of his phone—this time, from an unknown number. Eijirou raises an eyebrow, "That her?"

"Should be!" The pinkette says. Eijirou's feet finally touch the floor and it's painfully cold. His bed has never looked more appealing, and that's counting all those instances in high school. "Thanks again, Ei!"

"Yep," Eijirou says, popping the 'p,' before clearing his voice and switching the line. Customer Service at one am, here he comes.

"Red Riot Auto Repair and Services, how may I help you?"

All he receives is a grunt on the other end of the phone: "My car won't turn on."

Eijirou waits for you to give him a little more to work with, but it's clear that's all you have to say when you ask hello to ensure he's still on the other end of the line. Runs his hands through his hair, he silently prays he won't have to leave the house to get your car to work.

"Did you try jiggling the key?"

"Yes, I'm not stupid," you huff, and Eijirou's eyebrows fold in exasperation. He insists you do it again though, and hears the weak splutter of your engine through the phone with a heavy heart. "'S fucking useless."

"Did you try tapping the battery terminals?"

"The battery whatsitals?" You say, too loud and smart-mouthed for the very thin amount of patience Eijirou harbors. He reaches for his hair tie, satisfied enough with the messy bun he makes on the first try.

"Just send me your location," Eijirou sighs, moving for a jacket before snatching the keys to the shed. He'd rather just get this over with than beat around the bush.

Luckily, you're not far.

"You drive that thing?" is your first comment, and Eijirou can't even appreciate your beauty before your first words shatter your image completely, and he's slamming the door to his truck with rolling eyes, rusted toolbox heavy in his hand. "It looks like Mater from Lightning McQueen."

Eijirou just stares at you for a second, just to see if you're really serious, and resists the urge to scoff when it seems like you are.

"It's a truck," is all he says, before marching around you and to the task at hand—your car. "Pop the hood."

You huff, but you listen, and Eijirou wastes no time in getting to work. You watch with your elbows balanced on the rim, curious but quiet, and that allows him to get in the zone enough to realize there are countless problems with your car.

"When was the last time you took this thing into the shop?" He probes. You click your tongue, eyes tracing the outlines of the trees as you search for an answer. That's never a good sign.

"Um...never?"

"And how long have you had it?"

"A few years," you nod, and Eijirou drops his head.

"It's a miracle you made it this far in the first place," he chuckles bitterly, shaking his head. What the hell is he going to do now? There's no way your car is moving anywhere tonight. You frown, jamming your hands on your hips.

"Well? Are you going to fix it or what?"

"I can fix it," Eijirou says with a shrug, closing your hood. "But not tonight."

"What do you mean not tonight?" You badger, breathing down his neck as he hikes back to his truck to set the toolbox down. There's no reason to carry it if he's not going to need it.

"I mean, your car's going to need a solid six months before it can run again, Sweetheart."

When Eijirou turns, you're much too in his face for his liking. He can practically feel your breath against his chest, and it has him rolling his eyes, leaning against his truck with arms crossed.

"Yeah, okay, but I need it to run tonight," you explain, gesticulating so wildly Eijirou fears his own chest may fall in the cross-fire. "Like, I need to get home tonight."

"I can't—" the redhead sighs, running his hand over his face. You're terribly difficult, and if Mina had given him a proper warning he probably wouldn't be here in the fucking first place. "Listen. My shop is out of commission for the next few days 'cause of a flood. I can work on your car or whatever, but it'll take a sec, so the most I can do is drop you at a hotel down the road or somethin'. Sound like a plan?"

"No," you growl, claws and all, and Eijirou wishes for nothing but death. "That doesn't sound like a plan! I don't know you, what makes you think I'll get in a car with you?"

Oh. My. God.

"Then you can spend the night in your car and have Mina come get you in the morning," he huffs, stomping over to the driver's side of his truck. "So it's either you're gettin' in, or I'm leaving ya."

With that, he slams the car door shut, shoves his key in the ignition, and counts to fucking ten, and on nine and a half you're flinging open the passenger door and bouncing in the seat, arms crossed over your chest in indignance. You don't even look him in the eye.

"Seatbelt," he warns. You tut.

"I don't need a fucki—"

"Put on the goddamn seatbelt."

You don't say anything, but he's satisfied by the click that follows. Eijirou shifts into drive and you two take off.

"The seat's so uncomfortable."

Not even twenty feet.

"Suck it up," is all the pity Eijirou has to offer. He's preoccupied with trying to get from this side road to a main road with, you know, actual civilization. The road is unsteady—unsteady enough that a bump sends the both of you flying towards the roof of his car, and naturally, you have something to say about it.

"Y'know, for a mechanic, you're not a very good driver," you say, and it has Eijirou's fists tightening around his steering wheel. His patience wears down until it has the height of a penny, and Eijirou worries for when it shatters because he has no clue what he'll do if it does.

"And it smells a little funky," you continue anyway, eyes wandering around the cabin aimlessly."Kinda like cheese. No offense."

Eijirou pulls over at that, teeth grinding. Is he really going to snap over cheese comment?

“Is this a condom?”

Yes. Yes, the fuck he is.

"Get out."

"Um—excuse me?" You blink, eyebrows raising in offense. "You're kicking me out. Because I found a fucking rubber?”

Eijirou glares your way and he's sure you can feel him radiating fury, and that's enough to convince you to hop out of the car without another word. He follows, slamming the door behind him.

"Okay? Now what?" You growl, and Eijirou loves it—the false display of confidence. Because he knows it won't take much to break you once he gets you under his thumb, and you'll look so pretty once he does. Cocking his head to his side, he tells you to come here without having to open his mouth. You follow.

"Now, on your knees."

You splutter at his request, rolling your eyes as if he wasn't being serious. Though you shut up once you hear the clink of his belt, lips widening in revelation, and Eijirou thinks you'd look much prettier with your mouth full.

"You made me come all this way—it'd be a pity if I didn't get somethin' out of it," Eijirou says, and the way you shiver implies that you like this more than you let on. He coos when you say nothing, "And for the first time today she's got nothin' to say. See? You're improving already."

He gives you a second to move. When you don't, he lifts an eyebrow. "Knees, Princess."

You do and Eijirou groans at the view, palming his hardening cock at the sight of your bambi eyes blinking up at him—and it's a pretty one, at that. Leaning against the door of his truck, he grunts, "Take it out."

Your fingers hook under the waistband of his boxers and Eijirou shivers upon contact with the cool air, but the warmth of your palm makes up for it. You spit on his cock with a curled lip and it's nothing short of crude, before you're swirling your tongue around the head and taking him as far as you can possibly go.

"Uh-uh," Eijirou tuts, grabbing you by the hair to pull your mouth off his cock. "We got at my pace, Sweetheart."

"Why?" You pout with a curled lip. Eijirou scowls.

"Because," he says, before stuffing half of his cock down your throat, "I'm gonna put that big fuckin' mouth to use at my pace."

With that, Eijirou thrusts into your mouth, using the grip he has around your hair as leverage. Your throat is impossibly warm and the way you choke has him keening, and that's enough for his hips to start picking up mindlessly.

"Shit—what a dirty fuckin' girl," he says, smirking when you moan around his cock. "You like this? You like sucking off a guy you just met?"

Your eyes flutter at that, nails digging into his thighs, and it nearly has him cooing. When you swallow around him Eijirou's hips stutter and he grunts, "In public, no less. Anyone could drive by and see you taking my dick down your throat...but you'd like that, wouldn't you? You want the world to know how much of a slut you are."

Your hand falls between your thighs and Eijirou grins like the devil as he watches you touch yourself on the dirty road, desperate just because knows how to push the right buttons. That's enough to have him caving, demanding you rise to your feet and get in the backseat of his car.

"Hands and knees," Eijirou urges, his body towering over yours from behind. It's not long before he's pinning your wrists to the windshield with one hand and using the other to land a harsh slap on your ass; harsh enough to make you jolt forwards from the force.

"Such a pretty ass," he coos before slapping it again, and your teeth dig into your bottom lip to muffle the sound. "And it's all for me, ain't it, Princess?"

You nod, but Eijirou spanks you again—he's looking for an answer.

"Y-Yeah, yes, all yours just—" your hips wiggle in search of his cock. Eijirou chuckles, leveling his lips with your ear.

"Want me to fill you up, Princess?"

You gasp out a yes, nodding vehemently. The redhead finds he likes you like this much better, chest rumbling with arousal. "Yeah? How bad?"

"B-Bad, please, I need t—fuck!"

Eijirou stuffs you full with one thrust, and even he needs a moment, freehand searching to hold onto your hip while his grip tightens around your wrists. You quiver under him, and he swears he can feel your gut contract around his cock, eyelids fluttering when you grind against him.

"Holy shit," Eijirou finds himself wheezing, not expecting you to be so tight. You drop your head against the cool windshield, whimpering like the pretty little thing you are, shuddering as he pulls out before ramming himself in again until he's balls deep. You scream, back arching from the angle.

And fuck. It's impossible for him to stop after that.

"Fuckin' look at you," Eijirou chuckles, body practically caging you against the seat, "Drooling all over my window like a slut. Fuck, you really know how to get a guy goin' huh?"

“Pull—pull my hair,” you request, words from his pistoning hips. Eijirou tuts and rips your hands off the window in favor of pushing your head into the seat, not making a move to yank on your hair once.

“I don’t think you’re in the right place to be making demands, Princess," he growls before his hot palm cracks against your ass, hissing from the way you tighten around him when he does.

You whine at that, pushing into him the best you can. It only spurs his hips on faster, and Eijirou lets go of your hands in favor of grabbing your face instead, groaning at the sight of the tears shining silver from the moonlight. He likes the fact that you can't do much but gasp and rock against him, your hands falling to clit to finally push yourself off the edge.

He looks at you and all he sees is his dumb little thing, who can't do anything, let alone get her car to work, and that's when Eijirou realizes he doesn't want this to be as much of a one-time thing as he initially thought.

"Gonna...gonna cum," you slur, cheek mashed flat against his window. Eijirou fucks you into the door of his truck, pace quick and bruising, as his mind thinks of all the fun you two could have together—all the fun he wants to have with you.

"Cum, Sweetheart. Make a mess of my cock and my leather seats, yeah? Show me how good I make you feel."

You tighten around his cock, tight, and that's enough to send him spiraling into an orgasm of his own, hips stuttering to a stop as he fills you up. Though his hips never stop, not until you're coming around his cock with a broken moan, curled toes digging into his car floor. He watches you catch your breath, splayed across the seat, with a sudden realization that he feels much lighter, but doubts it was the sex that did the trick.

"You fucked your anger out now?" You wheeze, breaking the silence, and Eijirou snorts.

"I—yes," he says before his eyes trail to the scratch marks around your hips and thighs. "Are you...okay?"

"Never been better," you toss your arms in the air like you're on a rollercoaster but lack the energy to scream. It's cute and it had the redhead re-evaluating everything, wondering how the day could start so shitty and yet, end so well. "Are you okay?"

His eyebrows furrow, "Why wouldn't I be?"

"I dunno," you shrug, and Eijirou finds it hard to stay focused when you look like that. "You asked me, so. Everyone needs a post-sex check-in, ya know?"

Fuck.

Fuck, yeah he's definitely keeping you.

#— 𝐄𝐈𝐉𝐈𝐑𝐎𝐔 #tw.dubcon #kirishima smut #bnha smut #mha smut #kirishima x reader

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 3 years

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Metal and Sky

https://www.patreon.com/empyreaniris?fan_landing=true

https://starr-fall-knight-rise.tumblr.com/post/182501791735/master-post

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1jzEIdDAB4omdO2JcQVMObfrhLJ5kX4ONmSsLypM1ks0/edit?usp=sharing.\

The ground shook, rumbling gently up through his feet and into his hands through the metal of f his weapon. He stood, nervously at the head of fifty warriors, all that remained of the Kalaltach (metal clan). In the early morning light, their bodies shone with that signature sheen that was the reason for their clan’s name.

The clan histories detailed the story of their emergence, standing that, once upon a time, the spirits had smithed the first Drev from a lump of silvered steel. Since then, it was not uncommon for a member of their clan to be born with metallic carapace.

Though it seemed the stories of their clan might not be long for this world.

He tightened his fist around the shaft of his weapon nervously glancing down at the double ended weapon, a six-foot shaft with two-foot blades on either end. It was an unusual weapon, one that he had been given by his mother, and her father before her. It was passed down through their family line through the greatest warriors, and during his mother’s last breaths she had given it to him.

She had died in honorable combat one week ago leaving him as their family’s protector. Not that there was really anyone to protect anymore. He was the last of what remained of his family and their tribe was dwindling quickly. The fifty warriors standing behind him were what remained of their once proud clan. It was not the death of his family or even the death of his clan that gave him such sadness. He was happy for what might happen. Either they would triumph, and stories would be written about their victory, or a stronger clan would take what remained.

No he was simply disappointed that he might not live to see the future.

Tanatach. The clan from the north. The clan of the sky.

The clan that was going to beat them. It didn’t surprise him, they had some of the best warriors on the fertile belt, and the most land and the most Drev.

As he stood staring out over the moss, he felt the volcano rumble again, felt it roll up through his feet. Glancing to his side he could see a gentle stream of ash and smoke pouring from the open mountain top painting the sky with thin ribbons of smoke. Turning his head towards the horizon he looked out over land he hand known since his childhood. He saw the coiltrees and the colorful moss, and the bulb fruit that was just ripe enough to bloom.

And he saw the approaching line of Drev, their armor glinting in the morning sun light rolling over their spearheads.

“Warriors!” Lanus called, and the Drev behind him took up his call.

“We meet them in the middle, and if we die today, we go to the spirits!”

There was a cheer behind him, one of both nerves and excitement.

Lanus bowed his head, thinking of his mother, and his father, and his sisters and his brothers. Hopefully, their spirits were with him.

Slowly, he lifted his head and looked up rising his weapon and beginning a slow jog down the small incline and towards the waiting army. The slow jog turned into a run, and that run turned into a sprint. His cape billowed behind him, and his weapon was raised as he let out a cry for battle.

In response to their movement, the other Dreb broke into a run as well, battle partners sprinting alongside each other as they came to clash under a pristine blue sky. Weapons clattered, carapace split, and cries of pain rent the air. Lanus spun, his blades cutting with precision through the air just like his mother had taught him.

He was going to make her proud.

White moss spores were kicked up into the air. Metal flashed and capes billowed past. He spun on the spot taking out two of their warriors with a single sweep of his weapon. They fell to the ground cradling severed tendons, and he turned again spearing a flanking Drev through the throat. Inside, his heart sang with the battle, and the roar of the steel. Metal clashed against metal as a blow glanced off his helm, but he turned and speared that Drev through the chest

His nerves were fading away, and as he fought he found himself in a bubble of complete calm where lived nothing but his own focus. He spun and whirled like the ash during the dark season spreading destruction everywhere he went. All around him bodies fell blood spilling in orange rivulets over the moss, pooling in the rocks and divots where they made slipping hazards for the remaining warriors, but he kept his focus.

Looking around he could see the others of his clan holding their own, pushing back a tide of enemies.

Perhaps there was a chance they would win.

At least that was what he thought until she appeared.

She was a force of nature, as tall as he was, and with gleaming purple carapace like the night sky infused with Amethyst, and when she fought she brought the storm with her, lighting and ashfall as she roared up over the rise, taking on three opponents at once, and winning. Her head was held high, and the battle cry she gave was a pure note of bloodlust that turned his blood hot.

If he was to allow her to continue, they would not win.

Backlit against the sky she turned to face him, and they locked eyes across the battlefield, gold to orange. They both knew what was coming, and so did everyone else. Groups of combatants parted as they walked towards each other, their weapons held at the ready, and it was only upon approach did he realize how young she was.

No older than him, and without battle partner.

His hands tingled numbly.

She was no older than he was.

They paused a few paces from each other and she lifted her chin to him. He did the same back, unable to avid noting her body, her carapace, her face, and her eyes.

She was beautiful.

Perhaps the most beautiful Drev he had ever seen, made all the more so as she dropped into a ready stance, which he mirrored quickly. They circled for a moment sizing each other up. The steadiness of each other’s step, the way they held their weapons, everything.

He knew her, and she knew him.

They came together with one mighty clash of weapons trying to force each other back by sheer force instead finding themselves locked tightly together unable to move. She snarled, and he responded trying to sweep her sideways, but she caught him and threw him back. He came in again weapon whirling and snapping like the flowing of water. She countered him similarly, but with even more ferocity, like the licking of fire.

Capes billowed and whipped back and forth, tore and shredded. Their feet danced over the ground as the sun grew high, and ever moment it seemed as if one of them would gain the upper hand, they were thwarted, and the fight began again. All around them lay the dead and dying. His clan slowly dwindling, whittled down to the last remining warriors. Many of the combatants had stopped to watch the last remaining fights, and Lanus, only half aware of what was going on realized something.

This was a test.

To weed out the week, separate the ripe from the rotten.

She tried taking momentary hold f his distraction, but he caught her and threw her back. Both of their sides heaved with exertion, the breathing holes at her neck expanded and contracted with great heaving gasps, frothing slightly with effort.

He backed away up a small hillock, and she followed him, their weapons shedding sparks onto the stone. He threw her back but she came again, she swept his feet out from under him, but he recovered to quickly. The battle went on and on, ferocity slowly draining to exhaustion, until neither of them could lift their weapons anymore.

They both knelt weapons locked, staring into each other’s eyes, heaving great gasping breaths, unable to move.

She was the first to speak.

“Join us, you do not need to die today. Join us and the rest of your clan will live. Your warriors will be our warriors.”

He paused looking into her face, turned to see others still doggedly fighting away, only ten or s remaining from the original fifty. He shivered, feeling pressure on his chest, and looked down to find one of her lower hands placed against his skin. Where her fingers met, he felt fire.

He turned his head back to look up into her eyes.

“Stay, with me.”

He was taken aback for a moment by her forwardness, the brashness of…. A battlefield brawl turn…. What was this? But still, despite how unorthodox, he felt his entire body go warm.

“I don’t even know your name.” He said, though his voice was more teasing than it was offended.

Her golden eyes burned, “Kazna, and you are?”

“Lanus.”

“Lanus.” She rolled the name around inside her mouth, like she was eating a coil tree berry, “ that is a name I could get used to saying.”

She disengaged their weapons then, standing and taking his arm in one of her hands turning her head to the sky and letting off the battle cry that shook him down to his bones and stoked the heat inside his body into an inferno. Across the battlefield her people stopped, pulling away from the remaining fighters who collapsed in exhaustion.

“The fight ends here! Join us, you have proven yourselves worthy.”

There was a pause, while the clan looked to him for an answer. He didn’t even have to speak, their linked arms saying more than words needed to.

Leading him forward, she brought him down through the ranks of her warriors, speaking with each of them by name, and personally, pulling aside to learn the names of his own clan, to welcome them. She was no sentinel, but he learned a great general, and as he watched her, he grew to admire her more and more.

She was a great leader, hard and harsh at times, but protective of what was hers. She was probably the most tactically minded Drev he had ever met, and it became clear that even with half of her forces, he would never have been able to win.

Kazna never did anything halfway, and when he finally took her to the circle without weapons they fought until the sun was down and neither of them could move. He had never felt such deep and abiding admiration for anyone in his life, feeling like he was the luckiest Drev in the world, when she let him hold her in his arms, or she did the same for him.

He fought by her side as her second in command for what must have been years, growing with her as her confidence only grew, and her skill increased. She was proud, and now without flaw, but neither was he.

Sitting in their small moss roofed hut, he sat holding a tiny shape in his arms. A small hand flailed up at his face, and he took it watching as the tiny fingers gently curled around his. His carapace was red like an cinderswind moon. The door across the room opened and Kazna stepped in, her chin high her golden eyes bright as she turned to look at them. The expression on her face was one of tender pride as she stepped forward.

“My two favorite Drev in the same room.” She said, walking over to kneel next to him, resting her forehead against his. Below them the tiny creature chirped softly. She turned her head down, reaching out with a finger to stroke his cheek, “So strong, and beautiful.”

“You know what day it is?” Lanus said

Kasna turned to look up at him, “How could I forget.”

Warm bubbles fizzed through his blood, “The first lunar maker…. And you know what that means?”

“We have to choose a name.” She reached out and plucked the kit from his hands lifting him into the air to examine him. The Kit opened its mouth and chirped softly before trying to nip at her hand. She laughed, “How about Dinar or Ladinar for the color of his carapace.”

Lanus tapped his foot on the ground, “No…. something more grand I think/”

“Something more grand?” She paused, “Hmm Kan…. No… Kanan.”

Noble.

Lanus stood and looked the kit over, “Kanan, yes, yes I think that is grand enough.”

She turned to beam at him holding the kit in her arm as she hurried forward wrapping her arms around him and pulling him close. Her voice was soft when she said, “This is just the beginning lanus, you and me until the sun sets and our blood paints the stones.” She pulled back eyes burning, “We will have dozens.” She spun Kanan around, and he chirped happily head lifted. “As many as we can, a Dozen tiny warriors.”

He laughed, “A dozen?”

“Or more!”

He shook his head in astonishment.

She turned to look at him, “This is all I have ever wanted Lanus. The perfect life, a strong battle partner,” She looked down, “And stronger children.”

He walked over and took her hand, “And you will have both.” He smiled

“Until the sun sets and our blood paints the rocks.”

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an-ambivalent · 3 years

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Sukuna x Uchiha! Reader

A/N: This is purely for my own self-indulgent purposes -- expanding on this scenario I was daydreaming about. You are invited along to read about my cringefest scenario but only I’m allowed to call it cringe.

Headcanon synopsis: You are amidst fighting Kabuto with Sasuke and Itachi in the Fourth Great Ninja War when the strangest thing happens. Between struggling to stay conscious from the poison that’s slowly eating you alive to trying to focus on the lengthy explanations of never-heard-before jutsus’ between the two emo brothers, the clash of such jutsus teleports you to another world during another fight. There, the line between enemies and comrades is nonexistent. However, one thing is certain: apparently you wear the same face as of a thousand-years-old demon’s deceased lover.

For clarification, you are not related to Sasuke and Itachi because that would mean this “reader” insert has fixed looks of black hair and black eyes. You are from the same clan with abilities like the Sharingan and affiliation to fire chakra nature. But fill in your blanks of whatever you want to look like.

Warnings: This has very minor spoilers about the JJK manga, specifically Sukuna’s abilities. So read at your own risk. It’s just a bunch of OP assholes trying to one up each other ig :P

~***~

The rustic smell of blood is present profoundly in the atmosphere. The heavy rain that is suddenly drenching you, and increasing the heaviness and wetness of your clothes and making them stick disgustingly to your grime skin, does nothing to waft away the awful smell. It washes off some of the dried blood from minor cuts and other injuries you had acquired during your fight with Kabuto, triggering your pain receptors in response and causing stinging and burning of pain. But for someone like you who has already been traumatised from the blood shed you have experienced as a ninja, the revolting smell of blood and the burning pain is nothing new. However, the thing that is new is the rain. It had abruptly replaced the mid-day sun that shone horribly bright. During the war, the clear and sunny weather felt like it was nature’s way to laugh at everyone’s face when they were fighting and barely hanging onto their life. The sudden darkness of the night and the open space you find yourself in, instead of the dark cave you were in just mere moments ago, has your shoulders becoming tensed and your blood flow and heart-beat going faster.

Instantly, your eyes are their notorious deep red colour presented with three black tomes. Your refined shinobi instincts kick in, and you catch the lean and spikey black-haired male that was thrown your way. There is blood trickling down his mouth, and as you held him momentarily, it was easy to deduce that some of his ribcages and other bones were broken, in addition to more serious injuries. Like how milliseconds decisions were required as a shinobi because they determined life or death, the abrupt situation you were thrown into also required it. You carelessly threw him aside as a half-naked pink-haired teen with black markings on his skin, a hole in his chest and blood dripping down his abdomen charged at you.

He aimed a vicious and strong punch to your face, which you avoided by side-stepping. When he repeated the gesture with his other arm, you blocked it with your forearm, before twisting your body at an angle, and delivering a strong kick to his stomach and sending him flying away. Using the new created distance to your advantage, you quickly made the necessary hand-signs with practiced ease, before taking a deep breath in.

“Fire Style: Great Fire Dragon Jutsu,” You exclaimed, as you exhaled a vicious and high temperature dragon head-shaped flame towards your attacker.

Sukuna, currently in possession of Itadori’s body, was internally questioning whether the very few hits that Megumi had landed previously had damaged his brain because there was absolutely no way he had seen her face. There was absolutely no way in hell that a mere human would be strong enough to land a painful kick on him. Evidently, the thought that he had seen her face had made him falter in his concentration so it was probably a lucky hit. But the giant dragon fireball that was currently heading towards his way was not going to be a lucky or a pleasant hit, if he did not counter or dodge it. Attacks with fire meant play-time for Sukuna. So, he simply waited until your attack was mere inches away from him, before he easily manipulated the flames and extinguished them. Then, without any current motivation for more fighting, he started to walk towards you.

Your eyes widened when you saw your jutsu disappear in thin air. Then, when you saw the pink-haired male began walking towards you nonchalantly, your hand automatically went to your back and you unsheathed your sword slightly. Cracks of lightning sparked through it. You stayed grounded on your fighting stance and narrowed your eyes at him, ready to strike should he attack.

The intense cold expression you wore on your face with her familiar features was so strange to see; and usually, Sukuna enjoyed fighting and taunting seemingly stuck-up people like you. Overpowering such humans before burning them to their demise -- it was such a great way to pass his time. But right now, right now, he was infuriated. He was surprised, and somewhere deep down in his dead demonic heart, was a small sense of longing and hope to regain what used to be.

His red magenta eyes dug through you in a fierce glare as he stopped just a small distance in front of you.

“Oi, who are you?”

The corner of your lips twitched up into a smirk.

“It’s customary to introduce yourself before asking for someone else’s name. Surely, you have that much manners?”

Your reply evoked an eyebrow twitch from Sukuna.

“You’re unnecessarily cocky, aren’t you? If you knew who I was, you would know what was good for you. It’s no wonder it’s so tempting to kill you humans.” He remarked easily, and took a step closer towards you.

You raised an eyebrow in question. “Me, a human? You’re talking as if you aren’t one.”

