#don’t you dare give me hope mr stark | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

spidernerdsblog · 1 year

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It's always you

A/N : This lovely concept was @starlight-starks idea ❤️ Hope you guys like this. Let me know what you think.

Summary : Peter has skipped your fourth weekly movie night and you aren't very happy about it.

Pairing : tasm! Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings : angst, fluff, mutual pining

Your phone pings with a text message, thinking it must be Peter you eagerly reach for it to let out a disappointed sigh when you read the text.

Gwen wants me to help her with the robotics project. Raincheck?

Sure. You type back.

Sorry, I know it was our weekly movie night.

Yeah the fourth movie night in a row to be exact as you look