His lips stretched into a wide grin. “Huh, so you can see me and you’re attacking me, seemingly a fellow human without mercy and not actually knowing who I am or what’s going on?”

It was something about the way he was questioning and taunting you like you were a three-years-old kid that made you glare at him. But, there were no hints of deception or lies in his words. And the nagging feeling you felt churning in the pit of your stomach made you know that something was seriously wrong.

“So what are you then, a monster? That’s quite subjective though isn’t it; I kill another to protect myself or my loved one, I’m a human in their eyes. The loved ones of the one I killed in order to protect myself, I’m a monster in their eyes. There’s no difference. Although, why I’m suddenly here and not where I am meant to be... maybe only you can answer that. And if you know who I am, you would know what’s good for you. Answer me or you will regret even having the nerve to look in my eyes.” You warned, and just then, the black tomes in your crimson irises started spinning.

Your cold threats, your body bent in the certain angle it was, ready and just waiting to kill something, and the power radiating off of you -- especially your brilliant blood eyes, it sent unanticipated shivers down Sukuna’s spine. His grin widened until his canine were visible, and just before he could respond, Megumi’s shouts were heard from the distance, interrupting his intense stare off with you.

“What the hell are you doing?! Get out here civilian before he kills you!”

Your gaze switched to him and the moment your cold red eyes met Megumi’s eyes, they widened in surprise. Then, finally, the poison that was still in your bloodstream sent sharp waves of pain to your head, causing you to wince and hiss out in pain. This was not missed by the two men around you, especially Sukuna, who was watching you like a hawk.

He smirked. “Reaching your human limits already?”

You scoffed. “Hardly. But looks like our chat will need to end here.” You responded easily. Then, with a single hand-sign and your Sharingan tomes spinning more fiercely, you triggered a low-level genjutsu. Both males, who did not know better than to not look into your eyes, were easily swept into it. It was solely for a moment; however, that moment was enough time that when the world around them stopped spinning, there was not even a single clue of you ever being there was even left.

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #sukuna x reader #sukuna fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fanfiction #jjk imagines #jjk scenarios #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #megumi x reader #fushiguro x reader #jjk x you #ambivalent writes #uchiha x reader #sukuna scenarios

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amerrierworld · 3 years

Text

Babysitter (pt 9)

Thor (Ragnarok) - fanfiction

Pt 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8

Summary: A Loki interlude.

Characters: Hela, Loki

Word Count: 2,111

Warnings: Idk, swearing?

Loki was incredibly annoyed at the current situation.

He’d woken up on a random, clunky spaceship with a pounding head and a bruised neck. He remembered the world going blank and being quite certain that he’d been dead until, frustratingly so, his lungs gasped for the most painful breath he’d ever taken.

A janky pirate ship had snatched him from floating in space amongst the debris, stripped him of his armour -no doubt to sell or melt down into other knick knacks- and left him in the back amongst the cargo. They’d presumed he was dead, so when he had woken up, they had a bit of a shock.

Not a word was comprehensible, Loki couldn't understand whatever gibberish language they spoke, so he ignored them and shuffled to their food supply. That got him a whack on his back from a whip and a kick to the back of the knees.

Trying to take back his armour also earned him a few bruises. They didn’t seem very dangerous, but quite a nuisance.

Amongst the cargo he found familiar debris that struck an icy chord inside Loki. There were piles of Asgardian clothing- ripped and filthy, but Asgardian nonetheless. Bags with very few belongings, and metal scraps of the ship they had been on.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out that the remainder of the ship of refugees was probably lost. When the pirates began to beat him again for rummaging through their stuff, a rusty old pipe amongst the stolen goods helped quiet them down immensely.

With his kidnappers knocked out, Loki scarfed down what measly rations they had and set course for Earth at light speed -well, the closest speed they got to light speed which was more like a quick paced jog.

He tied up the crew and tossed them in the back, and lounged in the cockpit as the ship traveled on autopilot, picking scraps of food from between his teeth.

Communications on this ship were absolute garbage, he concluded. There was barely any signal and he couldn’t figure out where the closest planet was. So, he took a nap, ate some more food, and tried not to think too much about the harrowing experience of Thanos choking him to death.

Hours later, they entered a very familiar atmosphere. Loki let the ship crash-land, grabbed a bag of few supplies and hopped out just before they hit the ground.

He marched on through the thicket of trees where they landed. Angry shouts that were no doubt curse words echoed from the smoking ship as he left them behind and tried to gather his bearings.

An old cabin was the first building he saw. With a rusty dagger at the ready, he inspected the home around the back, looking for a vehicle he could take, something to get him moving faster than his legs, when suddenly a high pitched shriek nearly shattered his eardrums.

A young girl, no older than six, was staring at him with big brown eyes. Rain boots covered in mud, an aged stuffy in her hands. Loki put his finger to his lips, dreading that he was going to have to kill the girl before she gave him away or screamed bloody murder.

“Daddy! There’s an Avenger in the yard!” she sped off towards a shed, where there was a light on inside. Loki’s shoulders slumped in disappointment. Whatever outcome he was expecting, this was by far the worst.

“I’m not- fuck.”

He shoved the dagger away and out of sight and stomped towards the shed, fuming with annoyance. He was about to go off at the man for letting his daughter talk to random strangers and how he certainly was not an Avenger, but the man in question had a large saw in hand and about 200 pounds of muscle to carry, so he snapped his mouth shut.

“Oh, hello there,” he said, his daughter bouncing about the workshop. “What brings one of you all the way out here?”

“And where exactly is out here?” Loki asked.

“Canada! What, you superheroes never been to Canada before? Always hanging around New York, eh? Are you taking a trip or something?”

“No. I, uh, crash-landed here.”

“From space?” the girl piped up, gawking.

“Yes, from space,” Loki said through gritted teeth. “Fighting angry aliens.”

“I told you, Daddy! He’s a hero!”

“I bet you’re trying to find your way to America, then? Lord knows why, there’s all kinds of weird things happening around town nowadays.”

“What do you mean?”

“Half the world’s gone! Poof! Just like that, some alien business I bet.”

“Are you going to save us from them?” his daughter asked again. Loki sighed.

“I’ll try my best. Now, can you please show me how to get to New York as fast as possible?”

The lumberjack’s husband took Loki and his daughter in his jeep and drove a merry long way to the nearest airport. On the way, the little girl asked him all sorts of questions about the Avengers, that he could only half-answer.

“Is it true Thor is super powerful?”

“Well. He's not that powerful. He just uses a hammer. Anyone with a hammer can use it as a weapon and suddenly be considered powerful.”

“I wish I had a super powerful hammer. Then my brothers would stop teasing me so much.”

“Hey,” her second father softly scolded.

“They’re mean!”

“Sibling feuds? I know the feeling,” Loki muttered.

“Do you have siblings, Mr. Avenger?”

“Sure do,” he smiled wryly. “Absolute bullies.”

“Me too!”

“Hey now, let our guest settle down a bit,” her dad said. “She gets a little excited around new people, so sorry.”

“It’s no problem.”

“The local airport’s just up here. It’ll take you to Detroit, and then you gotta get a connection flight to New York.”

“Thank you,” Loki said, genuinely.

“Why are you going to New York, Mr. Avenger?”

“To find my siblings,” Loki sighed. “At least, one of them should still be there.”

“But they’re mean to you?”

“Yeah,” Loki pondered as the car came to a stop. “But they’re family. I suppose.”

A few cunning lies and disguises later, Loki was suddenly landing in New York, amidst chaos. It had been a few days since he’d woken up, and apparently a few days since what they call the ‘Blip’. Humans clearly don’t like having their realities altered.

Your home was abandoned. Alfred didn't even greet Loki at the door, and no amount of pulling and prying opened it for him. The lights were off, and he feared the worst.

It wasn’t until he was in the streets and overhead muttering about some crazy goth lady terrorizing a nearby street that Loki thought he had finally found something.

He marched down the street until, to his surprise, he found Hela sitting hunched on the side walk, scowling and daring anyone to come close to her. She looked incredibly tired and disheveled, but her eyes were clear and angry, and recognized her idiot brother immediately.

“What the hell brought you back here?” Hela snarled.

“A toddler’s wisdom, if you’ll believe it,” Loki said, ignoring her glare as he sat down next to her.

“You look like shit.”

“Thanks. So do you.”

Hela grumbled.

“Have you eaten?”

“Since when did you become Mother? I don't need your help.”

“Really?” Loki picked up a filthy scoop from a pile of three ice cream tubs that were fully devoured. He dangled it from his fingertips for a moment, pulling a face. “I think you do.”

“You’re supposed to be dead.”

“Glad to see you too, sister.”

Silence. Hela really did look like shit, Loki noted. Her hair was mussed, and there were rips and broken pieces in her armour, reminiscent of the time they’d met. She had to be weak not to bother fixing it with her powers, or was just too preoccupied to even think to fix it.

“Where’s Y/N?” Loki asked.

“Beats me.”

“Did you kill her?”

Hela’s eyes snapped to his, a sudden fire in them. “How dare you say that?”

“Well, her home is abandoned and no one answered the door, and you’re here cowering like a criminal. One makes conclusions.”

Something changed in her expression, and she turned her body to face him. “Abandoned?”

Loki frowned, “yes. Didn't you know?”

“No- I.. I’ve been here, the last time I saw her...”

Hela jumped to her feet, nearly kicking Loki in the process. “That bastard, he took her, didn’t he? Him and his awful, forsaken pieces of shit he calls friends.”

“Who?”

“Our darling brother,” she spat. “He came in and- and threatened me, and then took her from me.”

She paced in front of him, green fire trailing behind her heels, hot with anger. She had expected you to come find her, take her back to your home, make her feel safe. But when you never came she had assumed you had abandoned her. Now, knowing Thor had taken you instead, filled her with rage.

“Where does your little posse hang out, hm? Some supposed secret lair? A great big castle in the sky?”

Loki blinked at her, at her sudden outbursts, at the scared glances from passerbys, and didn’t know what to say.

“Fine then, I’ll get her myself,” she growled, turning away from him.

Loki nearly let her walk away, let her walk into whatever doom she was getting herself into, but with a groan and a mad realization, he knew she was the only one he could rely on right now.

“Wait,” he said, reluctantly, hurrying after her and grabbing her arm. “You can’t just go running off. Tell me what happened.”

Hela spat at his feet. “I don’t need to tell you anything.”

“You care about her, don't you? Y/N? Why else would you want to ‘rescue’ her from our brother?”

“Be silent,” she hissed.

“No, no, I’m right, aren’t I? You care for her, but you messed up, and now you have no one on your side. That’s why you left, and that’s why Thor had to take her.”

Hela yanked her arm away before Loki could see her face, but he knew what she felt; remorse, and loss.

“Tell me.”

And so, reluctantly, knowing she had no other choice, Hela sat him down, this time on an actual park bench rather than the ground. She told him what had happened, how her mistrust had turned to affection for you, and how Thanos had destroyed everything in the end, and how the Avengers had fought her out of fear.

“I know the feeling,” Loki agreed, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, watching an elderly lady feed a bunch of pigeons as if nothing drastic had happened to the world the past few days.

“And now I don't know where she is, and she probably hates me, but who am I to blame her for that?”

“If I know anything about Y/N, is that she cares about everyone, but it takes a lot more to win her love. She doesn’t hate you. She’s just afraid. I mean, you did after all break her window and run off into nowhere.”

Hela stayed quiet, made an annoyed sound in her throat, and looked away.

“I’m starving, how did you get all that ice-cream? Why not an actual meal? Or were you just eating your feelings?”

“Y/N doesn’t like it when I kill people, so it was either massacre the street or steal their dairy products,” Hela bristled.

“Fair enough.”

“Now what, hm? You come out here, seemingly from the dead, chastise me for messing up, and now judge my diet? What do you really want, Loki?”

“Not sure, to be perfectly honest,” Loki said. “I thought I was dead, and then I wasn’t. Frankly, my priorities are shifting.”

“And what is your current priority?”

“Getting you back to Y/N so you stop moping around and fix this.”

“And how do you suppose we do that?”

Loki grinned, standing up. His armour shimmered and regained its full glamour; horned helmet and deep green cloak.

“Taking notes from me, are we?” Hela grumbled. Loki glared at her.

“I was wearing this look long before you got here. Now, get up, we’re going to infiltrate the Avengers and give you your romantic happily-ever-after so you stop being such a pain in everyone’s neck.”

“You think we’ll just be able to get in? You really are as mad as Father was.”

“I’ve broken into quite a few places over the years, I’ll have you know. I’m the God of Mischief after all.”

“Am I supposed to be impressed?” Hela stood, her own armour strengthening again.

“Shut it.”

A/N: Loki is not dead! I know he’s technically alive in an alternate universe or whatever.. but I wanted the Odin Trio to be together sooooo here we are. Let me know what you think!!

taglist: @midnight-lestrange @cheerfullyvenomous @germansarechill@gaylorrds @amii-nyc @waitingfortheendtocome @novakitten0901@marvels-writings

#hela #hela x reader #hela/reader #hela x you #hela odinsdottir #thor #thor ragnarok #thor ragnarok fanfiction #loki #loki odinsin #marvel #mcu #marvel fanfiction #cate blanchett #tom hiddleston #best siblings amirite #wlw #lgbt #merry writes

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afewmarvelousthoughts · 3 years

Text

Falling Ch. 8

Master List: @afewmarvelousthoughtsadmin

Pairing: Bucky X Reader [and a few more to come]

Summary: For a moment you had something good, something wonderful. But moments pass. Now, left with nothing but the ashes of a life and a love you fought so hard for, you find yourself in a free fall. Who will you be once you hit the bottom? [Sequel to Only For A Moment but can be read independently.]

Warnings: Loss, grief, drug/alcohol abuse, violence

A/N: I don’t have words for this one but like... yeah...

TAGS ARE OPEN

Months passed. Your rage did not.

And you didn’t want it to.

Anger was simple, singular. It didn’t tear at you like your grief.

So you fed it. Letting it blot out the pain of one year without his touch, or his smile, or his laugh.

Pain was useless. Anger was a tool.

Rocket often found jobs for you all that mostly harmed the powerful and, when possible, helped those who needed it. You weren’t sure if this Robin Hood-ing was intentional but you didn’t question it, knowing the person on the receiving end deserved what they got, justified your brutality.

That brutality got results. And, subsequently, was gaining you a fast reputation.

It started before your brief stay back on earth. Rocket’s crew apparently had a fair amount of recognition, and it wasn’t missed that most were gone, replaced with some human--even though most had doubts due to your abilities--and Thanos’ sadistic daughter. Now you were challenging Nebula’s title for ‘most vicious woman in the galaxy.’

You didn’t mind and neither did your shipmates. This was the kind of rep that served up bigger paydays. And the side steps and cautious glances felt good, it felt like protection for you and those you loved.

As good as it felt, it wasn’t enough. None of it was.

The truth of it was that all the fighting and fucking and drugs and drink in the universe wouldn’t be enough to sate the hunger in you. You could swallow it all whole and it wouldn’t fill the void.

But you’d promised Bucky that you’d keep going. So that’s what you were doing.

At the present moment, the only place you should be going was to a medic.

The Kelozyn woman grinned at you, her leonine features gleaming with sweat. Her tongue ran across her sharp front teeth and you wondered if her species preferred living prey.

“Getting tired, Terran?!” She goads, circling you.

Getting. Tired was a state of being. You spit blood onto the ground, your breath billowing in the cold Contraxian air.

As you assess her, you do a little math. If you lost this one, or forfeited like you probably should, you’d be out most of your cut from the last job plus some. Tack on the medic fees and, well, thankfully you didn’t have to pay rent on the Benatar.

She charges you and all thoughts of forfeit flee your mind as adrenaline and anger take their place.

For a moment, there is only this. Nothing exists outside the sound of your breath, your heart beating in your ears, the blood and sweat on your tongue. There is no room for thoughts that don’t pertain to your next move, to reading your opponents body language. Just this.

Her mistake was assuming you were beaten down by four other rounds, ready to give up. Her mistake was assuming you were weak.

A missed swing opens her up to a dislocated shoulder. The pain distracts her enough for you to land a kick to her knee. As soon as she rights herself, her attempt to attack gives you the leverage you need to toss her over your head.

She lands flat on her back, wheezing and disoriented.

You place a boot on her neck, her one useful arm scrabbling at your ankle.

“Yield,” you huff.

She does and the crowd roars.

This is why you did this. Not the crowd, or the money. No matter if it was a job or in the ring or in a back alley, you did it for the victory. The reminder that you could win, that you had the strength and ability to protect what little you had left.

It wasn’t enough. But it was something.

Someone presses a bottle in your hand and you drink, not bothering to check what it was. The cheap liquor tastes like bad bourbon but it does ease the throb in your bruised ribs just a bit.

The announcer bellows at the crowd, already trying to find another challenger and elicit more bets from those eager to burn through their credits on a little blood shed.

But you’re done. As you make your way to cash out someone steps into the ring.

She ties her blonde hair up into a ponytail as she announces, “I’ll have a go.”

Carol saunters up to you in a white tank and tactical pants, almost identical to your own though notable missing smears of dirt and blood, and plucks the bottle from your hand, taking a deep drink.

The announcer practically vibrates with glee, “Do we think she knows what she’s in for folks!?”

“This hardly seems fair, Danvers,” you take your bottle back.

She grins, “When I win I’ll buy you a drink.”

“You’ll buy me at least two,” you finish the bottle, tossing it back into the crowd.

It took all of five minutes for her to have you pinned.

The disappointed crowd groaned.

“Well, well, looks like Lady Death’s own gatherer met her match tonight!” The announcer bellows. You’d been called many things but that was a new one.

Carol extends a hand and pulls you up, “Meet at the bar?”

“Sure,” you grumble. Slinging your pack over your shoulder you can already feel just how much you’re going to regret this in a few hours.

“On the house,” the bartender sets a mug full of something frothy in front of you. You nod in thanks, finishing half in two deep gulps.

Carol gives your back a firm pat as she sidles up beside you. You grimace, the bruise left from the hard kick you’d taken between your shoulder blades in the first fight already screaming.

“Sorry,” she says, taking the seat next to you. “Thought I was buying?”

“On the house,” you say, taking another drink. “Considering the money I made them tonight it’s the least they can do.” Not that it made up for the loss.

Carol plunks down a stack of credits next to you, the little silvery cards glinting in the dim light. You cast her a sideways glance, finishing your drink.

“It was a little unfair,” she says with a smile.

“Mhm,” you pick them up counting. “Still took a cut though,” you say with mock seriousness.

“Hey, I did win,” she nudges your shoulder.

“You know,” you tuck the credits into your pocket, “we could probably run a pretty good hustle.”

“Not my style,” she flags the bartender who plops two more mugs before you both.

“Do all captains hate fun?”

She smirks as she takes a drink, “Has nothing to do with that. I just don’t need to hustle when I know I’ll win.”

“Cocky,” you start on your second drink.

“Is it cocky if I’m right?”

“Fair,” you laugh a little, holding your throbbing side.

She downs the rest of her drink and looks around, “Can we go somewhere slightly less…”

“Covered in sweat and blood?”

“Yeah.”

You shrug, “This is Contraxia. I feel like it’s either sweat and blood or sweat and-”

“I got a room, if we’d rather-”

“Cute, you think that’s better.”

“Just like any hotel, I’d prefer not to think about it.” You can’t help but laugh again, ignoring the pain.

“Something away from the teeming masses sounds good.”

“And the drinks are better,” Carol says.

“I’ll hold you to that.”

Outside, the frigid air stung your skin but it felt refreshing, a bit cleaner than the cold air of the bar. You shrug on your black coat, shoving your freezing hands into your pockets. Carol still wore only her tank, the bag with her uniform slung loosely over her shoulder.

“Do you ever get cold?” You ask as your breath plumes.

“Not really,” her skin pulses with a warm glow.

Carol opens the door to one of the nicer hotels and you step inside. The entry was warm, and didn’t carry any questionable smells. Even the elevator you step into seemed relatively clean.

She catches your questioning gaze, “Owner owes me a favor.”

Just like on earth, being a hero didn’t exactly pay the bills. But almost everywhere you went, Carol--or rather Captain Marvel--knew someone and that someone likely owed her their life. May not be as reliable as having cash on hand but it wasn’t a bad way to get around.

The wall of windows that greeted you when the elevator spit you out into her penthouse suite looked out over the glowing neon mess of Contraxia and the icy mountains beyond. From here the city looked like a bizarre, debaucherous, snowglobe.

“As promised,” Carol holds out a glass of shimmering blue liquid. You drop your bag by your feet and accept it.

Whatever it was danced over your tongue, fizzing without being carbonated. The taste was floral, but not sweet, and had a tang to it that reminded you of something you couldn’t name. Best of all, it was strong. Warmth spread through your limbs as the constant humm of your power fell completely silent.

You both finish your drinks in silence, soaking in both the view and the peace.

Finally you ask, “Did you catch what the announcer called me?”

“The Lady Death thing?” She grabs your glass for a refill as you carefully lower your throbbing body onto the couch.

“Yeah.”

She takes a seat across from you, “You’ve been running out here for almost a year and you haven’t heard of Lady Death yet?”

You had. Death on most planets was personified as a woman with many cultures worshiping her or at the very least honoring her in some way.

“Of course,.” you take a drink. “The whole gatherer thing though…”

“Ah,” she rests her feet on the small circular table in front of her. “It’s like, someone or something that sends people to death but isn’t exactly death itself.” A chill crawls down your spine, chasing away the warmth of the drink.

“So, like a reaper,” the word, the title Hydra blessed you with, tastes bitter on your tongue.

“Yeah,” Carol nods. “Pretty close.”

You finish your drink in one gulp and rise, “Thanks for the drinks.” Holding out your hand, your bag flies from across the room to you.

“What? You’re leaving?” She stands, placing herself between you and the door. “I mean it’s not a pleasant comparison but you’ve been on a bit of a tear. Don’t let it ruin your night.”

“It’s not.”

She crosses her arms over her chest, looking you up and down. “At least take a long bath, you’re still bloody and your body-”

“I’m fine.”

“Y/N,” Carol grabs your arm as you walk past her.

Anger flares in your chest as you look from her hold on you to her concerned gaze. Whatever that anger translated to in your own expression was enough to make her release you, stepping back.

“Maybe, you should take some shore leave. Go home for a bit. Give folks out here time to cool off and they’ll stop thinking of you as-”

Your eyes narrow, “Why do you care?” Her head tilts to the side in a wordless question. “Why do you care what they call me?”

“Why don’t you?”

“Because, they aren’t wrong.” It felt like the truest thing you’d said in a long time.

Out here among planets you’d never imagined existing you’d allowed the beast that had always been inside you to come out to play. It bared it’s bloody fangs and the people saw you for what you were, understood it’s true name.

Reaper.

Hydra had simply tried to bring out something that was already there. But they’d done it for their own gain. This time you’d take the title, in all it’s bloody glory, and it would be your own.

You walk past Carol, reaching for the door.

“Y/N.”

You pause. It’s long enough for Carol to block your exit.

“Come on,” she slips a finger under the strap of your bag, teasing it off your shoulder, “don’t leave.” She closes the small distance between you, close enough now that you could feel the ever-present warmth of her. “At least take a shower.”

When you don’t respond, she leans in, lips almost brushing the shell of your ear, “Stay.”

In a flash your hand wraps around her throat, pushing her into the door with a hard thud. Light flares briefly in her deep brown eyes as a wicked little grin plays on her lips.

You press your body flush to hers, forcing her thighs apart with your own.

The pink tip of her tongue darts over her bottom lip, teasing you, daring you. Taking the bait is too easy.

To call this kiss hungry wouldn’t be right. Hunger implied a level of desire you struggled to tap into these days for most things. No, this kiss was a vicious, gluttonous, thing. Something to have because it was presented.

Your tongue rolls over hers, your teeth grab her bottom lip and tug.

Carol returns your fervor, grinding against your knee.

There was no pretense here. Both of you knew there was someone else you'd rather touch, a different kiss that would truly satisfy. But you wouldn’t starve yourselves for the sake of your longing.

Holding her in place by her throat you pull away, “Rain check.” You lean in and flick your tongue over her open lips.

“Please tell me you’re joking,” she pants as you release her.

“Nope,” your bag floats up to your hand.

She doesn’t fight you as you push her aside and step out, leaving her slack jawed and frustrated.

You’d make it up to her. For now though, all you wanted, the only thing you hungered for, was to be alone.

A few weeks later you come to consciousness in the dank lower levels of an abandoned building, your ears ring, vision blurring in and out of focus. Sticky blood coated the side of your head, it felt cool as rivulets ran down your cheek.

This job was supposed to be stupid easy. Too good to be true, easy. Now it was pretty clear that the old cliche applied even on some far flung piece of shit planet.

After blinking away the fog, you make out the blaster leveled at Rocket. Fear and relief flood his features as he realizes that you were not, in fact, dead.

The telltale humm of the weapon is the first sound that breaks through the pounding in your head.

No. You would not lose one more friend.

Without you having to fully form the thought, your power latches onto the woman before Rocket--not abnormal since your fight against Thanos, since you tried to save Bucky. It sinks into her unfamiliar anatomy, seeking something to break. You don’t care if you kill her or only manage to incapacitate her, all that matters is that you stop her.

A jolt runs through your body, electric, intoxicating…

Hungry.

You’d lived with the hunger the stones left in you for over a year now. Had gotten used to it. Most days you even forgot about it. Now that hunger howled to be slaked.

The woman shudders, blaster slipping from her hand. Rather, it slips from the place where her hand had been.

Understanding comes too late. You feel the fabric of her unravelling, those points of light and energy snuffing out bit by bit.

Just like Bucky.

And you cannot stop it.

No, that wasn’t right.

This was not like Bucky--not some force beyond your control tearing someone away from you--this was somehow yours, and you didn’t want to stop it. Something in you wanted this, yearned for it in the far recesses of your being.

Darkness deeper than any shadow seeps from widening cracks in her body like smoke, billowing from the space where her hand once was. Merciless black tendrils curl around her, consuming her until there is nothing left but a ringing in your ears and a brief moment of utter calm.

The sound of Rocket’s ragged breathing fills the room, echoing around you. In the pause between his breaths you almost swear something whispered.

Again and again you think you hear it, don’t quite catch it. Something in the silence, in the dark.

Oblivion.

Rocket’s breath.

Oblivion.

Panic--mad, wild, terrible panic--threatens to blot out whatever sense or sanity remained in your mind as you sit paralyzed, unable to ignore the sound. You’d thought the word in a dream, heard it back on earth when your power ate away at a bottle of liquor, that same dark nothingness hovering around the broken glass.

Your conversation with Carol returns. How you’d thought people simply saw the monster in you. How you thought it was a monster you understood, one you could name and tame and use for your own gain.

Idiot, you chastise yourself.

“Are the two of you taking a nap?!” Nebula bellows on your comms. The anger in her tone pulls you back from the edge you felt your mind toeing.

You meet Rocket’s wide eyes for a breath before he nods, a kind of calm you envied descending over him.

“Got held up,” he responds. “Where are you?”

As soon as you’re back on the ship you head straight for your room without a word to the others.

Out of habit you reach for the bottle by your bed and pause before bringing the mouth to your lips.

There was no need. No tremor in your hand. No pain in your body or your mind. Your power, the aching want the stones left in you, the physical impact of the fight… All of it was silent.

This was distinctly different from the times you’d brushed against that vast nothing, that oblivion. Those times had left you a little sated, the constant storm in you soothed, even if only for a few moments.

This was not that.

Because there was something else missing.

Your grief.

A chill crawls up your spine, spreading gooseflesh over your body. The utter wrongness of everything turning your stomach. You set the bottle down with a shaky hand.

No matter how good it felt to not ache for him, you didn’t want it to end. The ache mattered, meant there was something worth losing.

“Bucky,” you whisper his name like a prayer. “James.” The taste of his name on your tongue brings back a tickle of the familiar ghost of your mourning.

“Bucky, I’m scared.” Saying it felt like letting out a breath held for too long.

It was as though that confession was some secret code. Bit by bit you feel it all come back, the pain and sorrow, your fear and longing, the unyielding hunger and storm rooted in your power.

From under your pillow you pull out the shirt you keep tucked there, one of Bucky’s. It still retained the barest trace of his smell.

Pressing it to your nose you curl into the fetal position on the bed.

You were upholding your end of the deal, you were still going on as he’d requested. You just weren’t sure where the road you were on was leading…

Or what it would cost.

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#bucky x reader #carol danvers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #marvel fanfic #captain marvel x reader

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impalas-r-important · 3 years

Text

Love of my Life - (11) Family Remains

Summary: Hunting has been a constant the past month, but the next case Dean finds takes an unexpected turn.

Warnings: Show level violence.

A/N: This is a rough rewrite of S4 E11. As always, I love hearing feedback from everyone! Let me know if you want a tag.

Series Masterlist

“Stratton, Nebraska – Farm town. A man gets hacked to death in a locked room inside a locked house, no signs of forced entry.” Dean did his best to ignore Sam’s comment about hunting non-stop for the past month. You were all exhausted, Dean included, but he had to move from job to job to keep his mind off of the never-ending-nightmare memories of his recent trip to hell. He had only opened up about it briefly, so you and Sam did your best to respect his wishes and move from one hunt to the next. Truthfully, you didn’t mind it so much. This was pretty much your life before you met the Winchesters, but at least now you had a team to do it with.

“Sounds like a ghost.” Sam grumbled.

“Yes, it does.” Dean agreed, implying that you’d be heading there ASAP. Sam let out a sigh and fell backwards in the backseat. Dean looked to the passenger seat at you, waiting for any objections but you understood his need to keep moving. You met his gaze with a half-smile and touched your hand to his arm, giving a small squeeze.

The impala roared down the winding dirt driveway leading you to the old farmhouse. Dean expertly picked the lock, pushing the door open to let you and Sam in ahead of him.

“Boy, three bedrooms, two baths and one homicide. This place is gonna sell like hotcakes.” Dean snarked. Sam chuckled and led the way into the kitchen where Dean found a sealed hole in the wall.

“It’s probably a dumbwaiter. All these old houses had them.” Sam commented.

“Know it all.” Dean immediately responded.

“What?” Sam questioned.

“What?” Dean tried to play dumb.

“You said…”

“What?”

“Never mind.” Sam frowned and continued searching.

Dean turned to you and gave a shit-eating smirk. You were more than happy to see Dean teasing Sam. It meant he wasn’t beating himself up inside at that moment.

The search of the house didn’t reveal much other than a doll head in one of the closets, sitting patiently as if it were waiting for you. You were cut short by a moving truck pulling up outside. You and the boys approached the family under the pretenses of being fake county code enforcers and were able to persuade the family to stay at a motel for the night because of asbestos in the walls, buying yourselves a little more time.

Much to your chagrin, the family had decided to go back to the house and start moving in. Night had fallen and you and the boys waiting in the car just outside trying to figure out a plan. The three of you sprang into action when you heard yelling coming from inside. The kids had been hearing and seeing things, and just as Dean was trying to convince them to leave, the power cut out. Cries from the dog led everyone outside where the words “too late” were painted on the moving truck in blood. The family was spooked enough that it took little convincing for them to go back to the motel. You ushered them to the cars, only to find the air let out of all the tires and the weapons stolen from the back of the impala.

“What the hell kind of ghost slashes tires and steals weapons?” You thought out loud. The screams of the daughter turned your attention to the side of the yard, where a disheveled, dirty girl was standing, staring at all of you.

Dean hurried everybody inside and drew a large salt circle, instructing them to get inside. The dad of the family wasn’t buying the “ghosts are real” storyline and tried to get his family out. You quickly stopped them and convinced them to stay.

Dean and the uncle, Ted, were having a power struggle of sorts, and you did your best to diffuse the situation, letting Sam go check out the attic, while you and Dean stayed with the family. While Ted was being an ass to you and Dean, a closet door slowly creaked open, getting everyone’s attention. A pale, skinny, dirty girl slowly revealed herself and made her way towards you. Her hair was ratted and broken at the ends, covering her face like curtains. Rotten black and yellow teeth peeked through her evil smile, complementing the blood stains on her night gown. You could smell the death on her from across the room.

“Everyone stay calm and inside the circle. She can’t get in here.” You stood defensively in front of the family as Dean held an iron fire poker at the ready. The old floorboards ached with every step the feral girl took towards you as she brandished a knife that was hiding in her sleeve. Something about this seemed off to you, and you were sure Dean felt it too. She slowly raised her foot up and over the line of salt and your stomach dropped. This wasn’t a ghost at all. This was a real girl. Crap.

“Y/N, get them out of here!” Dean yelled as he dodged a swing of the knife.

“Go, go! Now!” You herded the family outside, worrying what would happen to Dean. “Stay here!” You ran back inside, just in time to see Sam shine the flashlight on the girl, causing her to scream and run.

You, Sam and Dean all ran outside to the family. “It’s just a girl?” You couldn’t believe it. This wasn’t something you’d ever experienced.

“It’s not just a girl. It’s psycho Nel. I’m telling you man – humans.” Dean rolled his eyes and looked around.

“Who is she then?” Sam asked.

“Maybe it’s the daughter of that first guy killed? Rebecca?” Dean suggested. You had spoken to the cleaning woman who told you that she had killed herself in the attic.

“She’s way too young to be Rebecca.” You added.

Dread washed over everyone when you all realized that the little boy, Danny was missing. You and Dean exchanged worried looks and you swallowed hard. The family began to freak out, but Dean was able to talk some sense into them. He told them to hide in the shed, but the father and uncle wanted to be out looking with you. Sam asked you to stay behind with the mom and daughter to protect them. You begrudgingly agreed.

“Who are you people?” The daughter asked you.

You sighed. “Like Dean said, we hunt ghosts.”

“Are they going to find Danny?”

“Yeah, they are. Sam and Dean are the best at what they do. Everything’s going to be okay.” You did your best to comfort her.

Dean knocked on the door after not too much longer, entering with Sam and the Dad.

“Where’s Ted?” The mom asked.

The silence answered her question. The girl had killed him in the house. Dean exited the shed, clearly needing some space. You knew he blamed himself for Ted’s death.

“What’s that?” You asked, referring to a book that Sam was reading.

“It’s Rebecca’s diary. I found it in the attic. I think I have something.”

“I’ll go get Dean.”

You walked outside to hear Dean’s conversation with the dad, who had stepped out for some air. Dean was promising that he would find Danny, no matter what the cost. You knew that easily translated into Dean being willing to give his life to find the boy.

“Dean.” You interrupted their conversation. “We’ve got something.” He nodded and followed you into the house with Sam.

“I finished reading Rebecca’s diary. Pretty sure that girl is Rebecca’s daughter.” Sam informed.

“Rebecca had a kid?” Dean asked as he moved boxes around, blocking one of the doors closed.

“It’s all she talks about. Being pregnant – being ashamed of being pregnant. Her dad said he would lock the baby up after it was born.”

“Why would he say that?” Dean questioned.

“Oh, gosh. Please don’t tell me it was his…” You picked up on Sam’s uncomfortable body language easily.

“Oh. Gross.” Dean said when he picked up on what was happening.

Brainstorming led Dean to believe that the dumbwaiter probably led to where Danny was being held. He busted the wall down in the kitchen, uncovering a drop to a dark opening.

“I’m gonna go down there and find Danny. Y/N, why don’t you go back out to the shed with the mom and daughter.” Dean ordered.

“Excuse me?” You shot back. His words were degrading, even if that wasn’t his intention.

Dean pulled you to the side and spoke in a low, calming voice. “I’m not sidelining you. But someone needs to be out there protecting them and you’re the best one here in a knife fight if that hillbilly bitch goes after them.”

You could tell he was being sincere and didn’t mean any harm to you. You grabbed a large kitchen knife and made your way outside while Dean looked for Danny in the basement.

The mom and daughter were holding each other by the back wall of the shed when you walked in, giving them a jump. You held your hands in the air. “Just me. They think they might know where Danny is.”

Your words gave them a light at the end of this dreadful night.

Not even five minutes after you had joined them in the shed, the back window was smashed forcing the mom and daughter to the other side of the shed where a knife slashed at them through a slot in between the wooden panels.

“Get behind me!” They ran to the most protected corner of the shed and you stood in front of them, knife at the ready. The incestuous girl snuck her way into the shed through an old trap door near the bottom of the wall and you ran at her, catching her off balance and knocking her down. You quickly disarmed her by kicking the knife from her hand and then jumped on her, slashing her throat with one fell swoop.

You moved the worktable that was blocking the door and opened it. “Let’s get you out of here.” You blocked the dead body as best as you could, gesturing towards the exit. The boys met you outside and Danny ran over to his mom. The family held each other, sobbing in a mixture of relief and terror.

“There was a brother.” Sam informed you. You quickly looked between Sam and Dean, concerned that this hellish night wasn’t over yet.

“I took care of him.” Dean answered your not-yet-asked question.

The sun rose as Dean had finished fixing the tires of the Impala. You and Sam had spent the night gathering the stolen weapons from the trunk. You said your goodbyes to the family and took off before the police could show up.

Dean parked the car near the pillars of an overpass and the three of you got out to eat, though none of you were very hungry. Sam excused himself to lay down in the back seat, leaving you and Dean in a pensive silence.

“You okay?” Dean asked.

You kicked some rocks around as you leaned against the concrete barrier. It was gloomy and overcast, matching how you felt inside.

“I’ve never killed a human that wasn’t also some kind of monster...” Killing that girl was weighing heavier on you than you expected. “That was so messed up. The whole situation.”

“Yeah.” Dean set his untouched burger down on the barrier next to him. “It’s just going to get crazier with the whole apocalypse starting.”

A few silent moments passed between you two.

“Why are you putting up with all this?” Dean asked bluntly.

“All of what?”

“You still want to hang around with us after everything? After knowing that Sam drinks demon blood, and that I tortured people in hell? Why are you even still here?” Dean refused to look at you, and you knew that this was him pushing you away to try to protect you.

“When I look at you, I don’t see a damaged man who’s been to hell and back. I see Dean Winchester, the hero. You’re the boogeyman’s boogeyman. All the little monster kids ask their parents to check for you under the bed before they go to sleep. I heard your conversation with that dad last night. You were willing to give up your life to find a boy you had never met and will probably never see again. But that kid isn’t the exception. You’d do that for anyone, wouldn’t you? Dean, you’re the guy who’s going to save the world.” Dean kept his eyes fixed on the same spot on the ground, so you continued. “But even more than that, you’re the guy who keeps a box of Milkyways under the front seat in the car because you know they’re my favorite. You’re the guy who watches Jeopardy on tv when you think Sam and I are asleep, and you get every answer right because you’re brilliant. You’re the guy who warms up my side of the bed while I’m brushing my teeth because you know how cold I get at night, and you’re the only person in this entire world who has ever made me feel like I’m worth something. So why am I still here? Because you’re the love of my life, Dean Winchester. I love everything about you. Including your habit of taking bites of my food every time I’m not looking. Yeah, I noticed.” That last sentence pulled a small smile across his mouth.

You looked into the car to see Sam passed out, breathing steadily. “The same goes for Sam. I don’t look at him and see the boy with demon blood in his veins. I see the goofy, floppy haired Sam who is a genius, who’s ambitious and fun and caring and brave and I see that he’s trying his hardest to do what he thinks is right.”

Dean cleared his throat and stood up, reaching his arms out to you. “Come here.” He pulled you into a tight hug which both of you desperately needed. “Thank you.” He whispered while his face was buried in your hair.

After a few long moments, Dean pulled away and reached into his back pocket. He pulled out a small chain and handed it to you, gently placing it in the center of your hand to reveal the trinity knot that was formerly your mom’s ring. He had cleaned it up and polished it, trimming off the broken part of the band to create a beautiful pendant necklace. Tears began to well in your eyes and your vision became misty.

“I didn’t have the right kind of metal to fix the band, so I made it into a necklace. I hope that’s okay.” A small tear traced your cheek as you closed your fist around the necklace, then wrapping your arms around Dean. “Your dad gave it to your mom because it means never ending devotion, right?” You nodded into his chest. “Thank you for believing in me.”

Dean was never really one for long, sappy speeches. You knew exactly what he was trying to say by giving you this gift.

“This…” you fought back your tears. “This means more to me then you’ll ever know, Dean. Thank you”

“Let’s see it on you.” Dean took the necklace from you and put it around your neck as you gathered your hair in the back so he could do up the clasp. He took a step back and made a rectangle with his index fingers and thumbs, pretending to look through it. “Even more beautiful than I imagined.” He gave you a soft kiss, then motioned to the car with his head. “Let’s get outta here.”

Chapter 12

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@panicking-outside-the-disco

@vicmc624

@akshi8278

@idreamofdeanie

#dean winchester #dean x reader #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #supernatural #spn fanfiction #spn s15

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thanksjro · 4 years

Text

Robots in Disguise (2012), #1-22- A Recap, For Reference Purposes

Before we begin with “Dark Cybertron”, a lightning round style recap on the 22 issues that took place in the sister series to MTMTE, Robots in Disguise; just so we know what’s up with all the folks who didn’t hitch a ride on the Lost Light.

Here’s the Story So Far, since it’s been a minute.

Now for the nitty gritty.

Cybertron is a literal hellscape, as established in The Death of Optimus Prime, the very flora of the planet trying to murder anything that comes within a few miles of the surface. This has caused a massive economic slump in the tourist trap towns, who surely will not survive without the summertime revenue. Truly, life is cruel and not worth living.

Bumblebee narrates, as we show off all the weirdoes who live on Cybertron now. Bumblebee tries to greet a new batch of arrivals, as Metalhawk actively attempts to make him look like Satan incarnate, because all the NAILs have gone full ACAB at this point.

A robot who looks like he’s wearing a beanie commits vandalism and is then subjected to violence via Decepti-cop.

This is more or less the flavor for RID as a whole. You have been warned.

Prowl breaks someone’s hand just because he can. Blurr is made to arrest someone for disturbing the peace, even though he’s, like, basically the only guy on the Autobots who isn’t a cop. Bumblebee doesn’t believe in democracy.

Ratbat is the leader of the Decepticons, even though Soundwave is right friggin’ there. We establish that the military state is in full swing. Prowl commits a microaggression against a Senator. Ratbat gets pissy about his guys going out to beat people up, not because it violates his moral sensibilities, but because it benefits the Autobots.

Probably that you’re killing people by remote control, in as horrified a tone as he could manage, because that’s FUCKING EVIL. Seems pretty straightforward to me.

Prowl says to cancel the memorial for the Lost Light, because he thinks the Decepticons are up to something. Which they are.

Everyone hates the Autobots. Like, everyone.

Ironhide runs away from a murderous hedge and smashes into a wall. Prowl has a talk with a mysterious individual about his feelings during a romantic sunset.

Metalhawk releases hat guy from prison. He and Bumblebee have a little chat, during which he tries to gaslight the little guy. Bumblebee explodes Horri-Bull’s head in front of at least 30 people.

Except he actually didn’t, because the chips don’t actually work. T’was a ruse! Starscream enters the narrative. Ratbat used to be an actual person and not just a bat. Sideswipe wants to shoot someone. Bumblebee tasers a man unprovoked; guess he’s picked up a little paranoia from that time he got shot.

Starscream calls Prowl ugly, then spills the beans on Ratbat’s plan to kill Bumblebee at the memorial, solely because he thinks Ratbat is an idiot. Needlenose and Skywarp beat up a NAIL to work through their emotions.

Bumblebee shows a snuff film to hundreds of people at the memorial. Skywarp tries to frame a NAIL for murder, but Prowl says nuts to that idea, through the power of dramatic irony.

Long Haul tells a fib. Bumblebee and Metalhawk agree to work together. Ratbat gets turned into chunky salsa by Arcee, who will use the excuse of self-defense if questioned. Starscream pulls some fucking bullshit and third-wheels the agreement between Bumblebee and Metalhawk.

Ratbat’s death is played off as a suicide. Blurr is still a cop. Starscream is helpful. There’s a guy who looks like a frog, and I don’t care for what his eyes are doing.

Frog guy explodes, because nature is a cruel mistress.

Wheeljack has a hell of a time trying to answer the phone in the middle of an economic debate. Prowl is paranoid. Starscream handles the housing crisis. Wheeljack visits the hospital and causes a scene. Another explosion happens, killing dozens, including this guy:

You will be missed, Tiddytron.

Wheeljack realizes that the moon is trying to kill everyone, so he shoots missiles at the problem. The Aerialbots fuck off into the wilderness.

The Decepticons get some perks now that Starscream’s a government employee. Starscream destroys the military state through the power of talking over people. Prowl and his cronies investigate a murder at the trash factory.

Bombshell is arrested for thought crime, and spills the beans on the I/D chips not working. Prowl has Dirge on a chain for some reason, and it ends up causing nothing but trouble. Blurr runs every red light in the city to make a citizen’s arrest, and gets his ass kicked by a bunch of construction workers. Prowl has a complex about Spike Witwicky.

Prowl fixes the I/D chip issue and things go poorly for the construction workers. Blurr gets upset about having his ass kicked by construction workers. Prowl is very paranoid, even as he has a borderline pinup panel devoted to his weird robot bellybutton and positively ridiculous cinched waist. I begin to worry about how much I’m learning about Andrew Griffith’s tastes.

The poetry shark shows up.

Arcee reveals a little bit about herself, and I shed a tear as I shake my fist in the general direction of England, cursing Simon Furman’s name.

Metalhawk brings Sky-Byte to a literal trashcan fire to meet his buddies, and they all rag on the Autobots for a while.

Ironhide goes joyriding and finds Sky-Byte Oh Yorick-ing a Sweep’s head. Turns out they have a history. Blurr reveals his dream to own a bar. Metalhawk brings up the fact that setting up a group of folks to have their heads explode if they step out of line is some dystopian bullshit.

Sky-Byte meets up with his old buddy Swindle, and gets the skinny on the bullshit that’s being pulled on this brand-new Cybertron. Everything goes to shit very quickly. Streetwise gets set on fire. Prowl needs to stop. Ironhide commits violence against the general populace, then advocates for the removal of the I/D chips.

Blurr opens a bar, and it’s dinosaur-friendly. Prowl commits property damage on a table, because he’s tablephobic. Ironhide reveals the future.

Shockwave sends an entire race of Big Birds to their frozen demise. Orion Friggin’ Pax comes back into the narrative, in the middle of his giant fuck-off-from-responsibility space adventure. Wheelie and Garnak are here, which is cool, I guess. Jhiaxus yells a bunch, and Orion decides to go to Big Bird planet.

It’s farkin’ cold in here.

Orion and Hardhead talk about Rodimus’ tumultuous relationship with death. Shockwave is the only person in the universe who understands quantum mechanics. Monstructor wakes up from his cryo-sleep. Wheelie and Garnak are grievously wounded, and the patch job seems less than medically sound, since we’ve just put a screw into Garnak’s orbital socket to hold his eye-patch in place. Orion walks into a trap, knowingly and willingly.

Wheeljack does some espionage, even though Mirage is right friggin’ there. Turmoil swings by Cybertron to say hello- the Decepticon, not the emotional state. Drift is outed as a war criminal- well, more so than originally thought. Turmoil has a time machine.

Sky-Byte and Jazz team up for slam poetry night. Blurr tells Metalhawk a story. Wheeljack’s espionage adventure goes poorly. Turmoil gets trapped in a hamster ball. Wheeljack and Metalhawk get trapped in a hamster ball.

The Dinobots and Ironhide go on a camping trip. Starscream craves democracy. Skylynx is a glorified taxi. Slag hasn’t changed his name yet, despite half of the people working for IDW being from the UK. Swoop breaks down IDW Phase Two to its bare essentials.

Prowl sits on someone’s desk, because he doesn’t respect tables. Slag’s face is on fire all the time, and it’s sort of distracting. Swindle bothers Shockwave. Ironhide is attacked by the Dinobots.

Bumblebee sits outside and has some Night Thoughts. Cybertron wants everyone to stick together, and God help you if you don’t. Bumblebee is beginning to develop a complex. Blurr is upset with himself. Ravage and the Reflectors go on an adventure. The time machine isn’t actually a time machine. The time machine disappears.

Ironhide finds the Aerialbots, who have been combinered by the horrors of new Cybertron. Everyone yells at Bumblebee.

We get a taste of Old World Cybertronian propaganda, where everyone talks in the third person, as is tradition. Starscream gets curvier every issue. Again, I begin to worry about how much I’m learning about Andrew Griffith’s tastes.

Blurr causes an explosion in the wilderness looking for Ironhide, much to Starscream’s delight. There is a Titan under the ground, and its very existence is making reality shit the bed. Tailgate’s lies in MTMTE are so extensive, red herrings have leaked into the sister series.

Nova Prime commissioned Monstructor, and Omega Supreme hated it so much he punched it in the face.

Starscream invites a bunch of friends over to see the Titan. Brainstorm is used as a scale for end-of-the-world scenarios. Starscream is revealed to be chosen by the gods.

The Reflectors visit a planet and shit gets weird very quickly. Wheelie is about to have a goddamned stress-induced aneurysm, not that Orion particularly cares. Time nonsense is established. Wheelie-speak becomes plot-relevant. Livio Ramondelli subjects me to his nightmares’ nightmares.

Starscream gets interviewed on national television. Starscream owns a hat that makes him look like a Gundam. Omega Supreme explodes. Metalhawk flip-flops between who he’s defending like a fish on the dock. Starscream yells at Shockwave for being an instigator. Prowl and Starscream make a deal.

Arcee stabs a cat in the throat. IDW settles the debate- at least for their own continuity- and says RIRFIB. Prowl takes a fireball to the face to convince people he’s on the up-and-up. Arcee is smarter than Starscream. This asshole shows back up.

Bumblebee really, really wants to kill Megatron, but politics demand he be taken in as a POW. The fellas construct a conspiracy theory. Starscream tries to lead his peers, but it goes poorly. Not a single medical professional of Cybertronian descent actually keeps track of their patients. Maccadam’s gets several light fixtures ruined by Arcee. Wheeljack gets called a tool. Prowl shows up in his hot new body, decked out with enough weaponry to annihilate a small country and a gun that’s as big as he is.

Starscream gives Megatron a piece of his mind. The Decepticons are rioting in the streets. Prowl shows Wheeljack his toys. Arcee plays her trump card. Bumblebee tries his hand at negotiation.

Bumblebee learns a valuable lesson about leadership. Politics are hell. Megatron is released from prison. Democracy finally gets its day. Megatron enters the Black Room with his whole ass hanging out. Pretty much every Decepticon you thought was dead isn’t actually dead.

Metalhawk gets a taste of how 24/7 news has ruined everything. Prowl is revealed to be the mastermind behind all the bullshit that’s been going on the last few months, and he’s been working with Megatron. Swindle gets run over by a train. Wheeljack’s head is turned into a memory by Prowl. The crazy-making signal out in the wilderness was made by Megatron. Megatron walks in in his hot new bod, carrying his old one like his new bride. And what a pretty bride it is.

We get a literal talking heads sequence explaining just how exactly Megatron survived the events of “Chaos” and why Combiners are the bees’ knees. Prowl isn’t Prowl, but actually being controlled by Bombshell.

Dang, wonder who could have caused that, CHROMEDOME.

Prowl is released from his mind-control, and immediately plays the blame game with Bumblebee. The Constructicons and Prowl have a thing going, and show it off, much to Bumblebee’s horror.

Circuit gets given Fixit’s dialogue for some reason, and I can’t tell if this was an issue on the art side or the script side. Devastator wrecks shop. Megatron laughs at Starscream for being a loser, then crushes Bumblebee’s head like a grape. Ironhide finally shows up to the party, and he brought a veggie platter.

Jazz tries to warn the medical staff about the Combiner coming their way, but no one ever listens to Jazz. Prowl has a crisis of self. Jazz breaks up the two-man act. Megatron let Bumblebee keep his cane, proving that even heartless monsters can respect the Disabilities Act.

Ironhide and the Dinobots save the day. Superion and Devestator get into a fistfight. Prowl reaffirms his complex over Spike Witwicky. Bumblebee says some halfway transphobic shit, and I shed a tear as I shake my fist in the general direction of England, cursing Simon Furman’s name. Arcee switches sides again and stabs Bombshell in the face. Prowl takes a nap. The tides turn.

Ironhide resists Frenzy’s sonic attack through the sheer power of gumption. Skywarp says fuck this and gets out of dodge. Devastator becomes a real boy.

Bumblebee WILL kill Megatron. Arcee makes it weird. Ironhide helps Prowl figure out his life. Bumblebee never learns. Metalhawk saves his BFF, and gets his arm shot off for his troubles. Starscream uses Metalhawk’s fuck-you-level long arm to kill a man.

Swindle carries a dude twice his size to safety with one of his arms off. Needlenose gets his just desserts. Devastator rips off his head to escape his crippling self-doubt. The Constructicons are having a hell of a day.

You said it, Hook.

Wheeljack saves the day from beyond the grave, that clever man. Metalhawk is killed by politics. Hat Guy tries to fight Bumblebee, and gets mad that he doesn’t remember his name. They’ve spoken to each other maybe once.

Metalhawk is made into a playing chip by Starscream, and also a speech writer from beyond the pale. Starscream tells everyone to get naked or fuck off, then takes off his top. All the Autobots and Decepticons who don’t want to get naked fuck off into the wilderness.

The Dark Cybertron “Prelude" issues kick in.

Shockwave and Dreadwing fly through the photorealistic sky to get to where the Titan is.

Listen here you little shit-

Shockwave shoots Dreadwing to test a theory, because ethics are for nerds.

Back when Shockwave was a hot guy with feelings, Jhiaxus was dealing with the Monstructor thing, then fucked off into space. Shockwave took the opportunity to be better than his teacher in every way, as is tradition. Proteus threw a whole-ass person across the room, because classism. Shockwave revealed himself to be a budding ecoterrorist. Shockwave joined a terrorist organization to further his own goals. Orion Pax tried to appeal to Shockwave’s softer side. Megatron killed the Senate. Shockwave replaced his shitty claws with a gun. Shockwave shot Dai Atlas in the legs and can’t explain why.

Dreadwing comes back to life, thanks to the power of Shockwave’s 14th ore.

Bumblebee has the Big Sad about Starscream being King of Iacon. Arcee doesn’t know what emotional turmoil feels like. Metalhawk’s lifeless body lays in the sun for several hours. Prowl is propositioned by the Constructicons. Arcee tells Prowl’s darkest secret, and it kills Bumblebee. Swoop is having a great time.

Arcee knows about Bumblebee being Hasbro’s golden boy. Prowl uses his manners, but only when no one can hear him. Arcee and the Constructicons get into a fight, with more flaming swords getting involved than you might expect. Slag offers to buy Arcee a drink.

Bumblebee gets a hot new body. Arcee gives herself a stick-and-poke tattoo. In a few hours, the sun will rise.

Pal, you are way ahead of schedule.

Shockwave makes a dramatic entrance.

Waspinator tells a story about the time he killed a servant of God and met death. Orion and pals visit Gorlam Prime. The Dead Universe comes into the narrative again. Wheelie has his arm blown off to keep from getting disintegrated, but he shrugs it off, because life is always awful for Wheelie.

Waspinator gets chased through the desert by Monstructor. Orion Pax acts like a dumbass. A Titan is revealed. Monstructor rides on the time-travel ship like it’s a horsey. Waspinator controls a Titan and makes it teleport. Orion plays fourth-dimensional chess, and reveals that his personal ship is named after his best friend.

Starscream talks to a corpse. Blurr tells Starscream to fuck off. A very good boy enters the narrative. The paparazzi ruin Starscream’s attempt to get underlings to do what he wants. A literal rat enters the narrative.

Starscream talks to Megatron, and I genuinely don’t have the words to explain what exactly is going on with that guy. Starscream takes a gander into the very good boy’s toolbox. The very good boy lays it on thick. Starscream destroys a man’s reputation.

Starscream breaks into Rattrap’s apartment. Rattrap becomes a government employee. Starscream talks to Wheeljack, who isn’t dead.

Soundwave has a flashback to when the Decepticons surrendered after the Chaos event, confirming that Ratbat was universally hated. Soundwave has robo-synesthesia. Shockwave is the perfect Cybertronian- Soudwave hates him for it.

Shockwave calls his teacher. Ravage judges Soundwave. The Decepticons reminisce on the time they resorted to cannibalism. Soundwave thinks mourning is for dumb babies and tells everyone to shut up because he’s big man on campus now.

Nobody deserves it more than you, babe.

The infighting begins, because no Decepticon has the ability to be halfway decent to each other, and they won’t learn that skill for a good while. Needlenose throws Blitzwing across a field and admits to having feelings. Soundwave is abandoned by the Decepticon forces.

Soundwave talks to himself in the Crystal City, then gets his ass kicked by Dreadwing.

In the past, Shockwave calls Bombshell a loser and outdoes him.

Soundwave kills Dreadwing. Shockwave hides in the shadows like a weirdo. Soundwave is done trusting Shockwave. Soundwave grabs Shockwave by the boob and yells at him. Soundwave is a hopeful guy.

In the past, Soundwave stole Ratbat’s brain and put it in a cassette, proving that space-Communism only works on paper.

Soundwave punches Shockwave in the head. Shockwave assumes Soundwave is alone, despite knowing he can contain many small men inside him.

Shockwave explodes a cat. Soundwave fires missiles at Shockwave and hits him in the tit. Shockwave would fuck Microsoft Excel if he could. Frenzy is just happy to be here- no, I didn’t mix them up, the colorist did.

Ravage is a grown-ass man. Soundwave’s synesthesia used to be a lot worse. Shockwave sends Soundwave and pals home. The Titan and Waspinator show up.

Soundwave has a face. Ravage and all the other cassettes are emotional support animals, who are also fully sapient.

Shockwave’s gonna fuck everything up.

And THAT, dear children, is the entirety of Robots in Disguise, up to issue #22. We’re all caught up and ready.

#transformers #rid #exrid #recap #maccadam #Hannzreads #text post #long post

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buckstaposition · 4 years

Text

I cling to your lips like gloss (1)

a Javier Peña x OFC story

now also on AO3

author: @youhavereachedtheendofpie (if u wanna come say hello on main)

rating/warnings: swearing, mentions of character death

words: 5521

Author’s note: dude this chapter fought me every step of the way but it’s here now so suck it, muses or whatever

---

Tag list: @keeper0fthestars @opheliaelysia @dindjarindiaries (thank you sweeties whom I will hold forever in my heart)

(message me if you want to be added to the list)

Masterlist

Prologue

Chapter 1 - The Informant

'Liliana' the file said. I was tucked away in the locked bottom drawer of his old desk, the one he hadn't even had time to clear out when they'd sent him away. To be fair, Javier had only known to look because Murphy had called him to tell him about this informant. It sounded too good to be true. An informant coming to them of their own accord, ready to spill valuable inside secrets of the Calí cartel, and they didn't even want payment? One would be forgiven, in their line of work, to smell a trap. But Murphy had vouched for this one, and he trusted Murphy, knew that his partner (former partner) did his homework with due diligence. That, and the first batch of intel Murphy had brought back from their first few meetings had already proven invaluable.

There was apparently only one hiccup, and it was that the informant refused to talk to any agents other than him or Murphy. It had even led to Steve having to postpone his return to the States for almost two months, until it was clear that Javier would return to Colombia. Fair enough, he'd need to make up his own mind about them anyway. He collected the file and tucked it into the box that held all the stuff he'd cleared out of the desk, since he would now officially be moving a an office of his own.

Upon arriving in said office, he kicked the door closed and sat, lighting a cigarette and reaching for the file. As thin as it was, it still took him almost an hour to work through it, though half of the time was spent deciphering Murphy's chicken scratch mess of annotations. The rest was spent on making his own. After checking the time, Javier fetched himself a cup of the same old tar brew that passed for coffee here, lit another cigarette, and dialled Steve's new office number in Miami.

"Murphy."

"Alright, I've read the file." Javier started without preamble. Perhaps that was a bit short. He grimaced, then added, "About the informant. Liliana."

"Yeah, I figured." Steve exhaled probably puffing away at his own nicotine habit. Javier meant to quit, but kept pushing it off. The intent was all there was to it, at this stage. "So what're you calling me for, big boss?"

Javier elected to ignore the taunt, knowing it was friendly.

"You've met her. Is she legit?"

"Why, you smelling a trap?"

Pathological mistrust was a feature one acquired while on this job. Those who didn't ended up dead. Those who did would still end up dead, just later and more jaded. Either way you'd get a lot of other people killed on the way. "Just making sure."

They spent the next half hour and a bit going over the file together, comparing notes, catching up, thinking aloud - all of which were much easier to do when they had each other to bounce off of. It felt good, almost like old times. Javier went through close to a third of his pack of cigarettes, the air growing heavy in the windowless room. Just as well that it was almost time to wrap this up. A look at his watch told him that it was getting late in the day, and that Steve would want to get home to his family. All Javier could hope for at this point was avoiding resident CIA-asshole Bill Stechner on his way out, at least on this day.

"You won't be able to pull your usual shit with this one." Steve remarked, accompanied by the sound of shuffling papers. Javier bristled, even though he knew the things people said about him, both behind his back and to his face.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Knowing didn't mean it didn't, occasionally, sting, but he'd given up on trying to influence other people's minds long ago. A reputation once acquired was not easily shed, not that he'd made much of an effort to.

"It means that you shouldn't. Pull your usual crap with this one. For one I hardly think it'll be necessary."

"That would be new." Javier snorted. He could hear Steve's eyeroll through the phone.

"Still the same asshole-" Steve snarked. "I'm just saying be nice for once, especially since that woman's intel is the only reason you still have a job. She's a nice lady, so with a bit of luck some of that might even rub off on you."

"And I'm the asshole..."

"So everyone keeps saying."

"Fuck you, Steve."

"Go fuck yourself, Javi." Steve's chuckle told him it was all in good humor. "And don't fuck this informant."

"Yeah, yeah," Javier waved it off. The woman was an accountant, for fuck's sake. Note exactly his usual type. Or the type he usually attracted.

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

They were meeting at one of the small restaurants lining the edge of Parque Sabaneta in Medellín. Over the phone her voice had sounded... hesitant, above all else. Tinny, too, but he blamed the connection for that. And he'd brought her a satellite phone for future contacts; her driving out to remote phone cells and him waiting for calls after hours in his office just didn't cut it.

There hadn't been a picture in the file, but Steve's description had been quite accurate and Javier was able to pick her out at the table she'd chosen before making himself known. Dark hair and darker eyes behind large, slightly old-fashioned glasses. She was almost tall and hid her figure underneath loose-fitted clothing; today a flowy blouse and high-waisted dress pants, and a bulky cardigan against the spring chill that lingered even into the late morning. Her hair was pulled back into a low bun that reminded him of his fifth grade math teacher, Ms Jenkins. Javier approached the table.

"Diana Rivas?" She froze for a split-second before relaxing again, returning his greeting softly. In real life her voice was deeper than he would have anticipated, raspier too, but not unpleasant - the kind of voice one would expect first thing in the morning, just after waking up.

"I do hope your drive was not too tiring, Agent Peña." she said as he sat. He grimaced slightly. The drive had been long, above all else. Not his first choice of how to spend a Friday morning. Well, he'd endured worse for this job. But next time he'd definitely travel by plane.

"Do they serve decent coffee here?" Javier scrubbed a hand over his burning eyes and settled, resuming his assessment. She squirmed slightly under his unrelenting gaze, but squared her shoulders after a moment, meeting his gaze head-on and motioning a waiter over with a flick of her delicate wrist.

"Of course they do, this is Medellín!" She sounded mildly offended, then ignored him in favor of telling the waiter their order. Javier took the time to observe her further.

No make-up, no jewellery, save for a simple, functional watch and a small silver locket on a long, thin chain. No wedding band either, but the paleness and indentation around her ring finger still indicated that she'd worn one in the recent past. Her features were soft and feminine, with high cheekbones and a pointed chin, all making her look younger than she purportedly was. His gaze caught on her defined cupid's bow just a second too long. Her complexion seemed far too sunkissed for someone who spent most of their time indoors, in air-conditioned office spaces. In conclusion, undeniably lovely to anyone with eyes who cared to look, but obviously taking great pains to discourage closer scrutiny, to look as mousy and plain as possible. It worked, to a degree.

It occurred to Javier that maybe he should actually talk to her, since that's what he'd come here for.

"Do you always begin your interrogations with the silent treatment? I can see how that might be effective." She beat him to it, just before the coffee cups were set on the table in front of them.

"This isn't an interrogation." he groused, taking a tentative sip of the coffee. The scent of it alone was enough to wake the dead; it was heavenly. He'd have to see if he could weasel some halfway decent coffee out of his budget at the office.

"Regardless, I only have until noon today. We can meet again tomorrow; I can make myself available all afternoon for you, Agent Peña."

Javier huffed out a breath before taking another sip. "Why can you suddenly do Medellín anyway? You had Murphy travel across half the country to meet you."

She made a face at that, something between annoyed and apologetic. "My aunt, she... she's sick and been getting worse. I make the time to come down here every other weekend now to help her."

"And your employers are alright with that?" He hadn't exactly pegged the Calí cartel for employers of the year. Or to pioneer part-time models so their employees could care for sick relatives.

"As long as the work gets done, yes. It means I work ten to eleven hour days Monday to Thursday, but I am the only one left in this family..." She sniffled a little and swept the tips of her fingers under the plastic rim of her glasses, wiping at her eyes. Javier looked away, pretending it was to give her privacy. He imagined this unusually forthright woman walking up to Pacho Herrera to ask for reduced work hours so she could care for her aunt- That could really have gone either way, but somehow he thought that was probably not how it happened, or whom she'd asked. He just couldn't picture it. Maybe one of the brothers; they liked to style themselves as charitable family men, to a degree.

"Anyway, Medellín's closer for you, and we're less likely to be found out here. They like to keep security pretty tight in Calí. My friend Angelika calls it the Calí Stasi, and she's from the former East Germany, so she'd know."

He hummed in acknowledgement, his coffee almost gone and him almost feeling like a living human being again. He flagged the waiter down for another.

"In any case, I am glad that we can keep this to Spanish now. My English is not very ...confident." She prattled on, sipping from her own cup. Murphy had told him that she'd brought a dictionary to their first meeting, and apparently, with his former partner's dismal language skills, they'd actually needed it.

"I'm sure your English is better than Murphy's Spanish." Steve had told him as much, but then again, Steve's Spanish was shit, so it really wasn't saying much. There was something else niggling at the back of his mind.

"Why me?"

Her glasses slid down her nose half an inch or so in surprise at his -admittedly abrupt- question. "I'm sorry?"

"Murphy said you wanted to speak to me specifically when you first called. Why?"

She hesitated a moment, squirmed a little and averted her eyes, then pushed her glasses back up her nose before answering, softer than before. "Gabriela said you could be trusted."

"...Gabriela?" He said sharply, neck flushing at the thought of the beautiful redhead.

She shrunk in on herself, hands fidgeting nervously in her lap. Perhaps his voice had come out a little bit harsher than intended. He hadn't even thought that she'd actually tell him her real name. He'd just been a client after all.

"Yes," Miss Rivas breathed out, her voice so soft now that he had to lean halfway across the table to even catch it. "She's my best friend. We've been inseparable since the firts day of school. We tell each other everything. She told me she knew a DEA agent; that's why I told my cousin to go to her when she ran into trouble with Pablo Escobar-"

"Your cousin???" He almost roared. It came out as more of a whisper-yell, but she still flinched, eyes going wide behind the lenses.

"Yes, my cousin," she said carefully, "Maritza Rincón."

"Maritza–" he patted his pocket for a smoke and swore under his breath when he remembered how he'd left them in the car with the intention of advancing his 'quit smoking'-idea beyond idle talk. "What is this, a fucking trap? Very elaborate setup just to yell at me, missy. Unless you've got some buddies of yours here to–"

"What- what are you *talking* about? I don't blame you for Maritza's death!" By now people were staring. Not a lot of them, since it wasn't really the time yet for the midday crowd and too late for the morning rush, but the few pensioners and whatnot were definitely sensing the tension at their table. Javier gave up on his cigarette search and took a deliberate breath, willing himself to calm down.

"Maritza is dead?" He hadn't known that. He wasn't sure how he would have learned of it, but it still shocked him regardless. He looked over to see her fidget with her locket, lips pressed tight and trembling. Shit. Another informant on his conscience, fucking great.

"I'm sorry, I didn't-" he started, his voice catching. He bought himself time with his now lukewarm coffee, "Look, I'm sorry. I didn't know that. I-"

"It's alright." She whispered, in a tone of voice that clearly indicated it wasn't. She swept her glasses off with trembling fingers and pressed beneath her eyes, as if to restrain the tears that pooled in her lashes.

"I'm sorry." Javier said again, insistent, soft, sincere. "What happened?"

"We- I don't know. She called me to say she was in trouble with Escobar, and I helped her set up the meeting with Gabi."

"With me." He remembered that evening, that young girl sitting in Gabriela's apartment, ready to be sprung on him. Part of him had resented it; Gabriela had been someone he'd sought out to get away from the damn narcos and their dealings. Miss Rivas nodded.

"Yes. It was that idiot Jhon. He was one of the neighborhood kids. Growing up he'd always had a crush on her..." She talked a lot, he found. It should irritate him more, the way she'd throw in seemingly irrelevant asides without explaining further. Instead he only found himself worrying that someone so pathologically honest could not possibly keep the Gentlemen of Calí off her tracks, at least not if she kept spilling her life story so eagerly.

" ...and then she hid out on her uncle's farm again, where my auntie - her mom - grew up and went back to after my uncle - that's Maritza's dad - died of a heart attack. Auntie had been out for the day and when she came back- "

He can't bear to listen to it, but forces himself to anyway. In the sea of his regrets, what's one more? Besides, there's nothing else he can do for the girl now; the least he can do is witness how he failed her.

For all her unassuming bluntness, Diana Rivas is not one to hold back, even on unsavoury details. At least he doesn't get the sense that she does it to torment when she tells him how they found Maritza's lifeless body with her young daughter next to her.

By the end of that sorry tale, he has his head in his hands, Miss Rivas is still just this side of openly weeping, and all the other patrons have demonstratively averted their attention so as not to impose on what must, on the outside, look like an urgent case for a damned good couples' counselor.

"I'm sorry, I know this is a lot." And why in the hell is she apologizing?

"No shit." And yeah, he has to digest this before he can even think of making any attempt at non-destructive human interaction. "You couldn't tell Murphy any of this?"

She gave him a look.

"Yeah, alright. Sorry." More than just a language barrier, got it.

"I didn't come here today with the intention to relive this, you know?" She said archly. He supposed she had all the right to be upset. And he'd never had a meeting with an informant turn this harrowing, which was really saying something.

"I'm sorry." He said again, putting the weight of sincerity behind the words. Her hands were in the table now, fidgeting again as she sat slightly hunched over, staring into her coffee cup.

"Unless your government has a time machine to spare, I would prefer not talking about it again. At least not more than necessary." She replaced her glasses and checked her watch. "1 pm tomorrow?"

Javier nodded dumbly, already plucking a few bills out of his wallet to pay for the coffee. "Yeah, 1 pm is okay. Where?"

"Meet me at the church. Santa Ana. You know it?" He didn't particularly, as in he didn't know its name before now, but he could see the building's tall white facade from where they were sitting.

"Iglesia de Santa Ana, 1 pm tomorrow." Javier confirmed, rising as she did. The stared at each other for a moment, unsure of how to conclude this meeting, until she stuck her hand out for him to shake. He took her smaller, slender hand in his, squeezing it wordlessly.

"Until tomorrow, Agent Peña." She said, managing a sad little smile. "I hope you'll get some rest. You look like shit."

Javier bit down every one of the snarky replies that sprung to mind, not least because he knew it was true. His bags had bags and he itched for a smoke.

And to think, this was Murphy's 'nice lady'.

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

Somehow it hadn't occurred to him that at the church meant inside the church. Not until a very miffed face peered out between the heavy doors, giving him a look as he stood there smoking.

"It's barely been five minutes!" Javier defended himself, stubbing out the cigarette beneath his heel.

"It's 1:07pm." She informed him matter-of-factly, pushing the glasses back up her nose pointedly as she made to turn back inside. Javier caught the door, crowding perhaps a bit too close, but the damned thing was heavy.

"Sorry." He said simply, seeing no point in making a scene out of it. She had to crane her neck just the slightest bit to meet his gaze.

"Wait here, I'll be out in a minute." And with that she stalked off. Javi watched her sweep down the aisle, her hair and skirt fluttering behind her. She wore her hair loose today, the ends of it curling around her shoulders, and a simple off-white shirt dress that reached down to mid-calf. He let his eyes trail after her, leaning his weight more fully against the heavy wood of the door to lever it open. She walked around two thirds of the way down the pews before stopping by a... baby carriage?

She bent over it before carefully wheeling it around and starting back towards the door. Javier racked his tired brain. The file hadn't said anything about a kid. Married five years but no children. That didn't seem like the kind of thing one would easily miss, and he knew Murphy to be thorough in his inquiries.

"Who's this then?" He peered inside the carriage -more of a buggy really now that he got a closer look- and barely caught a glance of a dozing toddler with soft brown curls, while hoisting the door open wider to let her pass more easily. "Didn't know you had a kid."

"I don't." The buggy caught on the threshold and jolted, and a displeased cry came from inside it, making her curse under her breath. "This is Maritza's daughter, Salome. I've got it! Just- the door, just get the door!"

The last part of that came out high and sharp, much like the crack of a whip, and in direct response to Javier's attempt to swoop in and help heave the buggy over the worn-down threshold. He jolted back on instinct, grunting when the door swung squarely into his spine. Who the hell was responsible for all these old-ass church doors being solid enough to squash an actual living human between them?

After some fumbling they managed to make it out with most of their dignity still intact. Javier bent down and quickly shoved the bag he'd brought into the wire basket underneath the buggy's seat, next to her purse.

"Where to?" He asked, straightening up again. Miss Rivas still looked cross, her lips pressed together.

"Follow along. There are some secluded benches a little walk away." And off she was, leavin him to catch up.

"If your intention is to disguise this meeting as just another family enjoying the sun I suggest you slow down a little." Javier hissed under his breath. He'd actually had to jog a bit to keep up with her steamroller pace. She looked even more annoyed and declined to grace him with an answer, but slowed with a sigh that told him that this was indeed her intention. It was a smart enough plan, he wouldn't dispute that.

At least the kid seemed to have calmed from her little jostle-startle, seeing as she was now quietly babbling away as if narrating the sights. Javier tried to loosen his tense shoulders and to look like he was enjoying himself as they fell into step ambling along the walkways between the lush greenery.

"How old is she?" he asked, thinking that perhaps some small talk would ease the woman's sullen mood.

"Almost two and a half." Or not. Well, he tried. Javier wasn't exactly an expert with kids and none of his previous informants had ever shown up with theirs. Not that that would have been appropriate considering the circumstances. They walked for about a quarter of an hour, which Javier spent agonizing about how to smooth over the sudden mood change Miss Rivas was displaying compared to the day before. By the time they'd made it to their destination he was no closer to that goal.

She sat with a weary sigh, shaking out her flowy skirt before sitting and rolling her sleeves up to her elbows. It was much warmer today than when they'd met previously, only in part due to the later hour. Stiffly, Javier sat down next to her at a distance that instantly belied their 'family outing' cover. She turned to him after checking on the baby, peeling back the sunshade of the buggy to allow her to look around.

"You can smoke if you want to." Miss Rivas said offhandedly, her tone forcedly polite. Javier cleared his throat.

"I'm actually trying to quit."

Her lips quirked into a pleasant curve. "And how's that going?"

Javier sighed. "I'm thinking I might have chosen the wrong time."

"Or the wrong job."

The laugh that bursts forth from him is short, but not altogether hollow. "Yeah, or that."

"Very well, then you may not smoke even though you might want to."

Javier smiled. Couldn't help it, really. He had been worried that he'd somehow managed to offend her during their last meeting. He said as much, and she shook her head with a look of remorse.

"No, it's not your fault. It's just..." She pushed her glasses up and rubbed at her eyes, revealing the dark rings that had previously been hidden beneath the plastic rim. "Yesterday dredged up some things, and I didn't sleep well as a consequence. That always makes me snippy. And to top things of, this one," she leaned over to unbuckle the child and heave her into her lap, "was being fussy all morning, which didn't help. Sorry for being so short with you earlier."

"In this job, people usually shoot at me. It's alright, really. You're alright." Truth be told, he was glad she pulled herself out of this funk. Maybe she was as nice as Murphy claimed after all. The kid looked at him with large, round, strangely sage eyes. I got your mommy killed. I got your mommy killed and you had to watch. If he had gotten her that visa- The thought made him gulp, made him dizzy and nauseous and if there was anything to be glad for in this situation it was that he was already sitting down. Miss Rivas replaced her glasses and looked at him with furrowed brows. He felt like he was being read.

"I already told you that I don't blame you for Maritza." Javier tried his damnedest not to squirm underneath that discerning stare. Screw read, he felt like he was being flayed open. "Obviously you still blame yourself."

"Wouldn't you?" He shot back, defensive. She didn't answer for a moment, gently rocking the kid who had grabbed a hold of her locket and started to play with it.

"I have enough regrets of my own, Agent Peña." Part of him wants to scoff, even just to dispel the heavy moment, but the severity in her tone nips that impulse in the bud. Instead, he clears his throat and gestures to the buggy where he stored his bag earlier.

"I brought you something."

Her features soften into not quite a smile, but something close enough. "What a coincidence, so have I."

And then she hands him the toddler, who lets out a displeased cry at having her toy wrenched from her chubby hands in so unceremonious a manner, and Javier freezes as her squirmy weight is settled in his lap, only his hand shooting out to steady her on instinct. Up close her big brown eyes are even more enormous.

"Um, hi. Nice to meet you, Miss Salome. I'm Javier." He says awkwardly and is met with a pout. This is patently terrible and reminds him of the few times he'd been handed baby Olivia. She'd started crying instantly nine times out of ten. He hopes against hope that today will be a deviation from that norm. Salome considers him a long moment, blinking owlishly and making that certain kind of skeptical face that little kids so often do. He's had less tense moments in interrogations. He might be sweating in a way that has little to do with the midday heat.

And then Salome blows him a raspberry and dives for his wrist to investigate the shininess of his watch. And when he can breathe again he allows himself a smile. Of relief, mostly. In stark contrast to the smile Miss Rivas wears as she regeards them both, which is pure mischief with a dash of smugness.

"Well look at that. You passed muster, Agent Peña." Miss Rivas set both their bags down in the space between them, then leaned over to press a quick kiss to little Salome's soft curls. And Javier has been much closer to many women than this; his heart shouldn't lurch at the sudden proximity, the waft of her perfume or the light brush of her soft hair over his bare forearm.

"Ladies first." Javier gestured at the bags between them. She smiled and rummaged through hers, producing two thick stacks of folded papers, either parcel secured with a rubber band.

"Trade you?" she motioned at the girl, who was now intently examining the fingers of his right hand. Reluctantly, he let Miss Rivas pluck the small child from his lap and stand her next to the bench. Salome frowned adorably for a moment at having been interrupted in pulling his pinky finger off, then realized she was free to roam around and brightened instantly, hitting the bench a few times with chubby palms and babbling.

"Yes, of course I have your toy, sweetie." Miss Rivas said earnestly, presenting a brightly colored ball. Salome grabbed for it with a squeal, her momentum propelling her straight onto her backside. Miss Rivas turned back to Javier with that soft, fond expression still on her face and handed him one of the parcels.

"Do... did you want to go over this? While I'm here to explain things?"

"That complex, huh?"

"Well, it's a lot to do with creative book-keeping and tax law loopholes. It's more about how they structure their business to launder their incomes than anything else, but it'll still be helpful in building a case, no?"

It is, which is the whole reason he's been sent back here apparently. And while it's nothing the analysts back at the office can't handle (probably), he still likes being in the loop. And also maybe because he enjoys the sound of her voice. In any case he peels off the rubber band and unfolds the stack of papers, keeping a careful hand around it to ensure that nothing blows away in the spring breeze. Miss Rivas pulled out a pencil from her purse and shuffled closer. Close enough that he can smell her perfume again. - - - Over the following hour and a half Javier realized several important things:

One. Diana Rivas is likely one of the cleverest people he has ever met. By page eight his head is swimming with numbers, but her even explanations make even tiered corporate tax rebate systems sound fascinating. Even in his line of work, he'd never truly considered accounting to be the stuff of suspense, but she makes it sound like a thriller that even the brightest heads in Hollywood would have trouble coming up with.

Two. Having to do anything while keeping an eye in a rambunctious small child who is still learning to walk is a uniquely stressful experience. Little Salome is bouncing around the small patch of grass in front of the bench much like her ball, endowed with seemingly endless reservoirs of energy. She crashes into his knee a few times while chasing her ball or deciding that playing hide and seek underneath the bench is a better use of her time, and it puts him on edge that he feels responsible at all.

Three. The Rodríguez brothers make more than enough money from their few legitimate businesses to never have to worry themselves financially. Not that this had been in question, technically, but to see the numbers in black and white is still galling, even if he's not nearly as incensed about it as Miss Rivas seems to be. And while Javier is far from a religious man, he does consider greed that is levered with blood to be at least distateful.

Four. It's not her perfume he smelled earlier, but her shampoo, bright and fruity, with high notes of citrus.

Five. As long as this is all they have and all she can get, the DEA cannot make a move against the Calí cartel. His orders had been very clear on that. Nail them down beyond escape and make absolutely sure you get them into custody, in that order. It means that whatever Miss Rivas can reveal about the inner financial working of the cartel is valuable, but on its own won't be enough. As always in this job it's sorting through a haystack with a rake in search of needlepoints.

Which brings him to the next thing he needs to ask her. Needs to ask her to do for him, and the operation, to be specific, and he can already tell she'll say yes eagerly. Eager informants should be a blessing, but their eagerness seems to directly correlate with their likelihood of getting killed, or close enough.

"This is for you." He says instead, handing her the satellite phone. There's directions that go with it, but he takes the time to walk her through it nonetheless. Also his numbers, both office and home, just in case. He watched as she carefully tucked everything into her purse.

It's later in the afternoon now - past three - and Salome comes toddling over, handing Javier her ball and sitting down on the grassy ground with a world-weary sigh.

"Okay, time for your nap I think, young lady." Miss Rivas plucked the child from the ground and stood to deposit her back in the buggy, then holding out her hand to him expectantly. He hands the ball over after a split-second of dumbstruck hesitation.

"Well, goodbye then, Agent Peña."

He stood. Offered her his hand to shake, which she took. "I'll call you during the week. What time is good for you?"

"Any time between seven and ten. I'll probably be in Medellín again in a month. I'll let you know if I have more intel by then." He nodded, finally releasing her hand after realizing he still had her fingers clasped in his. She smiled and turned to leave, wheeling the buggy around from its resting position and onto the footpath. "Oh, and Agent Peña?" She turned halfway, throwing the words over her shoulder with a smirk. "Gabriela won't be available tonight, just so you know. We're meeting for dinner and general catching up."

His neck flushed hotly, both despite and because he'd had no intention of visiting her.

"Thanks," he said stiffly, "Give her my best."

"Will do!"

Shaking his head, Javier watched her retreat until she disappeared from view behind a bend in the path.

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

Further author’s note bc apparently I have more to say:

I’m gonna play a bit fast and loose with the timeline, because the show makes it look like Javi was sent back pretty much immediately and it only took those ~6 months to take down the cartel bosses, but in reality Escobar died in December of 1993 and the Calí godfathers weren’t arrested until summer of ‘95, so I’m sending Javi back to Colombia in the first half of ‘94 (April to be specific), meaning the time frame for this story is about a year

also I thought Maritza’s daughter in the series was still a baby, but upon rewatch it is actually stated in s2 ep4 that she’s two, and now I had to rewrite those parts. As to why she doesn’t speak, that’s actually something that will come up later and has nothing to do with my bad memory of the series. though tbh I probably assumed that because Olivia was a baby for like three years. (also according to the timeline I determined Maritza’s daugher would actually be between three and four at this point, but I’m going to disregard that. I’ve already had to age her up once and for the purposes of this story I need her to be still this little)

Chapter 2

#narcos (tv)#javier pena x ofc #series #I cling to your lips like gloss (series)#multipart #javier peña #narcos #narcos fanfic #javier peña fanfic #my writing #part 1 #like gloss tag

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bruh-haikyuu · 4 years

Note

Waaaaaaah!!! I really liked you (internecine/oikawa tooru)!!! Can I ask for a part two? What happened with s/o-chan? Her ex(not Oikawa) is dangerous? Will Oikawa discover the truth? Thanks for writing so well!

A/N: DAMN THE SEQUEL YALL BEEN WAITING FOR dabbled with a smidge of iwaizumi x reader ;)) HANA THIS IS FOR US OIK SUCKERS I HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOY

sequel to this

querencia. | oikawa tooru

word count: 5437

warnings: blackmail and angst! (+slight gaslighting)

(n.) a place from which one’s strength is drawn, where one feels at home; the place where you are your most authentic self

Iwaizumi knows Oikawa was strict when it came to volleyball. He knows how riled up he gets whenever he does solo practices. Although that focus came with Oikawa’s obliging reticence, the absence of noise was really pissing him off.

“Oikawa, let’s go, dude. We have to lock up soon or the Discipline Committee will chew us out again.”

He noticed a slight glance from the captain’s sepia pools but Oikawa Tooru kept his lips sealed. This guy… Iwaizumi grimaced. “Hey, I know you heard me. Don’t give your old lady grey hairs by coming home late all the time. Let’s go.”

“Hey, Iwa-chan, are you devoted to anything?”

Iwaizumi hid a relieved expression. At least Oikawa was finally saying something in full rather than the half-assed responses he’d been giving out the past month.

“Huh? What’re you trying to say? Of course I’m devoted. To volleyball!” Iwaizumi didn’t mean to sound angry, but looking at his best friend’s current state, he couldn’t help but to clench in frustration.

The blue and yellow ball rebounded from the polished hardwood floors into the setter’s expecting grip. “…Was it that? The problem. My ‘devotion’?”

Iwaizumi scratched the back of his neck in earnest before grabbing Oikawa’s wrist to drag him away from the fluorescent spotlight of the gym. Heaving two school bags over his shoulder with his limp friend on the other, Iwaizumi grumbled.

“I don’t get any of the shit you’re saying.”

Iwaizumi lied. He knew exactly what Oikawa was talking about.

══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

Being in the Library Committee came with its own perks.

A peaceful workplace to drown yourself in your own thoughts

Full privilege to a lineup of all the volumes of Hirunaka no Ryuusei

Being the one and only member of the Library Committee

You had always enjoyed the tranquility that the magnificent atrium of papers offered—not a lot of people scourged for outdated reference books anyway. It was a welcoming interlude from your hectic life… Especially with your current state of affairs. But your head was stubbornly rejecting peace.

If it had been a couple months ago, Oikawa Tooru would have been sneaking into the library to avoid getting his head bashed in by Iwaizumi for being ‘too good at Old Maid’. He would have groaned and whined, subtly asking for your attention to make it all better. You would have refused, a blush betraying your response. Either way you would’ve surrendered to a single kiss after all.

The impression seemed so distant despite it being so recent.

Oikawa Tooru could find someone better than you. Someone who didn’t have this mess piled up upon their shoulders. Someone who wasn’t stupid enough to have dated an obsessive, creepy bastard.

You were so sure of the thought… but why do you keep remembering the taste of Oikawa’s lips lingering on yours? It had always suggested a hint of peaches and tropical mango juice. Flavors that had sparked fireworks in the depths of your belly.

In the end, you decided you would stop by Lawson’s after your duties to buy a mango ICE MONSTER bar. Just for the sake of the memory.

══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

“Ah. L/N-san.”

You cursed yourself to a million deaths. What on Earth did you pull to get karma this big? You were sure the constant suppression and cold shoulders from school were enough to cover for your sins against their volleyball superstar. But to encounter said superstar’s best friend at the convenience store (especially with your theatrical “baton pass” to him a month prior) was beyond your gravest punishments.

“I-Iwaizumi-san! Funny to see you here.”

“Ain’t this the only convenience store in the area though?”

God, you idiot. Just can’t keep your mouth shut, can you?

In the deserted frozen food aisle, two Aoba Johsai third years stood faced off with one another. If it were one of your younger brother’s RPG games, Iwaizumi would’ve been an impossibly matchless boss level—emanating all sorts of auras that screamed ‘INDOMITABLE’. And you? A level one player with only a wooden stick at your siege.

Crossing his arms, he huffed. “Anyway, L/N-san, I wanted to talk to you about—”

You prepared yourself for another blow like always. He was probably going to talk about that. But this time, your legs acted faster.

“Um, I have to go! Goodbye, Iwaizumi-san!”

“Huh? Hang on a sec! L/N-san!”

Iwaizumi Hajime, ace of Aoba Johsai Boys’ Volleyball Club, was chasing you. Why was he chasing you?! Your head spun with images of him cutting you up into pieces to serve for Oikawa’s breakfast, lunch and dinner. Merciless. Brutal. Vile. Was this his way of getting you back for dumping Oikawa on his shoulders?

You let out a small shriek, zipping past a bicycle parked horizontally on the sidewalk. Maybe with his large size, Iwaizumi would have to slow down a bit, giving you a chance to—

Vaulting over the bicycle, Iwaizumi only became hairs closer to your hurrying form. “Wait! L/N-san!”

“Please don’t kill me!” You sobbed, turning into a corner. “I have a family I still want to come home to!”

“What the hell are you talking about?” he yelled, the hoarseness of his voice striking horror in your legs. “You didn’t pay for your ice cream!”

“Ha?!”

After dropping off 195 yen on the shop counter and dutifully bowing your head to the cashier at least ten times, Iwaizumi escorted you to the store’s entrance, the light amber of the sky gracing his stern features. For a moment, Iwaizumi Hajime, ace of Aoba Johsai Boys’ Volleyball Club, seemed like a normal high school boy instead of the terrifying column of pure muscle.

“Sorry for chasing you like that… You got the wrong idea and everything too,” he chuckled, low vibrations bobbing in his Adam’s apple.

“It was my fault too,” you cringed, head empty with only the thought of your animalistic instincts kicking in to take you away from ‘danger’. “I was just shocked that anyone would talk to me right now.”

“…Is that so… B-by the way…”

You almost forgot that you had run away just as he was about to beat you to a pulp with his words. You held your breath, feet rooted in place now that you had learned that there was no way you could beat an ace in races.

“We’re on Cleaning Duty tomorrow, right? Don’t forget and bail on me like that asshole Takahashi does.”

Gradually, you felt a World’s Biggest Idiot crown settle on your head. You breathed through your nose and muttered a sullen “yes, yes” before turning around and going your own fine way home. Of course, after apologizing once more to Iwaizumi for making him chase you distances just so you would pay for your treat.

Watching your back shrink into the golden horizon, Iwaizumi scratched his head, heart heavy with the weight your words carried. He probably shouldn’t have stalled his real question to you like that.

══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

Becoming the enemy of Aoba Johsai’s general public didn’t seem so bad at first. At least they weren’t doing all the malicious shoujo manga-esque type of torture. No carved out voodoo dolls or vandalized tabletops.

But the thought didn’t make your sentence seem lighter.

When you had been with Oikawa, everyone suddenly wanted to get to know you. To eat lunch with you. To invite you to hangouts. Now that you’ve broken him, your only worthy punishment was to be broken tenfold.

How cowardly of me. You scowled, the contours of the broom handle etching itself on your palms. I don’t even know if half of Daisuke’s threats were real…

If the texts hadn’t sounded so genuine, you would have probably been laughing it off with Oikawa right now. But you weren’t. And that made you hate yourself for it.

“L/N-san, you okay?”

Pulled back into reality by your ever placid Cleaning Duty partner, you cleared your throat and swept the remaining bits of grime onto the fluorescent green dustpan.

“Y-yeah. I’m alright,” you said eyes flickering from his sharp ones.

Iwaizumi must’ve had some sort of sixth sense because his doubting gaze did not falter the slightest. “Really? You seem especially off today, though. You hungry or something?”

Now he was toying with you. “No I’m not.”

As if it had been cued, your stomach growled and you gritted your teeth in defeat. Stupid, stupid digestion.

“If you’re free after this, I’ll treat you to lunch. We need to talk about some unfinished matters, L/N-san.”

“But—”

“It’s about Oikawa.”

══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

The scent of pork and shoyu weaved into your senses, blinding you with flavor. In the midst of burly men and hearty-looking meals plastered in bold in the quaint shop’s menu, a small high school girl like you did not mingle well with her surroundings.

Sitting across from you was Iwaizumi, attention pinned on a flimsy laminated piece of paper with a list of ramen that seemed to drone on and on. In the heat of the place, both of you had shed your blazers, draping them over the back of your rickety seats. Seeing Iwaizumi’s sleeves rolled up, you shivered at the thought of what those arms could do to you if you had run away from him again.

“Master, I’ll have the Aka Tonkotsu ramen today. Large with extra pork slices as always,” he piped up, catching the brisk nod of the shop owner from the corner of his work station. “How ‘bout you, L/N-san?”

“Um… a glass of mineral water, please. Iced.”

The ramen master and Iwaizumi’s faces twisted into expressions of concern and offense. You were sure you had attracted the attention of few others too with your order… but what was so wrong with just having water though? It wasn’t like you really enjoyed ramen. And your visit here wasn’t really much of your choice…

“Come on, you have to have the ramen here. I’m paying anyway,” Iwaizumi wanted to add in a comment that the prices at this particular shop were extravagantly affordable, but he chose to miss out on that. “Do you like spicy food?”

“I suppose I do—”

Iwaizumi grinned knocking on the wooden table to gain the master’s attention once more. “Make that two large bowls of Aka Tonkotsu, Master!”

You sputtered, ears barely registering his words. “L-large? Iwaizumi-san, I won’t be able to finish that!”

“Huh? Why not though? Your stomach growled really loudly back at school, I’m sure you’ll down the entire thing in seconds. But it’d mostly be caused by how good the ramen here is.”

You noticed how the ramen master’s ears flashed a bright pink. Seriously, how blatant can this guy be with his words… You were sure with the way Iwaizumi talked, he could either have all the girls in Japan swooning over his honesty or have everyone else throwing nasty glances at him. You fell into the latter category.

“About Too—” you paused, although insistent on breaking the frosty wall between the both of you. “Oikawa. I-is he doing well?”

“Well he’s obviously acting more differently than he used to,” Iwaizumi replied in blunt, hands centered on trying to pull the modest pair of wooden chopsticks apart cleanly. Snap. A small chunk of the second chopstick had awkwardly stuck with the first; Iwaizumi frowned. “Why’re you asking? Didn’t you guys break up?”

You puffed out fumes from your nose indignantly. “Aren’t you the one who invited me here to talk about him? Iwaizumi-san, if you’re not going to say anything important I’d rather leave than have you toy with my time.”

Iwaizumi’s hand reached out to scratch his nape—an old habit you had noticed from him countlessly in class, especially when he seemed nervous. “Alright, alright. Geez… don’t tell anyone about it but I’m worried about Oikawa. Trust me, I can tell when he’s being serious about practicing volleyball and when he’s just plain… letting loose. I suspected it had something to do with you because all he’s been doing is mope around like a beaten dog after you dumped him.”

You gulped.

“Why did you break up with him? I know he could be a crappy jerk with volleyballs for brains, but I know he won’t put his ambitions over someone he cares about—he learned that from his first relationship. So why did you do it? Was he finally getting on your nerves too? Or did you get bothered by his fanclub?”

Your hands gripped your skirt until your knuckles turned white. Iwaizumi definitely wasn’t the first person to drop the question on you. But that didn’t make you less nervous whenever you had to respond. Deciding to dodge the bullet like always, you went for a simple “it’s complicated”.

“Two large bowls of Aka Tonkotsu ramen, one with extra pork slices!” the ramen master announced, a bell of dismissal to your relief. “Plus a glass of iced water for the young miss.”

Watching the master limp back to his post, you didn’t notice Iwaizumi sprinkle a dollop of chili powder into his bowl, his sharp gaze cutting through your body. “Whatever. I’ll get it out of you one way or another. You wouldn’t have told me to take care of Oikawa if it wasn’t a serious problem.”

You slipped a stray strand of hair behind your ear, picking up your own chopsticks in the process. Despite the fear that pooled in your stomach from Iwaizumi’s promise, you couldn’t help to anticipate for a person to share the heinous truth with. Murmuring a soft “thank you for the food”, you decided that the truth belonged to another day and enjoyed your meal in silence.

══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

Apparently, Iwaizumi did see your mouth forming the request. When he had brought it up at the ramen shop, you felt your entire universe fall apart at its core. You wanted to punch yourself for even thinking up such an shameless action. Whispering to him to take care of someone he spent his life tackling was useless. Pressing your face into your pillow, you wondered if you could sleep yourself to dematerialization.

Tugging you out from your misery, your cell phone vibrated in vigor before dropping still on your bedside table.

From: Unknown

Subject: This is Iwaizumi Hajime

09:34 PM

Yo. It’s Iwaizumi, save my number ok? I hope you enjoyed the ramen. Did you get home safe?

Right. You and Iwaizumi had exchanged numbers after he had paid an amazingly cheap price for the ramen. The surprisingly succulent ramen that had you gulping down the bowl until it was drained—just like what he’d promised. You’d hate to admit he was right so soon though…

To: Iwaizumi Hajime

Re: [This is Iwaizumi Hajime]

09:36 PM

Thanks for the ramen ^_^~ Also, I got home in one piece, so don’t worry about it.

A few moments after you had pressed the send button, another text came flying into your inbox. Two texts. From two entirely different contacts. The first one was Iwaizumi’s.

From: Iwaizumi Hajime

Subject: You didn’t answer my question

09:36 PM

About our topic of discussion today… are you going to tell me the truth or not? I don’t want to pry it out of a girl, it’d be rude assuming we’ve only started to officially talk today. But just so you know, I won’t give up until I know the reason. It pisses me off to see Oikawa so moody every day. I hope you’ll understand.

Your fingers hovered over your keyboard for a few moments too long to string together a coherent reply. Iwaizumi was a prime example of trust and valour. Sure, you had considered yourself a knight after ‘protecting Oikawa from your dangerous ex-boyfriend’, but now you just seemed like a jerk.

Scrolling over to see the second text loitering in your messages, you felt your blood vessels tighten. The sender’s name was seven syllables long. Seven syllables that you had hoped to never have to thread together ever again.

From: Masayuki Daisuke

Subject: None

09:36 PM

I knew you’d listen to me, Y/N-chan~ You were always such an obedient one, such a good girl. Now that that good-for-nothing playboy has his hands off you, we can be together right? Of course, we’ll have to wait until you graduate high school but that’s just a matter of time.

We’ll get married, Y/N-chan. I’ll make you as happy as you can ever be, even if we have to elope. I’ll even buy us a house in Tokyo, just where you wanted… You made a right decision to leave Oikawa, if you didn’t, I know it’d make you suffer just being in his presence. You belong with me, Y/N-chan, not with anyone above our insignificant roles. He’d make you feel small for the rest of your life… but I’m here for you.

I hope you won’t be unfaithful to me as we count down to the days when we shall begin our lives together. I love you~

Your lips curled into a flat line. All the blood had drained from your fingertips, leaving the fluorescent light of your cell phone to eerily illuminate through the limpid skin. You wanted to vomit, to wail, to look for and tell someone. But who? You couldn’t possibly run and cry to Oikawa. Hell, Iwaizumi and your ‘friends’ were out of the question. And your parents would overreact, making matters worse.

“I hate this,” you grunted, tossing your phone onto the couch across your bed. Maybe you could sleep it off like you usually did. Alas, you didn’t seem to receive a wink of sleep at all. This is bad, you finally admitted.

══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

Iwaizumi Hajime had made it a habit (and a nuisance) to stumble in the library or other parts of the area after school to drag you to the ramen shop and fruitlessly attempt to wring even a droplet of truth from you. On the bright side, the food was always tasty, and you had adapted yourself to genuinely enjoy ramen as a delicacy. Plus, when it came to Iwaizumi’s savory bribes, you never even had to think about pulling your wallet out of your pocket!

Throughout the course of your ‘interrogations’, you had also learned that Iwaizumi was just an awkward puppy hiding beneath a shell of a raucous yankii. Of course, this was all fueled by his concern for his best friend, but nevertheless, you discovered that it didn’t take much to revert the almighty volleyball ace into a flustered mess of a high schooler.

You came to realize why Oikawa loved to tease him to the brim. And why they had stuck together for so long. In fact, if Iwaizumi had been a girl, you were dead sure that Oikawa would pick him over you—he was everything you weren’t and so much more…

Idiot, how long has it been already? Stop thinking about things like that, you braced yourself. Slapping yourself with the leather-bound cover of a weathered Chemistry textbook, you diverted your focus back on the cart of new books you were supposed to arrange.

Quiet hours in the library was especially your favorite time, of course, until Iwaizumi had recently interrupted it with persistence despite his prior knowledge that your duties wouldn’t end until half an hour later. Another trait of his, you had come to realize, was that he was unbearably annoying when he didn’t get what he wanted.

Hearing the clack of the library door’s swing (though much quieter than Iwaizumi’s usual loud shove), you scowled, eyes twitching in annoyance.

“Iwaizumi-san, for the last time! Stop coming in here if you’re not going to read or borrow a book. And don’t ask me the same question over and over again, I can’t tell you why it happened because it’s too—”

Crap.

You felt your heart jump at the sight of a pair of umber eyes that roused an emotion from deep within your memory. You almost didn’t recognize him. He looked taller, much more sturdy. And way too drained.

“Y-Y/N-chan,” Oikawa murmured, your name dripping honey on his tongue like it always had.

You didn’t even stop yourself from calling him by his name. “Tooru…”

You swore you could lock eyes with him for eons. Subtle glances in the hallway didn’t compare to being in Oikawa’s light. When you were with him, he made you feel warm. You missed that warmth. You missed him.

“What are you doing here?” you managed to sputter, eyelids freezing up.

When he broke from your gaze, you felt your heart plummet and shatter. “I just needed to look for a reference book for my English homework.”

It hurt. When you were dating, Oikawa never let the both of you dwindle in silence. He knew silence sickened you to the stomach. When you had broken up with him, he didn’t let silence waver over him either. But having the absence of noise barricading you from him, you felt cold.

“A-ah, you must mean Ogawara-sensei’s literary task…” you murmured, drinking in the appearance of his face, tracing pre-existing etches of it in your head. “Do you want me to help you look for them?”

How stupid of you to ask. Oikawa basically had the map of the library emblazoned on the back of his hand. You would know—it all came from the secret rendezvous he’d pull you into while you still had deemed yourself worthy of being loved by him.

“That would be nice,” he smiled shyly.

You led him into a warmly lit section pulsing with the livelihood of foreign words. Gliding between the wide space between the shelves, your fingers slipped through the seams across the books. It didn’t take you more than 2 minutes to locate a volume spilled with the wisdom you needed to ace Ogawara-sensei’s class.

“William Faulkner? I thought you didn’t enjoy those kinds of works,” Oikawa murmured, almost teasing as he thumbed through the fragrant pages of ink.

Eyes tracing the lettering of ‘A Rose for Emily’, you said, “I don’t particularly dislike this one. Tragic endings aren’t my cup of tea, but the romance really sucks you in.”

“I almost forgot how much of a shoujo otaku you were,” he chuckled, laughter like small bells tinkling in the soft wind. “You always look so serious, but figuring out that you were a sap was the funniest part.”

You puffed out your cheeks indignantly, “It’s not like I can help it! You want me to help you or not? Geez…”

Oikawa’s laughter ruptured in the great expanse, a contagious feeling bubbling in your throat. “Sorry, sorry. It’s just— it’s nice to see you again, that’s all…”

Your heart burst into streams of golden confetti, drawing universes within your chest like Oikawa used to do. He was always more different with you. Less fake, more genuine. More honest. You still hadn’t figured out why he’d go after you, especially with all the pretty girls willing to throw themselves in front of a train for him. You didn’t even have enough guts to ignore your ex-boyfriend.

All the wondering made you dizzy, you wanted to sit down, but Oikawa’s desolate eyes chained you to your spot. Iwaizumi was right. He looked like he had thrown himself across the gym a couple times before staying wide awake for 48 hours. As much as you hated to admit, you wanted to help him.

“Tooru, I’m—”

“Found you!” Both of your heads snapped towards the library entrance, blasted open haphazardly by a burly third year student.

“Iwaizumi-san!”

“Iwa-chan?”

A sly grin crept up the boy’s features, making him look more of an ogre than usual. You felt an uneasy lump dissolving in the pits of your stomach, from the corner of your eye, you spotted Oikawa slumping in what seemed to be defeat.

“Just as planned. Now, anyone hungry for ramen?”

══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

This was by far the most quiet meal you’ve had with Iwaizumi and Oikawa—combined and separately. You didn’t even dare to excuse yourself to the restroom. You haven’t even touched your food either, for all you knew, it was probably already cold.

On the other hand, Iwaizumi was already stuffing his face with today’s special lobster ramen. “What’s wrong, L/N? Ain’t hungry? It’s your favorite dish too.”

Your brows pointed downwards in an annoyed scowl. Iwaizumi wasn’t known to be the best at reading situations anyway. You kicked his shin below the sunken space beneath the table, taking care that Oikawa wasn’t looking.

“Right! Nearly forgot,” if Iwaizumi hadn’t been someone who towered over you, you would’ve pestered him for being such a nuisance. “I damn hope you know why you’re both here.”

You gulped, cheeks reddening at the mention.

“Sorry, is there something I should know about?” Oikawa smiled faintly, a heavy air of concern draped over his shoulders. Sweat began to clump in your palms.

“Ha? Of course you do! You’ve gotta know why L/N broke up with you, right?”

“I-Iwa-chan! I don’t think that’s appropriate to talk about right now. I know for whatever reason Y/N-chan’s got for it, it’s a respectable choice.” Liar. You know I was just being a coward for not telling you, you pursed your lips.

“It’s only respectable until we know what it is,” Iwaizumi boomed, eyes boring into your shrinking figure. “Things don’t just happen for a reason, right, L/N? It’s okay if you tell us.”

“…”

“L/N, it’s for Oikawa’s good. Didn’t you say you wanted him to be happy?”

“Stop that, man. Don’t force her,” Oikawa’s tone wavered between anguish and warning. You almost wanted to leap into his arms. He was so close, sitting right next to you, but for some reason he felt miles away. “But…”

Sucking in a deep breath, you blinked back the tears that threatened to spill. “I don’t—”

The shrill ring of your phone shattered the torrential dilemma that hung in the air. Glancing at the number, you paled to the tips of your toes, all color lost from your skin. No, no, no, no. Not here. Not now.

Throwing your school bag over your shoulder, you stood shakily, hand gripping your phone like a vice. “I-I have to go.”

Turning your back on the two boys, you quickly hurried out the door of the shop, hands too tremulous to drop a tip in the glass jar adorning the entrance. He shouldn’t be here. Why was he here? You’ve had enough. No more. Hanging around Oikawa and Iwaizumi was a deadly mistake you’d swore you’d never repeat. But you were a mere mortal who fell too easily to the temptations of forbidden love. A love you could never have.

“Y/N-chan!” a plush hand wrapped itself around your elbow, throwing you back against a solid wall of warmth. A distinct scent of peaches and mango juice pressed against the crown of your hair, a familiarity you would be forced to pry yourself from.

“Tooru, please…” a single drop escaped your quivering eyes, rolling down your cheek, clumping at your chin. “I can’t do this. You have to let me go.”

“At least tell me what I did wrong. Was I not devoted enough? Did I offend you in some way? Or did you find someone else…?” The bob of his throat wobbled against your head. “I’m sorry that I loved you. I’m sorry.”

To hell with it. Turning in his grasps, you looked into his glassy hues, shining with tears, laced with the afterglow of genuine affection. For you.

“Don’t you ever apologize for loving someone. If someone has to apologize, it’s me!” you barked at him, tears streaming down your face, hot in its trail. “I made a mistake for loving the wrong person. I’m sorry I had feelings for such a psychopath. This was before I met you. Now he’s out to get us and it’s all my fault…”

You paused, burying your face into his uniform, taking in the deep pitter patter of his heart.

“I’m scared, Tooru… He’s been sending threats to me. I don’t want him to hurt you… Please, help me,” you sobbed, ignoring the incoming echo of a lone walker approaching the scene.

“Y/N-chin?”

Dark eyes stared back at yours, emptiness filling it, only a murderous aura emanating from the figure. You watched as Daisuke’s fist closed, veins popping for the world to see. You wondered how your day could get any worse.

“Traitor! You left that bastard just to run back to him?!” he growled against the silent backdrop of the market district. “I promised you a life where you wouldn’t have to feel so inferior. I sincerely love you, Y/N. Why can’t you understand that we’re the type of people who can’t fit in with assholes like… him.”

When Oikawa stepped between the both of you, you felt your heart drop and hang dangerously on a thin string held together by your prayers. “Are you the guy who’s been threatening Y/N-chan the whole time?”

Daisuke turned to you, leering viciously. “Oh, so I’m the bad guy? Don’t do this to me, Y/N-chin. You belong with me. You know that.”

“She doesn’t belong to anyone. Leave her alone, she obviously doesn’t want to be with you.”

A quick gleam of a silver blade caught the gentle light of the setting sun and you felt your mouth go dry. Before a scream could escape your mouth, a vivid thud then a crunch thundered in your ears. You didn’t even want to open your eyes. You didn’t think you could even see with the flood of tears clustering your vision.

“Y/N-chan? Y/N-chan! It’s okay,” Tooru. “It’s okay now. I-I knocked him out.”

Wrenching your eyes wide, you saw Oikawa crouched next to you on the ground, rubbing circles onto your back as he nestled himself in your shoulder. Behind him was Daisuke. Laid spread-eagle on his back, the menacing cutter now seeming so small in his large grip. Next to his bruised head was a single volleyball shoe.

Just about the size of Oikawa’s sock-clad right foot.

══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

A month later

“Ain’t Captain awfully chipper lately?” Kindaichi muttered to his upperclassmen, balancing a ball on his fingertips, only to have it bounce to the floor in an instant.

Hanamaki, while unlacing the intricate knots adorning the nets, shot the first year an incredulous look. Sighing, he said, “You really haven’t heard at all, haven’t you?”

Kindaichi felt it would be too embarrassing to say. He kept quiet.

“He made up with his girlfriend recently. Turned out, she was being threatened by her psycho of an ex-boyfriend if she didn’t break up with him. The guy’s finally behind bars, so I guess that contributes to it too.”

Kindaichi’s eyes lit up. Oh, he knew about this. “I’ve seen that before on the news! Man, must be pretty scary for Oikawa-san’s girlfriend… I honestly wouldn’t be able to do anything if I were her. That’d put too much mental strain on me.”

From behind him, Matsukawa snickered, ruffling the boy’s hair casually, earning him a dirty look. “Don’t try to compare yourself to L/N-san. The tips of your haircut will catch fire if you had the same amount of stress she did.”

“Grilled Napa Cabbage!”

“Hanamaki-san, don’t tease!”

From the other side of the gym, Oikawa Tooru eyed his phone glassily, his pupils on the verge of forming hearts. It was over. It was finally over. Now he was back to his previous routine, with a dash of something new everyday. Same as always. He loved that always—that always was you.

L/N Y/N: I can’t wait to eat with you and Iwaizumi-san today! Thank you Tooru

Oikawa Tooru: Are you sure you don’t want to eat somewhere we usually do? I was a bit surprised that you invited us to the ramen shop ╮( ˘ ､ ˘ )╭

L/N Y/N: Ehhhh??? Do I have to cancel reservations? Do you want to eat somewhere else??

Oikawa Tooru: Just kidding Y/N-chan~ ☆⌒(ゝ。∂) I want to see how much red peppers you can add to your broth before passing out ☆

L/N Y/N: Mean!! ( `ε´ )

Oikawa Tooru: Ehehe~

“Oikawa, let’s go. L/N’s probably waiting for us already,” Iwaizumi called out from the gym’s doors, mouth nearly frothing at the image of free bowls of ramen that he didn’t have to pay for tonight.

Waving off his best friend, he turned to his screen to type out one last message, a soft smile adorning his face. “Happy birthday, Y/N-chan. I’ll cherish you today, tomorrow and the days after that. Thank you for loving me as me.”

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #oikawa tooru #oikawa tooru x reader #oikawa tooru imagine #oikawa tooru scenario #iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi hajime imagine #iwaizumi hajime scenario #aoba johsai x reader #sfw #bruh haikyuu writing #oikawa x reader #iwaizumi x reader #tooru x reader #hajime x reader

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neerasrealm · 4 years

Note

bRO jason or LJ would be great with the record scratch one imo HSHSH

WHEN I SAW JASON AS AN OPTION I LOST IT FHGSDHF. Anyway hi this story is basically Jason getting bullied by Kate the Chaser for 2000+ words. Enjoy.

*record scratch*

*freeze frame*

Yep, that’s me. No, not the vague figure you’re imagining now from the zero amount of information I’ve given you, and no, I’m not the heroic yet relatable main-character you’d expect either. I’m the one that’s currently, and quite poetically, hiding in the corner of a chicken coop. Yeah, that’s the one.

Hi, I'm Jason. I'm a toymaker. And also half- or maybe three quarters demon because I work for an immortal god of chaos and destruction. And for a little more context, I'm in a chicken coop because things went horribly, horribly wrong.

I was given one simple task. Spy on a woman named Kate. Okay, no problem. She's human, average height and weight. Nothing to be concerned about. The only foreseeable threat was the fact that she works for my boss's biggest rival. A man named Slender. I would say creature, but from what I've heard he's rather good at acting civilised, though I've also heard that it's all just an act to lower guards. Regardless, I had no fear of her.

No fear that is, until she happened to catch me watching her via my pet surveillance mouse, Licorice. She smacked the poor thing with a rake! A rake! My poor innocent little surveillance drone...Licorice wouldn't harm a fly…

Eh-hem. Anyway- after she found and assaulted Licorice I tried to make my escape- but she caught me. So I hid in the only place I could.

The chicken coop.

And that's where I am now. Curled up amongst feathers, grain and very upset birds. If I wasn't trying to be quiet, I would've killed them by now. Especially the one that’s pecking my leg. Rude bitch. I have half a mind to strangle you, you know that, chicken?

Wait.

Oh no.

I hear footsteps.

The door to the chicken coop is yanked open and suddenly I’m being glared at by an angry asian lady wearing black and white flannel.

‘’Get outta my coop, bitch boy.’’

Okay, first of all, rude. Second of all, RUDE. third of all,

‘’No.’’

She glares at me.

‘’Alright, that’s it.’’

She climbs into the fucking chicken coop, grabs me by my EXPENSIVE knee high boots and YANKS me out of the coop with strength I didn’t expect from her. I scream and thrash about and kick at her until she lets me go. She stands over me, glaring. I glare right back. She puts her hands on her hips, channeling the energy of an angry texan grandma. If I wasn’t British I’d probably be terrified right now.

‘’Who gave you permission to go snoopin’ around my property?’’

‘’I don’t need permission to snoop anywhere,’’ I growl back. ‘’I do as I please.’’

"So you admit you WERE snoopin'!" She points an accusing finger at me.

"No, I was just saying I don't need permission to snoop." I cross my arms and give her a smug look. The word snoop sounds really weird now that we keep saying i- "AH!"

She yanks me by the collar of my rather EXPENSIVE shirt. Blue eyes glare into mine between strands of dark hair. ‘’Jason,’’ she growls. ‘’Tell me what the fuck you’re doing here before I crack your skull open like an over-ripe cantaloupe.’’

I glare at her. ‘’...Fine.’’ I sigh. ‘’I was asked to look into you since you’ve changed location. It was suspected that you were doing something, or perhaps Slender had changed his base of operat-’’ I’m interrupted by her letting go of my collar and rudely placing her muddy boot on my nice clean clothes. ‘’HEY!’’

‘’I fucking moved out, Jason. Jesus. Can Zalgo just calm his tits? Do I have to live in fear of the bastard for the rest of my life just because of Slender?’’

‘’Yes, you do.’’ I glare at her. ‘’Maybe you should have considered that before becoming his proxy.’’ She rolls her eyes and lifts her foot off of me. I brush dirt off myself but- that mud isn’t going to come off easily...these were expensive clothes too…

‘’Get up.’’

‘’I’m not taking orders from you!’’

‘’Then maybe I should tell Slender I found a creepy redhead sitting up a tree watching me!’’

"Hey! I am not creepy!"

Kate glares down at me, her hands on her hips again. After a few moments of stubborn silence, I stand up and brush dirt off myself. She folds her arms.

"I won't tell Slender about this if you do somethin' for me." She says. I squint.

"Are you trying to blackmail me?" I murmur. She nods.

"Yep. I have a fence that needs fixin', along with some stuff in the house and fields. If ya help me I won't tell Slenderman I found ya creepin' around my property."

What the hell does this woman take me for? I'm not going to let her blackmail me! I glare at her and cross my arms. "Absolutely not." I say before turning and walking away. Hah! That'll show her! I'm simply going to walk away from my problems!

"Aren't ya forgettin’ somethin'?" I turn and look at her and stare in horror. She's holding my beloved mouse from her tail, swinging her from side to side like she's a toy rather than a beloved pet!

"LICORICE!" I yelp and run towards her to grab back my poor pet. Kate moves out of the way with surprising speed. I suppose that's why her nickname is 'The Chaser'.

"Ah ah ah." She wags a finger at me, teasing me. "Not until you help me."

"What?!" Licorice is being held ransom now?! I stare at Kate in horror. She smirks. "...fine! Fine, I'll do it! Just- don't hurt licorice...please…"

"That's the spirit, jacey-boy!" She chirps. Dear god I hope she never calls me that again. She stuffs licorice back into her pocket and smiles smugly. "Now c'mon."

Begrudgingly, I follow her to her home. It’s a large country house, with a spacious wooden deck. Inside is just as cozy as you’d expect. This is actually a nice place- I wouldn’t mind living here myself if it wasn’t on a farm. I don’t like farms. They smell bad.

‘’Alright, here we go.’’ She leads me into the kitchen. There’s a toolbag on the kitchen table. She picks it up and holds it out to me. ‘’There’s some broken bannisters on the stairs. Think you can fix them up?’’

‘’I guess if there’s replacement bannisters.’’ I grunt.

‘’In the shed out back. And after you’re done that, you can fix some holes I found in the walls upstairs,’’ she shrugs at me. ‘’I think the past owner had a teenage son. Punched the shit outta the place.’’

‘’Of course he did…’’ I take the toolbag and sigh. ‘’Fine.’’

I march out the backdoor and find her shed. Walking inside, the bannisters I need are laying on a table. It smells of fresh paint in here- I actually quite like that smell...I grab the bannisters and march back inside. The bitch is making coffee instead of- you know, working like I am. I glare at her as I walk back into the hallway. Her stairs are completely missing several bannisters- six to be exact. With a sigh, I put down the bannisters and rummage through the bag for a drill. Why does she think I’m qualified to fix stairs anyway? Because I’m a toymaker?? I mean- yeah I know how to fix things like this- but still! My skills are more in carving and painting and sewing...ugh…

I pull out the drill I need and get to work. It’s a simple process. Drill a nail into the stairs, drill a matching hole into the bannister, then screw it on. Nothing too difficult- the only bad part is the sawdust that gets everywhere. Not my problem though- at least I hope it isn’t. If she makes me clean it up I’ll be mad.

‘’I finished.’’ I growl to Kate as I walk back into the kitchen. ‘’What next?’’

She’s eating fucking banana bread. Taunting me with the fact that I’m doing all of her work for her. Fuck you, Kate. Fuck you. If I was in a room with Slenderman and you and I had one bullet, I’d shoot Slender and beat you to death myself. Fuck you AND YOUR BANANA BRE-

‘’There’s plaster and newspaper upstairs. You can stuff the holes up and plaster over ‘em.’’ she smiles at me. Ah. I didn’t need to come in here at all. I could have avoided seeing the accursed banana bread…

I go upstairs like a good slave laborer. The bucket of plaster and stack of newspapers is sitting right next to the top of the stairs. How did I miss it? Ugh. Whatever- ripping up the papers to stuff up the holes in the walls is actually kind of fun. I haven't made anything with paper mache in a while...it’s kind of time consuming to make but still fun!

Thinking about paper mache makes the time go by much much faster. By the time I’ve patched up every single hole in the wall I’ve almost completely forgotten why I’m so angry! It’s nice- being productive always helps me calm down and forget why I’m so stressed…

‘’Hey, Jason!’’

Ah. I remember now. I look down the stairs at Kate. She smirks a bit. ‘’Ya done?’’

‘’Yes.’’

‘’Good! Ya can help me with the fence then!’’

Ugh. With a huff I walk downstairs and follow her outside. She leads me to a wooden fence that’s broken down and barely standing. Next to it is a shovel, some timber and more tools. She picks the shovel up and starts digging around the fencepost. Together, the two of us remove the rotten wood from the bottom of the post, fill up the hole, and replace the rest of the rotten and broken wood. By the time we’re done I’m covered in dirt, and sweaty. I huff and take off my jacket, holding it under my arm. Kate does something similar, tying her flannel shirt around her waist. She stretches, cracking her back and grunting.

‘’Are we done yet?’’ I growl. Kate smirks.

‘’Almost. Just need ta water some crops.’’ she strides past me. ‘’C’mon Jacey. It won’t take long.’’

‘’Don’t call me Jacey.’’

She laughs and leads me over to the field I was watching her in. There's a short pipe with a hose attached to it just by the gate leading into it. She picks up the hose and hands it to me. ‘’Just sprinkle some water over ‘em, got it?’’

‘’I know how to water plants. I’m not dense.’’

Her lips curl up into a smile. ‘’Good. I’m gonna go check on Marigold.’’ she says before wandering away. I frown.

‘’Who’s Marigold?’’ I call after her.

‘’My cow!’’ she yells back. ‘’Now get to work before I feed your mouse to her!’’

Cows don’t even eat mice...stupid bitch. Hmph. begrudgingly, I walk along the small paths in between each line of crops, sprinkling each one with water. She has all sorts of things growing according to the small wooden signs stuck into the dirt. Carrots, potatoes, tomatoes...being a farmer sounds like a hellish lifestyle, but having your own fresh ingredients for cooking does sound appealing...

‘’Jason!’’

Just as I’m watering the last of her plants she calls me. I glance over at her. She waves at me from the other end of the field. With a sigh, I walk all the way over to the gate where she’s standing.

‘’Yes?’’

‘’Ya wanna feed the chickens?’’

‘’No.’’

‘’Great!’’ she grins at me. Great, now I have to feed the bloody things. As if hiding amongst them earlier wasn’t degrading enough. I put the hose back where I found it and turn to her. She holds out a bucket filled with seeds, grain and berries. I take it and frown.

‘’What is this?’’

‘’Chicken feed. Duh.’’ she rolls her eyes. ‘’C’mon. This is the last thing, promise.’’ I follow her back to the accursed chicken coop. The chickens, there’s seven of them, are just wandering around, pecking aimlessly at the ground. Kate claps her hands and the demon birds all look up. Kate looks at me and gestures to the chickens. ‘’Well c’mon. They’re waitin’.’’

With a sigh I reach into the bucket, grab a handful of feed, and toss it to the ground. Immediately it’s swarmed by bloodthirsty- er- bloodhungry chickens who peck the ground aggressively. Out of fear for my safety I continue tossing feed at the birds. Admittedly it is fun seeing chickens rapidly look around in confusion when they’re hit on the head with their own food. This isn’t actually too bad. These chickens aren’t all that ba-

‘’Ow!’’

I TAKE IT BACK ONE OF THE FUCKERS JUST PECKED MY FOOT. I kick at the aggressive bird. It flutters back and I give it my best sneer. Kate clicks her tongue and I look up at her.

‘’Bad idea, Jacey.’’

Huh? Wha- ‘’OW-’’ I stumble back and away from the flock of chickens pecking at my good nice boots. I drop the bucket of feed, stumble on a rock, and fall straight into the muddy ground. I stare at the sky, eyes wide. What- what the fuck...since when are chickens so- aggressive?? I sit up slowly and stare at the demon hens in fear, then at Kate who is aggressively laughing. I glare at her, regain my lost dignity out of spite, and stand up.

‘’Can I go now?’’

‘’Mmm…’’ she rocks on her heels, smirking and considering it for a moment. ‘’Sure. I think ya’ve done everything I need.’’ she pulls her hands out from behind her back and holds out a tupperware container as I walk over to her. What- why is she-

Oh.

Oh if she put licorice in there-

‘’Licorice!’’ yep she did. Bitch. I pick up my beloved mouse and cradle her in my hands, dropping the container in the process. ‘’Oh there you are sweetie...I’m sorry- did the mean lady trap you in there? You poor thing.’’ Licorice squeaks in distress as I pet her gently and kiss the top of her little head. ‘’I know, I know- don’t worry Jason’s here, she isn’t going to hurt you anymore my sweet.’’

Licorice rolls up onto my shoulder and snuggles up against my collar. I pat her again and glare at Kate. She smiles sweetly at me.

‘’Get off my property.’’

‘’Gladly.’’

#ask #clowningking #request #writing #writing requests #jason the toymaker #kate the chaser #creepypasta #creepypasta fanfic #creepypasta fanfiction #writing from jason's perspective is so fun fshdghjagfs

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trashpandaorigins · 4 years

Text

The Body Keeps the Score Ch. 14 Reckoning

"You said it yourself bitch, we're the Guardians of the Galaxy." Gamora is finally a part of something. But the past always follows you, eats at you and she must come to grips with her deeds as she tries to build a future. Meanwhile Rocket has never cared much for anyone or anything. Together the two of them discover they are more alike than different and try to heal themselves by befriending the other.

*Content Warnings: Mentions of child/animal abuse, trauma, character death, physical torture/pain*

Title of this fic is taken from the book of the same title "The Body Keeps the Score: Brain, Mind, and Body in the Healing of Trauma," by Bessel van der Kolk

I can see you in the distance, and you're heading for a fall

Sinking deeper by the minute, you're about to lose it all

You better change, before the sun goes down

You better leave, before you are the last in town.

You better raise, your fortresses or tear them down

Better Change - Dan Fogelberg

Rocket’s claws clinked against the metal plating on his collar bones, tap tap tapping against the rusted pieces. He curled in his bunk, but despite his efforts nothing replicated that surreal cautious tenderness with which someone besides Groot had dared touch those metal bolts. It was …...nice. It warmed something inside him that had been cold. Some dark place devoid of light where he had poured his malice and hatred at the world. None but Groot, the old Groot, the real Groot, the one who was gone had ever shed any light on that space inside of him. Until now. No one else besides the flora had ever touched him without wanting to hurt him, change him, upgrade or improve or experiment on him. And, like the monster he was...he’d returned the favor with betrayal. He lowered the protective mask and fired more plasma at the Hadron enforcer’s core, sealing it. No it probably didn’t need any fine-tuning but Rocket’s mind spun for something, anything to tinker with, so an upgrade it was.

“Hey, Rocket?!” Quill called over the intercom, “Can you come up here? We got a situation.” The hair on the ringtail’s back rose with irritation,

“If this is about the patch job I do more work on this hunk of junk than any of yous so make Drax repair it!”

He threw down his equipment and made his way to the main deck.

“M Groot!” The little flora rolled into the hall, giggling and munching on the tiny leaf that grew from his own arm. Rocket’s mouth twitched in an amused smile, scooping the little thing up.

“There you are.”

“I...a...am Groo..ot!”

“Quill was tossing you?”

“I am Groot!”

“Tsch, well if he did that , I’m about to get my blasters and…”

The words died in his mouth. Three Nova Corps ships, and six officers surrounded them. Rocket instantly recognized the man to the left, the one whom he had called just terran hours ago. How’d they get here this fast? The engines on those things must be over twenty quarstones.

“Peter Jason Quill and the Guardians of the Galaxy, well we didn’t think we’d be seeing you so soon. Honestly, I’m impressed you made it this far without coming up on our radar.”

Rocket reached for his holster, his other paw reaching up to his shoulder where Groot perched curiously out from behind his ear.

“What is this about Nova,” Quill’s attempt at diplomacy appeared ineffective. The officer, one whom Rocket did not recognize, shook her head. He slid his gaze over to Gamora who stood beside Quill, as stern and expressionless as ever, arms folded and stance secure.

“If this is about the Platain town I massacred...that was….a while ago,” Drax defended, both of his knives out and ready. The Nova officers ignored him.

“Lady Gamora,”

Fuck…. Rocket cursed inwardly. His body tensed, grip tightening around his sidearm. Fuck...fuck...fuck you stupid piece of pelt….you really thought you could get away with this. After all she’s done for you? You fucking monster.

“You are under arrest for endangering your fellow crew, illegal pursuit of a fugitive and to prevent further actions against innocent plants and peoples.”

Three of them encroached, the man holding cuffs.

“Hey, hey!” Quill stepped between them. “There’s gotta be a misunderstanding! You sure your not thinking of the other daughter of Thanos? The bald one with the metal. What’s her name? Nebula? Yeah her! She’s the one you ought to be after!”

“Step aside Starlord,” the Nova officer ordered. Quill grinned cheekily,

“Uh uh, I see what you're doing, but validating my badass outlaw name is not going to make me turn Gamora over.”

Shoot! Run! Get the flark out of here! The machine...or heart...whatever was in his chest raced with trepidation. Take Groot and go! He slipped his revolver out of it’s holster and gripped it tight.

“There must be a mistake,” Gamora clarified evenly. She made no move for her sword even as the officers side-stepped Quill. “I was going after Nebula. But she is no more a daughter of Thanos than I am.”

“Family relations aside, we have deemed you too reckless to be allowed out in the Galaxy unchecked. You were given your chance.”

“What chance? I’ve done nothing but pursue Nebula who is a direct threat not only to myself but to every planet she lands on.” She spoke like someone who’d talked her way out of dangerous situations before.

“That’s enough,” the woman Nova officer dismissed with a wave of her hand. “Take her away, she can answer to Nova Prime.”

“No no, no, wait man that’s not what we agreed to!” Quill exclaimed, “we just saved your lousy planet, remember?” The officers moved for Gamora, the one with the handcuffs approaching first. Rocket watched her strike the man, he didn’t even realize she’d unsheathed her sword. He fell to the ground with a thud. One down, five more to go.

“Damn it!” Quill’s blasters were out in seconds, and Drax charged forward towards the three Nova ships with uproarious laughter. Rocket took aim instantly shooting at the man he’d spoken with not long ago. The man dodged, just in time to duck and take his own shot. Rocket leapt away, the hiss of the bullet ringing in his ears. Behind him Drax shouted something obscene, rushing to beat down the third Nova officer who was making a run for Gamora. She grunted, kicking him in the temple and ran her sword through his side.

“Guys the ships they….!” Quill shouted, but Rocket didn’t need to hear the end of his words. Two of the Nova officers had gone back to their ships, now firing volleys at them and the Benatar.

“Get back to the ship!” Gamora was screaming, pivoting as three rounds of fire shot towards her. Rocket, reached behind him to grab the Hadron Enforcer, grasping blindly for the handle,

Shit…! Shit! Shit!

“I am Groot!”

The frightened saplings cry sent his blood coursing with fright. Shaking, he dropped to all fours just in time for a Nova Officer to run at him. He slid on the ground and spun, firing at the man’s back.

“Die! Die!” Drax cackled, running towards the ramp of the Benatar.

“Get the people in the ships you dumb ass!” Rocket yelled, wincing at the sound of crumpling metal. They’d only just repaired the ship!

“Groot hang on,” he instructed, he’d have to get closer to get the best shot with a revolver. He ran forward to the Nova Officer’s ships. He darted instinctually on all fours, dashing from side to side and leaping up the nearest tree, scurrying out on a limb and dropped down on top of the ship.

From this position, he could see Gamora grappling with the remaining officers, Drax and Quill on either side of her. The officer inside the ship sent solar flares at the Benatar with unrelenting force. Rocket stood over the glass dome, taking aim and shot. The glass shattered, the man inside looked up in shock, cursing something before the ringtail jumped on top of him. Clawing, scratching, biting. Tearing into the fabric of the man’s uniform. His enhanced claws scratched the metal painfully.

“I am Groot!” Groot shrieked, desperately holding on to the straps of the raccoonoid’s jumpsuit.

“Get off me!”

The officer flailed, kicking, the ship rocked. Rocket stumbled backward, turning as the whole ship veered to the left, the hail of solar beams skated from the Benatar towards Quill, Drax and Gamora fought.

No! NO! NO! NO!

Rocket spun, grabbing the controls, throwing his weight against the gun, shoving with all his might.

“Quill!” Gamora’s shout caught his ears even from inside the ship. He looked up, stomach buckling. The humie was down, the woman’s arm around him. Drax brought down the remaining officer with a quick thrust of his knife through the man’s jugular.

“Why you!” The Nova Officer behind him yanked at the scruff of Rocket’s neck with his glove torn hand. The ringtail snarled, teeth bared. He lunged forward, pointed incisors sinking into soft flesh. Warm, metallic blood spurted, filling the raccoonoid’s nostrils in a frenzy. He snarled, gnawing. The man screamed, ripping out handfuls of fur, pulling on his tail. Rocket’s teeth latched around something hard, there was an audible crack and something wet, fleshy quivered in his mouth. He rent backward, blood smattering against his fur. The Nova officer pressed his hands to his throat, gurgling.

Rocket starred, his entire body shaking, fur raised. His claws curled. In a heated rage he watched the man’s open neck, twitching, ghastly and shredded.

“I am g...g...Groot…”

The ringtail turned, still heaving for breath. The tiny flora pointed towards the ship. Rocket wiped his muzzle with the back of his paw and grabbed Groot in his blooded claws, running back to the others. Iron sweet blood slick on his tongue, he swallowed as he ran trying to get the taste out of his mouth.

“There you are furry friend, I did not know where you….what happened to your face?”

“T...take Groot,” the raccoonoid offered the sapling to the Destroyer who accepted without question.

“Quill!” Rocket shouted, eyes scanning the man for any wound as they half ran half limped up the ramp into the Benatar. “Quill, yah alright?!”

“Y...yeah,” the man wheezed, one hand pressed to his side. “It was just a graze.” Rocket snorted, though no less comforted. “You think you can get us out of here?”

“She’s taken a few bad hits but I can get her going.” The raccoonoid nodded, scrambling to the flight deck and revved up the engines.

Come on, come on, come on!

He thrust the engines up and forward adrenaline still coursing through him. He licked his lips, whiskers twitching. The Benatar rumbled, grumbled and spat, finally lifting off from Recseta.

“Drax, what’s the nearest planet?”

“Tarque. The largest planet in the Keystone Quadrant.”

Good enough.

They raced through the jump port.

---

“Where we headed?”

Quill’s voice jolted Rocket from his reverie. The ringtail licked at the inside of his mouth, the taste of blood still lingering.

“Tarque, not far.”

The human nodded, collapsing with a sigh into the co-pilot seat.

“So I’ll live, in case you were wondering,” he lamented. Rocket shook his head, ears flattened making a concerted effort to appear irritated.

“I wasn’t.”

“Okay, well we’ll stop on Tarque. Hopefully Nova hasn’t sent backup and we’ll be able to resupply before they find us. If we weren’t wanted before they’ll really be after us now.”

“Really?!”

Rocket hissed, punching autopilot. He cursed, climbing down from the seat and taking off to his quarters.

“You really did it now…” he muttered to himself, storming down the rickety stairs. His fists balled, tail thrashing.

How the flark and I am going to…

Something hard hit against his face, he teetered backward. Looking up and instantly away with shame.

“Gams!”

She looked down at him, stepping around him and down the hall with a grunt.

Rocket’s stomach threatened to empty itself before he made it to his quarters. Even ignoring Groot who called for him as he passed.

---

Tarque was just populous enough to comfortably hide a band of outlaws in plain sight. Not nearly as big as Knowhere, but still….Rocket could not calm his tight muscles. The cybernetics in his back ached, tugging at his flesh with the slightest movement.

“I’m gettin’ a drink, don’t wait up for me,” he grumbled as they departed the Benatar.

“No! Dude! We need to stick together! We need supplies! We can’t risk landing on another habitable planet for awhile! We have to get…”

the human’s voice quickly died off in the crowd of aliens. Rocket walked in a daze through the streets. Eyes shifting between the people as they bustled and brawled. It took no time to find a dank, dreary dive bar.

“Evmon’s” the sign proclaimed. Rocket peered in to the hazy room. A bartender cleaned glassed, only two other patron’s kept to themselves on either end of the long bar.

Perfect.

He shoved the door open, hauled himself up onto the stool and ordered two shots of Urkven.

If anything can wash the taste of that guys blood out of my mouth, it’s Urkven.

---

“You,” a voice seethed.

Rocket’s mind swam with the alcohol he had consumed in the last...well...he wasn’t keeping track of the time and the foul fleshy taste of the Nova officer’s neck was not washing away as he’d hoped.

“You betrayed me to the Nova Corps.”

“N...no I didn't,” he slurred, groping for the glass before him.

“What did they offer you?” She fumed stalking over to him out of the darkness. “Units?”

“....yeah,” he burped a little and took another drink. “Lots of units.”

“What were those units going to buy you, Rocket?” Gamora’s voice rose beyond rage “Weapons for your anger? Booze for your pain? Friendship? Sympathy? Answers?!” She glared at him with such ruthless disappointment the raccoonoid almost had the audacity to look ashamed. “I thought we were worth more than units. I thought you learned your lesson.”

“What lesson?” Rocket managed a sneer.

“That there are things more precious than bombs or ships or getting rich. Family....empathy...” Rocket rolled his eyes. “You know who taught me that?”

“Lemme guess, Star Shit?”

“Groot.” Gamora answered shortly. Rocket watched her face shift from livid contempt to something he couldn’t name. Something softer...sadder. The thing in his cybernetically enhanced chest nearly shorted out.

“I thought...we were a family after that. That we could be something better. Groot taught me that. That’s what his sacrifice meant to me. I thought....I was sure it would mean something to you too. I thought if anyone could get through to you it would’ve been him.”

She looked down at her glass, tapping her finger against the rim. Hair fell over her shoulder obscuring her face.

“I was wrong about you both. I guess his death wasn’t worth much after all. Not to you anyway.” She turned back to face him, eyes searing as she looked down at him with disgust.

“You were right Rocket. You are a monster. I’m sorry Groot didn’t realize that sooner. It would’ve saved him if he had.”

She looked down at her hands.

“The people from Halfworld were right. I should’ve given you back to them.”

Sobriety came crashing back to the ringtails mind, brought on by stomach dropping dread.

“Y….you wouldn’t....”

“No but I should have. I wouldn’t do that though. I’m not like you.”

“W...what?” Rocket tried to conceal the hurt in his voice trying to stop it from shaking already afraid of what she was going to say. Even his bravado has its limits.

“Your heart. You have none. The only thing that's there is a cybernetic pump. No different than this tap,” she gestured to the bar.

“At least the bar tap can bring people joy and comfort.”

“Shut up! You don’t know what the flark your talking about!”

“I saw the scans Rocket. You had them saved on your data pad. You want to know what was in there?” She jabbed a finger towards his chest,

“A metal pump with wiring connected to your main circulatory system. There’s no heart. Just a machine.”

His tail trashed madly, claws curling around the bottle in his paws so tight it smashed.

“Shut up! You're no better than Thanos! You’re a murderer and a killer and you’ll always be one!

Gamora curled her fists, ready to strike. He braced for it, but the blow never came. Instead she only slammed her knuckles into the counter.

“Papa Thanos never should’ve let you out to Ronan and we never should’ve trusted you!” He bared his red stained teeth. “You’re worse than Thanos, he knows he’s an evil son of a bitch, but you,” Rocket stood up on the counter of the bar, leaning in to the assassin woman’s face so close his nose nearly touched hers. “You pretend to be good and care about people! Your worse than him! I hope Nebula finds you! I hope she murders your cybernetic ass!”

Gamora’s hand swung out grabbing him by the back of the head and lifting him off the bar counter with ease. She strode out the door and dropped him with a thud on the hard ground.

Rocket rubbed his head, staggering to his feet.

“When we get back to the ship, I’m telling the rest of them what you’ve done,” she threatened.

“N...no!” the ringtail shouted, turning his back on her. He dragged himself off, into the thin alley between the bar and the next building. If Gamora saw him go, she didn’t bother to follow him.

---

The ringtail slid down the wall, onto the trash infested ground. Gamora’s furious green face screamed at him everytime he closed his eyes.

He smelled of filth and stale booze, his stomach lurched and he wretched onto the ground beside him. The world spun in a dizzying mess.

Where was Groot? Where was Groot to tell him Gamora was wrong? To tell him he did in fact have a heart, a real one? Maybe If I finish this bottle I can find out. He smiled at the thought. His head lolled to the side to see the cracked green bottleneck still clutched in his claws. The big dumb flora smiled at him in his imagination. If Groot were here we could run off, if Groot were here…. he’d curl up in those long wooden arms and sleep off this terrible nausea. If Groot were here he’d...be ashamed that he had sold Gamora to the Nova Corps.

The thought made the raccoonoid sick again, vomiting.

“Hey! Look what we have here?”

Something hard knocked Rocket in the ribs. He doubled over curling in a ball.

“Give us your units rat!”

A flash of white pain exploded across his head. Everything went dizzy. Something trickled down his fur and dripped onto the cold ground. He tried to reach for his gun, but hard fingers grabbed around his wrist, twisting it. He yelped in pain,

Groot!

He tried to snarl and bite, but the assailants shoved him against the wall; a hand closing around his throat.

“Where are your units?!”

“I d...don’t got n..no uni...units!”

The fist smashed into his stomach again, knocking the breath from him. He gasped, small claws scraping frantically. The second attacker pulled at his tail, the tender bone snapping. Rocket chittered with agony before being flung to the ground once more. Fingers rifled through his pockets but try as he might the raccoonoid could not move.

“S...stop! St….aghh,” he gagged as three feet at once beat into his stomach and back. The paneling in his spine twinged and spasmed, pinching his nerves and crushing his bones.

“Hey!”

A bright flash of yellow light streamed by, screams, shouting.

“Leave him alone!”

Rocket opened his eyes a sliver,

“Quill?”

More shots, the man ran into his attackers, shooting and beating at them until they ran.

“Rocket!” The humie was at his side in an instant.

“Oh shit man, I’m sorry I didn’t come in time. Gamora said she found you at a bar….I just didn’t know which one! There’s so many of em and…”

Rocket yowled as the human attempted to lift him up.

“Sorry man, but we gotta go, I heard the word Nova’s on our tail already.”

The man’s words drifted into his ears and out again, replaced by Gamora’s.

I thought you learned your lesson. I thought...we were a family after that. That we could be something better. Groot taught me that. That’s what his sacrifice meant to me.

His vision clouded even as Quill tucked him safely to his chest and hurried through the city. He tried to imagine Groot’s branches; the soft little lights of spores, the smell of earth...but all his nose could sniff was alcohol and vomit.

He had to do something. What would Groot do? No fuck that, Groot would NEVER betray his friends. What...what would Groot want him to do? Make it right. But how?

Rocket swallowed, tasting the blood of the Nova officer still stuck to his throat.

---

On the Benatar, after Quill had forced him to drink water and sit in the common area the raccoonoid slowly began to regain his thoughts, slipping off the couch and heading for the weapons storage.

“Rocket!”

The raccoonoid jolted in panic, but steadied a little upon seeing the humie. He grabbed several guns and a med kit, stuffing them into his pack.

“What are you doing?”

“Somethin’ I shoulda done a while ago.”

He sniffed, taking a casing of bullets and made for one of the escape pods.

“Dude, where are you going?”

“Someplace I’ll probably regret,” he whispered slowly, checking the fuel saloge. “If I’m not back in four turns just...just take care of Groot okay?”

“Rocket…” Quill reached out a hand to him.

Either Gamora hasn’t told him yet...or he’s even dumber than I thought.

“He needs watering everyday, twice a day. Make Sure he still sleeps in his pot and that he gets enough sunlight. He should be under the portrain lamp for at least thirty nano secs. But not too much or he’ll dry out.”

“Rocket, man where are you going?”

The ringtail punched the codes, opening the pod and strapped in. Looking up at the humie who blinked down at him, naive and innocently unaware. It made the heart. ..no, machine in his chest cinch.

“If I’m not back just tell Gams….tell her I’m sorry, kay?”

“Rocket whatever is going on we can talk this out man!”

“No. We can’t. Trust me.”

He looked away before that stupid face made him change his mind. He punched in the coordinates.

“Fine,” Quill muttered. Trusting him.

Something thudded into Rocket’s lap. He paused, glancing up at the humie again.

“Quill, I can’t...take one of your elemental blasters.”

“You're not taking it. Your borrowing it,” the man corrected, smiling. The raccoonoid looked over the weapon and sighed heavily, taking it in his paws and strapped it to his side. He couldn’t bring himself to look at the man’s face again. But pressed the release button, holding his breath as the escape pod released.

#my writing #the body keeps the score fic #groot #baby groot #drax the destroyer #drax #rocket raccoon #gamora #peter quill #star lord #gotg fanfiction #gotg fanfic #Guardians of the Galaxy #this is a duzy #gamora and rocket friendship

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medea10 · 5 years

Text

My Review of One Punch Man 2

#one punch man #one punch man 2 #Saitama #genos #garou #fubuki #bang #king

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detectiverickitubbs · 4 years

Note

“You’re lucky I came by when I did, or else you’d be dead.” Vin studied his friend from her position in the pool. "Right now you're just more fish 'en anythin'." All things considered, he was taking the news that his friend had fallen in a pool and sprouted a tail fairly well. Looking at her again and then looking at the scene, he added. "Was this Vice related or somethin' else?"

She’d been wrestled forcefully to her knees before Maximillian LeFonse Legba. A well known Haitian gang leader who, by all accounts was supposed to be dead. She and Crockett greeted his remains as they went through customs. They had both borne witness to the body enclosed in the casket and even signed papers to attest to it. Ricki had even half-jokingly checked for the nonexistent pulse. Last time Tubbs checked, Legba wasn’t in possession of resurrection powers. What had he stumbled upon? Love potion number 9 where the ol’ hag Madame Ruth with the golden tooth got her viles crossed? Whatever the answer, it sure did beat the hell outta the undercover cop now at his mercy.

Perpetually watchful hues follow Legba as he descends forebodingly upon her like a hurricane. A needle of a questionable substance is displayed before her and his other minions- both the witting and unwitting. “Don’t do it.” She tersely urges, straining to keep her voice calm. She shrugs and fusses with all her strength, trying to seize the upper hand from the guards keeping her down. But the efforts are to no avail, allowing for a terrible pinch in the side of her neck.

The drumming of her heartbeat swells, raising rhythmic alarms in every corridor of her mind. Her evergreen and coffee hues which, had attentively been seeking out an exit since the moment of her capture, falter in their mission. The vibrant array of colors surrounding her grow hazy and dim until they all out cease to exist in a river of darkness.

Suddenly, her body is enveloped by a chilling cold. Lungs that had been effortlessly recycling air began to burn horribly causing Tubbs’s eyes to snap open. Water?! How in the world had she gotten there?! She can not recall. Struggling hands began to flail, eagerly pulling about for the surface. Her legs attempted to kick but there is a tangible resistance as if, she had become entangled in a tight net or hell even rolled in a carpet. The more she struggled, the less progress she seemed to be making towards reaching fresh air. Grasping a rope that had been lowered to her by Vin, Tubbs uses what little remains of her strength to emerge. Trembling hands grip the side of the pool as tightly as possible as she begins to sputter out chlorinated contents. He wasn’t wrong. Without his presence and the rope he’d thrown her, she would have drowned. She forces several sharp inhales to try and quiet the choking sounds.

“Fish!” Tubbs hoarsely bellows, brushing sopping ebony strands out of her face. Batting her eyes a few times to rid herself of clear crystalline orbs, she turns to gaze at the lower half of her own body. Sure enough, Vin’s assessment that had been interpreted as an ill-timed joke, happened to be correct. Where her legs had been there was now a long trail of aquamarine and pink scales connected to two oversized fins. She gives them an exploratory kick just in case her eyes were playing tricks on her. To her astonishment, she discovers that the fins are all too painfully real. This was definitely going to be fun to explain to Castillo, Crockett, and the rest of the Vice department when she couldn’t comprehend the change herself. ‘Legba’. Her semi-coherent mind offered. Her clouded hues turn upwards towards Vin with the introduction of his inquiry. “I know y… you won’t believe this,” Tubbs gulps, bouying herself as best she can. “Legba injected me with something before I blacked out.” Voodoo that had been a joke to her at the start of this case seemed far less humorous; given the surprising twist of circumstances. She doesn’t even mention that there could have been shady science or magic at play. Tubbs figures he is smart enough to arrive at that conclusion himself. Though internally, she personally preferred the shady science route because it could be more easily explained. Or could it?

She lowers herself in the water slightly, becoming aware that her expensive suit-jacket had been stripped from her and was probably discarded. Her blouse though it remained, clung clumsily to her dark skin. While the scales underneath the now transparent fabric concealed most of the important parts, it still exposed more of her figure than she was comfortable with. Whatever happened to her designer bustier- that was another mystery. One Tubbs was DEFINITELY going to kill Legba for.

Still, in spite of having more than ample oxygen being drawn into her lungs. Something is miserably awry!!! The Chlorine’s poison gradually sinks its white-hot tendrils into her veins, spreading deeper and deeper with every pumping of her heart. The shimmering scales extending halfway down her body feel as though they are shriveling, and to her horror and wonderment, some are drifting lifelessly to the bottom of the pool. Just to be sure she wasn’t imagining things, Tubbs allows herself to dive down to inspect the collection. Dismayed she returns to the surface, semi-awkwardly adjusting to worming her legs in unison.

Hating to cause more shock than the appearance of a tail already had, Ricki peers up at him entreatingly. “Hey, man. I’m no expert, but I don’t think I’m supposed to be…shedding and wrinkling up like this.” Her words escape her far more calmly than they ought to. She can only vaguely recollect childhood fairytales involving mermaids but she is fairly confident that the scales serve a purpose. She props her arms up against the side of the pool so that she can rest her chin on the sun-scorched pavement at Vin’s feet. Tubbs really doesn’t want to inform him that everything feels like its burning because it seems absurd when she is quite literally surrounded by frigid water. Maybe, if she keeps her fins moving, she’ll get rid of the feeling of death. So, her flipper slowly bobs up and down and occasionally side to side.

#answered ask #detectiverickitubbs #innocentmanwithabounty #fantasy au! Mermaid Tubbs #tw: drowning #tw: injections #tw: choking #tw: death #tw: near death experiences #tw: voodoo mentioned #tw: long reply

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crinkled-emotions · 5 years

Text

A heart defect (Bondi Rescue)

When y/n’s summer day is interrupted by her dodgy heart kicking up, she seeks the help of some of Australia’s favourite lifeguards.

Completed for @shayleefischer as she approached me and I was so keen to write this! Thank you so much for feeling like I could do you justice, I really hope I did :)

Is that the best way to describe this? Hm. Probably not.

Note: I can’t write fem!Reader whump. Like at all. This is probably going to be a flop. Sorryyyyyyyy!!

A friend of mine from school has a heart condition where she can’t do a lot of exercise because it makes her heart skip a beat and they just about have to reset it whenever it happens. It’s awful and I feel for her so much, but this time it may have come in handy as I’ve witnessed a couple of these episodes. Watch me fuck this up, fam.

Everyone gathered in the shed for Hop’s debrief, Hoppo himself standing beside the whiteboard.

“Box what are we looking at today?”

“It’s gonna be fuckin’ hot today boys, so we need to be on high alert for heat stroke and the elderly as well as young kids. We’re expecting a top of 47°C so everyone keep an eye out.”

“Great, thanks mate. Has anyone got anything to add?”

“Does everyone know where they’re stationed on first?” Reidy piped up, everyone nodding. Maxi glanced around in confusion, a frown coming to his face.

“Hang on, where’s-“

“-your best buddy is on his death bed,” Hoppo explained shortly, in reference to Maxi’s Kiwi best friend/ ex roommate. Maxi ahhhh’ed and then nodded.

“Okay, then I think we’re good.”

Harries and Maxi were patrolling, Reidy doing the med jobs as people appeared with various issues ranging from heat stroke to cuts and blue bottle stings. He’d care for them and treat what he could before sending them on their way- if it had been any other day he would have let them hang around depending on the severity but the casualties just kept coming- especially with Jesse on the jetski occasionally bringing up someone who had copped a concussion or something.

There was a knock on the door just as Reidy was in the middle of something, him groaning.

“Maxi or Harries, please,” he called. Maxi got up, heading down the stairs and opening the door.

There stood a young woman who had gone completely beet red in the face, and she half smiled.

“D-do you think I could… could I get some ice?”

30 Minutes Before

None of my friends had wanted to come to the beach in the heat; they preferred to be inside under the air-conditioning in their expensive apartments sipping expensive water that was no different to the cheap stuff. Note: I love my friends. Don’t tell them I just talked shit.

Anyway.

Bondi Beach is always packed but I’ve never seen it like this before, even as a local. I wasn’t a surfer or a body boarder so I couldn’t tell you about the swell but it looked fucking huge to me. Was this a good thing?

Beats me.

The sun beat down on me, its rays heating up my skin all over and I closed my eyes despite the fact they were protected by my sunglasses, grimacing.

“Holy shit it’s hot,” I muttered to myself. I reached for my phone and covered it with my rapidly drying towel to keep it relatively cool, opening up the weather app.

“Shit.”

It was barely 11am and the temperature had already reached 43°C. I winced, trying to think about whether it was safe for me to stay out. I have a heart defect that I was born with, and it can be dangerous for me to stay out in the sun when it’s really hot. Sometimes I have to be treated in hospital if I do exercise and it’s too hot for my heart, so I have to be careful.

“Miss? Hey, it’s okay I’m a lifeguard. You alright?”

My eyes opened slowly and I was faced by someone kneeling down beside me, their hand on my shoulder. I tried to sit up but he shook his head, stopping me.

“Just hang on a sec, you might be dehydrated.”

“I- I’m fine… must have fallen asleep. Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No, no that’s okay. I’m Ryan but everyone calls me Whippet, are you from around here?”

“Yeah, I grew up here. Nice to meet you Ryan, I’m y/n.”

“Well y/n, I’ve been driving past for the past thirty minutes and I just wanted to check if you were okay. It’s a really hot day today, make sure you stay hydrated.”

“Will do, thanks Whippet.”

He went to get back on his quad bike but paused, gesturing to the tower.

“There’s three guys up there at the moment so they can spare someone to help you if you need it. Just say I sent you if they get tetchy.”

“Okay, cheers.”

He disappeared down the beach when his radio crackled to life, and I lay back down. My entire body felt weak and I yawned, moving to grab my phone again from under my now dry towel.

46°C at 2pm. Great.

As I lay there reading I began to feel more lethargic and my heart was occasionally having an arrhythmia- something that I already knew was a heads up it wasn’t coping. I sighed and put my book into my bag, reaching to tuck my phone into the waistband of my shorts. I hefted my bag on to my shoulder and peered through my sunglasses as I got up from the sand, trying to locate the tower. It stuck out like a sore thumb usually, but against the crowds I could barely see it.

One knock.

Two.

Three.

Present Time

“Yeah, what’s up- woah c’mon in, you don’t look so good.”

“D-do you think I could… could I get some ice?”

“I think you should come inside first up.”

A tall, tanned blonde guy offered me a hand and I accepted the help, nearly collapsing against him as he helped me to sit on the blue gurney beside some guy who was groaning a lot, another lifeguard sighing. His voice held very little sympathy as he bandaged something, gesturing to the door.

“That’ll teach you for jumping off Flat Rock, mate. Be more careful next time, aye?”

“Sure. Thanks Reidy.”

“No problem mate.”

The man limped out of the tower and the lifeguard who had helped me in turned to his colleague.

“Reidy, do you think she’s got heatstroke?”

“Hi mate I’m Andrew Reid and this is Trent Maxwell. I’m Reidy and he’s Maxi if that helps. You’re feelin’ a little hot are ya?”

“Mmhmm.”

I nodded and Reidy poked his head up, calling to someone up the staircase.

“Hey Harries mate, d’you think you could grab us some ice?”

Maxi meanwhile wandered upstairs, this third guy appearing after a couple minutes with a black bag in hand.

“Here mate. I’m Harries.”

“Hey. I’m y/n.”

I felt my heart ‘skip’ a beat again and winced, clutching it. Harries frowned, hand on my shoulder.

“Are you okay?”

“Oh- uh, yeah. I just- uhm, I just- I have a heart defect, I was born with it… and sometimes it kicks up when it gets really hot and I can’t cool down fast enough.”

“Here.”

Harries handed me some ice and took off his blue long-sleeve so I could put it over my bikini, offering me some modesty. I accepted, thanking him quietly as I slipped the bag of ice on to my back. Maxi suddenly reappeared, carrying a couple more bags.

“Should I call the ambo’s?” He asked, and Reidy shook his head.

“Not yet. Get back on patrol, call someone to give you a hand if you need to.”

“I’m good mate.”

Maxi gave my arm a sympathetic squeeze, heading up the stairs. I felt a wave of dizziness wash over me and as I lay down Reidy answered the door to someone else, going to help them outside. Harries brushed a hand over my forehead, frowning as he picked up one of the ice bags Maxi had dumped.

“Here, this should help.”

He placed one under each armpit, followed by around my neck which apparently would cool me down fast. He cracked open a cold bottle of water and offered it over, sending me a sympathetic smile.

“Here, slow sips though. Just in case.”

“Thanks.”

I followed his instructions, trying to keep my breathing steady. My heart’s latest skip was only just calming down and I was exhausted, closing my eyes. I could hear the three lifeguards talking around me, Reidy calling to Maxi at one point.

“Mate, d’you think you could grab us an ambo?”

“Yeah, gotcha.”

I tried to sit up but my heart protested and Harries held me to lie back down, shaking his head.

“Just stay with us, okay? We’re gonna get you checked out, I can tell the ticker’s playin’ up a bit so we just want to make sure you’re good to walk out of here without collapsing a couple metres away. S’not a good look on us, I’ll be honest.”

I was too tired to laugh.

“Hi y/n, I’m Michael. What seems to be happening today?”

“Hey mate.”

Harries was sitting on the end of the gurney, a steady hand on my leg as I felt my entire body shaking. It was exhausting just to lift an arm and wave.

“What’s the story Harries?”

Michael turned to the lifeguard, who quickly filled him in on what I’d told them and what he and Reidy had noticed while I’d been there. I realised they’d redone the ice and Maxi was now sitting quietly in the corner, observing. Reidy was filling out some paperwork and I realised there was another lifeguard in the tower now, watching out over the water.

“Oh, I- I uhm, I don’t- you guys don’t have to watch me,” I mumbled, and Maxi shook his head.

“Pretend I’m not here, I’m trying to learn from the pros.”

“Cheers mate,” Reidy replied, clicking his pen once and chucking it to the side as he knelt down beside my head.

“Listen, if you’re feeling crowded we can leave you with Michael. We don’t mind; don’t be embarrassed to speak up.”

I nodded, closing my eyes as I took a deep breath.

“Harries?”

“Mm darlin’?”

“D-do you- would you mind staying? J-just- just you?”

“Course.”

I heard Maxi getting up and opened my eyes just in time to see him wave at me before heading up the stairs, relieving whoever was up there patrolling. Reidy sent me a half smile and waved too before following after Maxi. It was now just me, Harries and the paramedic, who was quietly doing his job of checking me over.

“So, Harries, got kids?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah actually. Five and three, two boys.”

“I thought I detected a fatherly tone to you.”

He laughed, looking up when Michael hummed.

“Yeah, something’s not right. Would you consent to us taking you into hospital, Miss y/n?”

I nodded and he sent me a sympathetic smile.

“Okay then. Can you walk to the ambulance, it’s parked nearby.”

“I- I don’t- I don’t think so.”

Harries stood then, offering me a hand.

“C’mon, I’ll help ya. Maxi mate, come take her other side.”

Maxi appeared from buttfuck nowhere, helping me to stand. He and Harries took a side of me each, slinging my arms over their shoulders to help me walk. Michael packed everything up and gestured to the door.

“Follow me.”

Finally loaded up and lying down with an IV, I thanked the two men who had been a huge help.

“Seriously, you guys have been so generous and I’m really grateful.”

“It’s our job,” Harries replied. I remembered I was still wearing his shirt and went to take it off when he stopped me.

“Come by when you’re better and drop it off, okay?”

“Sure. Thanks.”

He stepped back and I weakly hugged Maxi, whispering a thank you in his ear.

“Nah, don’t worry about it. As Harries said, it’s our job. Besides, who could leave a damsel in distress?”

I laughed at this, just as Michael appeared.

“Okay, we’re good to go.”

“Thanks again, guys,” I smiled, waving until the door closed.

4 Days Later

One knock.

Two.

Three-

“Hey what can I help you with toda- y/n!”

Reidy broke into a huge grin and I blushed, smiling.

“Hey, Reidy. Are the other two around?”

“Mmhmm, two seconds.”

He grabbed his radio and held it to his mouth.

“Maxi and Harries, you two better come up to the tower, our heartbreak girl has finally returned.”

“Oh shit, on our way!”

I heard Maxi and burst out laughing, another lifeguard appearing from upstairs. He was tall and tanned, but his hair was a brown with sun-bleached blonde ends. I raised an eyebrow at Reidy, who just smiled.

“This is Maxi’s best friend and fellow lifeguard Harrison Reid. Huxy, this is that girl we helped with heat stroke.”

“Oh, right! Yeah, I’ve heard a lot about you.”

His accent was clearly Kiwi with Australian undertones- the two accents are very close, but sometimes Kiwi’s have a different tone.

“Sure, sure. All about how I nearly passed out because I couldn’t handle my own health, hm?”

“Not at all,” Harrison replied with a smile that made me believe him.

“Actually, Maxi kept going on about how brave you were. Your heart was quite literally trying to give up and you were still laughing and cracking jokes. That’s incredible.”

“I heard my name.”

Maxi appeared through the door and Harrison grinned, rushing over to him. I assumed he was going to hug him but I was slightly shocked when Maxi wrapped his arms around him and kissed Harrison, square on the lips. I tried to stop my jaw from dropping, glancing around.

“I-“

“-oh, yeah… uh, best friend’s kind of an understatement.”

I burst out laughing when Harrison ran a hand through his hair awkwardly, Maxi’s hand on his hip. I held in the coo threatening to escape, shaking my head.

“You guys are so cute. I ship.”

“Thanks, y/n.”

“Y/n!”

Harries came through the upstairs door and rushed down the stairs to hug me, wrapping me up in a hug I’d detect as fatherly protection. I smiled, hugging back.

“Hey, Harries!”

“How are ya darlin’?”

I shrugged, blushing at all the attention on me in the small room. Harrison, sensing my awkwardness, gave Maxi a pat on the ass, waved at me, and went back to patrol. I smiled at him, shrugging at the others. Reidy grinned at me, shaking his head.

“It’s really good to see you doing well, y/n. We were worried; I don’t think I’ve ever treated someone with a heart defect.”

“I was born with it. It’s not usually an issue but during the summer I have to be careful and I guess I got lazy. It’s my own fault.”

“It happens, honestly,” Harries spoke up, holding my shoulder. I turned and smiled at him, grateful.

“Thanks.”

“You’re okay though? Nothing serious come from it?” Maxi asked. I shook my head, gesturing to my heart.

“Nah, it just got tired. Slept for over 24 hours in hospital though. They were scared too, but when I woke up I felt a lot better and they agreed that sleeping did help my heart recover.”

“Wow. That’s incredible.”

Reidy was now standing to the back of the room and I reached for my bag, opening it.

“As a thank you gift, I got you a little something… I’m sure you guys get this all the time, but it’s the least I can do. You guys kept calm when I was freaking out inside. If you hadn’t been calm things could have really taken a turn for the worst.”

I pulled out three boxes of Favourites, handing them out. Maxi grinned, thanking me before dashing up the stairs.

“Hux, we’ve got chocolate!”

The two older lifeguards chuckled, both giving me a hug.

“You didn’t need to do that, but thank you. Really appreciate it.”

I nodded at Harries, checking the time.

“Well, I have to go, but thank you all so much. You really do an incredible job down here and I hope others can see that.”

I’d make sure of it.

#Bondi Rescue #Bondi Rescue fanfiction #Harries #Maxi #Reidy

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gamerwoo · 5 years

Text

Sehun: Guardian (Part 7)

Characters: Sehun x female reader

Genre/warnings: gang au, twin au, angst, fluff and a lil crack at the beginning, angsty fluff, implied smut at the beginning, violence, blood, knives

Word count: 3,939

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»»————-　　————-««

Saehyuk stared up at the ceiling, one arm behind his head while the other was around you, his thumb brushing against your bare shoulder. Your head was on his chest, listening to the sound of his heartbeat as you started to let your eyes close. To both of you, this was probably your favorite part about having sex. Yeah, the actual sex was amazing, but the cuddling afterwards when both of your bodies were warm and pressed against each other and neither of you wanted to move away from each other was just perfect.

But, of course, that perfection was ruined by a loud crash, followed by a plain “ow” that came from the living room. Saehyuk sighed, not even panicking about the sound that would have anybody else thinking a very bad burglar was breaking in. Saehyuk knew exactly who it was.

“Stay here,” he told you in a bored tone as he sat up and crawled over you to get out of bed. “I’ll be right back.”

You sat up as Saehyuk pulled on sweatpants and a t-shirt, the blanket falling from your chest but you didn’t care -- it was just Saehyuk, “What was that?”

“Take a guess,” he sighed as he grabbed his glasses from the nightstand before he opened the door and left the room, making sure to close it again behind him.

Saehyuk padded down the hallway, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. As he flipped the switch for the living room light, he wasn’t surprised to see Sehun frozen in the middle of the living room, holding his right shin that he seemed to have bashed into the coffee table.

“...Hey, Hyukie,” Sehun said with a tiny wave.

Saehyuk ignored the greeting, crossing his arms over his chest, “You snuck out again?”

Sehun sighed, dropping his leg and standing up straight as he fixed his white t-shirt and black leather jacket, “Hyuk, I’m not a baby. I’m an adult, and I can do what I want.”

“I still wish you’d tell me when you were leaving again,” he told the younger twin. “I could’ve went to your room to check on you, and you wouldn’t be there. Do you know how worried I’d be?”

“I have a phone.”

“Which you only answer half the time.”

Saehyuk observed Sehun’s face, taking note of the new cuts and bruises. It wasn’t the worst he’d seen, which was good, but he still knew Sehun was out fighting again. While this was obviously a normal thing, Saehyuk knew this happened for one of two reasons: Sehun had gone out for other reasons but happened to get caught up in a fight somehow so he hadn’t actually planned to fight, or Sehun was upset about something and he went out with the intention to find trouble.

“Don’t you look pretty,” you commented as you appeared in the hallway behind Saehyuk, wearing only one of his flannels that barely brushed the top of your thighs -- but it was just Saehyuk and Sehun. “What happened?”

“Yah, _____,” Saehyuk frowned, turning to hold an arm out to you, “I told you to stay in the bedroom.”

You shrugged, “Got bored. Sehun, did you break anything coming in?”

“Possibly my shin,” he nodded.

You laughed in the form of an exhale through your nose, “Nice one.”

“Stop encouraging him,” Saehyuk whined, pulling you to his chest and holding your head so your face was cradled in the crook of his neck, therefore, you couldn’t speak.

You just giggled at him, your breath tickling his skin.

He squirmed, “Don’t do that, either! Listen, Sehun; you can do what you want, yeah, just-- Just tell me when you leave, alright? You don’t even have to tell me what you’re doing, just tell me you’re leaving.”

Sehun sighed softly but nodded, “Alright. I’m sorry, Saehyuk.”

“Thank you,” Saehyuk offered him a small smile as a peace treaty before he finally released you. “Say sorry to _____, too. She was about to fall asleep, and now I have to find a way to make her sleepy again.”

Now that he was done being scolded, Sehun started walking toward the hallway that you and your boyfriend were standing in front of. As Sehun passed by, he smirked, placing a hand on his brother’s shoulder and saying, “I think you know exactly how to do that.”

As Sehun continued down the hall, you snorted while Saehyuk let out a groan.

“Come on, you’re ruining that for me!” he complained.

“Yeah, that’s what I’m here for!” Sehun called back.

Sehun had left without telling you. He had snuck out, unable to handle the same feeling you felt any longer. He tried to resist the urges to leave, but he couldn’t take it anymore. He just didn’t want to bother you, so he took matters into his own hands, going out to cope how he usually did: fighting. That was why he didn’t answer your call. He was in the alley behind a bar, throwing punches and kicks at some stranger who he picked a fight with for no reason other than to get his negative emotions out.

You didn’t know that, though. You couldn’t find Sehun, and you thought it was because something bad happened to him. So what could you do other than panic and let your thoughts and emotions get the best of you? Just like any other night.

But you didn’t do that. You didn’t let the fear consume you, washing it away with alcohol. You immediately called up Chanyeol before going to find clothes to wear.

“You know it’s 1am, right?” Chanyeol asked, his voice groggy and low.

“Sehun’s missing,” you told him, your voice shaking even though you tried to sound fine. “I need to know where he could be.”

“Fuck-- I have no idea,” Chanyeol said, sounding more awake and considerably more stressed. “Want me to help look?”

“Yeah, please,” you replied. “Call the others, too. I’m gonna take his spare bike and go look for him.”

“Are you good to drive? Yixing said--”

“I’m fine,” you promised, though there was a slight snap to your tone. You tugged on your leggings before grabbing the first shirt you could find -- it was one of Saehyuk’s, and it was black with long sleeves. “Call me if you find him.”

“You too,” he replied before you both hung up.

You went to the front door, put on your boots, and then grabbed the keys to the spare motorcycle in the tiny shed. Then you grabbed your helmet and bolted out the door.

Sehun coughed up a bit of blood as he took another knee to his stomach. He was doubled over while the three guys around him shouted various threats, profanities, and names at him. He thought he could take these three guys, but they were apparently from a gang out of town so they knew what they were doing.

He had been winning for a while when it was just one of the guys. The man seemed to be alone as he sat at the bar when Sehun picked a fight with him. After they went outside to the alley, Sehun wasn’t holding anything back. He thought he was going to completely knock the guy out, but then two more men showed up out of nowhere and started beating on Sehun. After that, getting in even a single hit was hard, and now he just didn’t have the energy. It was all beaten out of him.

“Somebody ought to keep you outta trouble, huh?” one of the men teased as he yanked Sehun’s head up by his hair.

Sehun was on his knees in the gravel, looking up at the guy as he continued to pull on his dark hair, making him wince. This time, he didn’t have any witty comebacks, any tricks up his sleeve, or any energy to fuel his anger to fight harder. All he could think was that he hoped that by some higher power, you might realize he was gone, and--

You. It finally hit him how badly he fucked up. You and him had already lost one person to fighting, and now he’d snuck out and was stuck in the same situation. He wasn’t on the brink of death, but he was definitely going to get his ass handed to him before he had to somehow drive himself home on his bike. And if you did realize he was gone, you were going to panic because he was missing. He felt like an asshole. He wished he at least told you he left. Hell, he wish he hadn’t left at all.

He heard footsteps on gravel, one of the men turning to see who it was. Sehun saw them get yanked forward, his body disappearing behind the man holding him by the hair. Sehun heard a sickening crunch. The man let out a choked shout, and then he was on his back on the ground.

The other two men turned around, the one holding onto Sehun finally releasing him. Sehun looked up, seeing you between the bodies of the two men still standing. He let out a breath of relief, thinking you looked like some kind of dark angel standing in front of the light of the street lamps and the neon sign outside the bar behind you.

“I suggest you leave,” you told the men, no emotion in your voice or on your face.

The other man scoffed, “You’re just a girl, what’re you--”

You swung your leg up, kicking the man in the side and into the brick building beside him. You reached out for the man directly in front of Sehun, gripping his shirt with one hand before you punched him in his left cheek with your other. You saw him pull his fist back to do the same to you, but you dodged his arm and grabbed it as you spun around to face away from him, yanking on his limb and flipping him over your back and onto the ground behind you next to the first man. The man still standing pushed himself away from the wall and ran at you, so you kicked your leg up and kept your foot flat, the sole of your boot hitting him square in the gut. Then you backhanded him before shoving him aside on top of the second man where he fell with a grunt, causing the second man to groan uncomfortably.

The one whose nose you had broken refused to get up since he was already in bad shape before you had shown up. But the second man shoved the third one off of him and got back to his feet, prepared to keep fighting.

You, however, weren’t taking any precautions this time. You grabbed the pocket knife you found in the shed that you’d stuffed into your boot, flicking the knife out as you pointed it at the man, your eyes narrowed menacingly.

“I would stay down if I were you,” you advised in a growl.

His eyes widened, taking a step back before he glared again, clenching his jaw.

“Coward,” he spat.

You shrugged, unfazed by the insult. You just wanted to get Sehun and go back to the house.

So the man yanked up his friend that didn’t look like he had been pummeled into the next year before they both gathered the first guy off the ground, and they stumbled out of the alley together. You turned back to look at Sehun, keeping up the tough act out of pure anger. Now that you knew Sehun was okay, you were pissed off that he ran off just to get into a fight with strangers.

You grabbed his arm and helped him to his feet, slinging that arm around your shoulders as you held his waist and helped him to the sidewalk so you could call Chanyeol. Neither of you said anything as you walked, but he let out a soft sigh as you sat him down on the edge of the sidewalk.

“_____, I’m--”

“Save it,” you snapped, taking your phone out and calling Chanyeol. He answered on the second ring. “Hey, do you remember that bar where Baek got threatened with a broken bottle?”

“How could I forget?” Chanyeol snorted. “Wait, why? Is Sehun there?”

“Yeah, I need you to come get the keys to his bike and bring it back to your place for the night.”

“What?” Sehun demanded. “That’s my bike, you can’t--!”

You put your palm over his whole face -- or at least whatever your hand could cover -- to keep him quiet as you kept talking, “We’ll come pick it up tomorrow, but I figured you’re probably exhausted.”

“Alright, I’ll let everyone know he’s found,” Chanyeol said. “Baek and I will come get the bike. I’ll see you in a little bit.”

You hung up the phone before you took your hand off of Sehun’s face, revealing a glare.

“You can’t just take my bike, _____,” he stated.

“You can’t just disappear in the middle of the night to get yourself beaten to death, but look where we are,” you shot back, gesturing with your arms open to the almost empty street you were on.

“_____, I’m sorry, okay?” he frowned, looking genuinely guilty for making you upset and worried. “I didn’t realize what I did was dumb until I was already on the ground.”

“Really? It took you that long to realize?” you asked with a bite to your tone. “You didn’t think about that before you even had the idea to leave? You didn’t think that, ‘oh, my brother died from fighting and _____ had to watch it happen, but no, let me just leave the house and go do exactly what killed him!’”

You weren’t even aware you were crying but Sehun saw everything. He saw the moment your eyes filled with tears, when they started to spill, and he saw the way your hands were shaking as you used them to talk. He didn’t anger you, he scared you.

“_____--” his voice was quiet, so you didn’t even hear him as blood pounded in your ears as the panic started to come back now that the anger and adrenaline faded away.

“I thought I lost you, too!” you burst, staring down at him as tears flowed down your face and dripped off your chin, onto the sidewalk. “I thought Kris got you, and I wouldn’t be able to find you, and--”

“Shh, it’s okay,” Sehun frowned, reaching up to grab your hand. He pulled you down to him, your knees softly hitting the sidewalk before Sehun pulled you into his side. “I’m okay, see? You found me, and I’m safe. Stop worrying, you’re going to make yourself hyperventilate.”

“How can I not worry when this is what you’ve been doing!” you sobbed, pulling your sleeve down to wipe off the blood at the corners of his lips. “What if you leave again but you don’t come back home? What if--”

“Hey, don’t work yourself up,” he told you softly, smoothing your hair back. “We’ll talk about it more at the house, alright? Just calm down for now; breathe.”

You fell silent, nodding as you sniffled and wiped your eyes with your other sleeve. You knew Chanyeol and Baekhyun would be showing up soon anyway, and you didn’t want them seeing you like this.

“I do owe you a thank you, though,” Sehun said with a small smile, still keeping an arm around you as you tried to pull yourself together. “If you hadn’t shown up, I would’ve ended up going back to the house looking a lot worse.”

“Thank Saehyuk for leaving his pocket knife in the shed,” you told him with a little bit of lightheartedness to your tone as you took out the knife you’d closed back up. “Otherwise, we’d both probably be going home looking like that one guy. You fucked him up pretty bad, huh?”

“Yeah, but you broke something,” he chuckled, nudging you with his shoulder and making you smile -- you always did like being praised.

Still, you shrugged like it was nothing, “Just his nose. Honestly, I was close to snapping his neck.”

“Why?”

“I thought they were going to kill you. You were on your knees, and you look awful. You were coughing up blood when I drove by and found you, so I was really nervous... Seeing it just... It set off a lot of alarms.”

“I am fine, _____,” he promised, noticing that you’d turned serious. “See, I’m not even coughing any up anymore. I can breathe just fine, too. I’m just sore, is all.”

You looked up at Sehun’s face, your eyes scanning every bump, bruise, cut, and scrape. You realized that, yeah, he could’ve ended up a lot worse. But you got to him when you did, and he was here. The thought of losing him next scared you more than anything, but he wasn’t going anywhere.

Without a word, your arms wrapped around his waist, and you rested your head against his shoulder. His body stiffened in surprise, but he let out a warm chuckle as he hugged you back, his head resting on top of yours.

“What’s this for?” he asked.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” you mumbled, still not used to saying sappy things to Sehun out loud despite everything that had been happening with the two of you.

“Yeah, well,” he shrugged, “it’s all thanks to you.”

And he meant that in more ways than one.

You hung the keys by the door before kicking off your shoes. Sehun helped you put the spare bike back in the shed, but you kept the pocket knife with you just in case. But the conversation you started outside the bar before Chanyeol and Baekhyun showed up was still long from over.

“So, why’d you leave?” you asked as the two of you made your way further into the house, entering the living room.

“Honestly?” Sehun asked, and you looked over your shoulder to nod at him. He let out a sigh and shrugged. “The last five nights have been awful. I know you’re here with me, but I just...feel alone. I can’t sleep, I can’t get myself to feel at home here -- it’s all too much. Fighting’s always been how I get my feelings out, and I didn’t want to bother you.”

You stopped as you were about to go to the kitchen, turning to face Sehun with furrowed brows, “Why do you think you bother me?”

“You always liked to be alone.”

You scoffed, “Yeah, two years ago. After that, there wasn’t a moment I wasn’t wanting to spend my time with Saehyuk. I can’t stand being alone anymore.”

“Is that the reason you’re becoming an alcoholic, or is that just a new hobby of yours?” Sehun asked, eyebrow raised as he crossed his arms over his chest.

Your mouth snapped shut, realizing that Sehun was getting on your case for your bad coping mechanism now. You frowned like a child getting punished.

“That’s... It’s different than fighting,” you stated.

“Different how?” he asked, cocking his head to the side as he gave you a quizzical look. “It could easily kill you, so it seems just as dangerous to me.”

Your face turned red as you glared at him, “I’m fine!”

“_____, I’m not trying to pick a fight with you,” he sighed, both hands running through his dark hair as he walked over to you. “But the way you felt seeing me tonight is how I felt seeing you at Yixing’s. I’d never seen you like that, and it hit me that you’re like that every night -- and don’t tell me you’ve been sober the last five nights because I know you’ve been getting into the whiskey.”

Your mouth that had opened for that exact rebuttal, shut again.

When Sehun spoke again, his voice was soft, “I’ll make you a deal, okay? I’ll stop fighting all the time if you stop drinking. Instead of doing that stuff, we have to promise to go to each other when we feel like doing that.”

You chewed on your cheek as you thought it over, studying the look in Sehun’s eyes closely, “You promise?”

Sehun held out his pinkie to you with a single nod, “I promise.”

His eyes showed sincerity.

You nodded and linked your pinkie with his. He smiled down at you warmly before he pulled you in for a hug. It took you by surprise, but you lightly wrapped your arms around him, too.

“Can I ask a favor?” he asked.

“Sure.”

“Can you help me put bandages on?”

You laughed quietly, pulling away to look up at his busted face, “Yeah. You look really bad.”

“I feel really bad,” he nodded with a grin. “I should probably take a shower first. Everything’s sore.”

“You should stay home for a few days, too.”

“What about my bike?”

“You don’t need it.”

Sehun frowned, “Yes I do.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, “Are you married to that thing?”

“Yeah,” he nodded with a cheeky grin before he walked down the hall toward the bathroom. “And the bike is a she, not a thing.”

Sehun exited the bathroom, now wearing only a pair of sweatpants with some boxers underneath. He padded down the hall to the kitchen to get some water, but he paused after he had downed the glass because he noticed something out a place. There was a can of beer left on the counter, still sweating since it was taken out of the fridge, He picked up the can, saw it was unopened, and put it back in the fridge. Then, he went to the living room to see if you were there.

“_____?” he called out softly when you weren’t there, and the TV and lights were all off.

He went by Saehyuk’s room, only wanting to look in there if he absolutely had to. Instead, he went straight to his room where the door was cracked, and his desk lamp was dimly lighting the room. Through the crack in the door, he could see his bed where there was a lump under his blanket.

He slowly pushed the door open, seeing you laying on the inside of the bed by the wall. You were wearing a sweatshirt with the hood pulled up, and you were curled up under the blanket as you hugged it to yourself, clearly fast asleep.

Sehun smiled softly to himself as he closed his door silently before he went to shut off the desk lamp. Then he climbed into bed beside you, moving carefully as to not wake you. He noticed you shift a little bit after he got under the covers, but you only moved closer to him in your sleep, your forehead now touching his shoulder. Truthfully, he was happy to have found you in his bed because he had only slept well those two times you were with him.

But he was also happy because you kept your promise, and he was proud of you for that. He knew that the two of you would get better, even if it was a slow process. Together, you two could overcome this heartache, he was sure of it.

As Sehun closed his eyes, he figured the bandages could wait until tomorrow. The bleeding had stopped anyway, and it wasn’t worth waking you up from your slumber. He’d rather let you sleep -- you needed it.

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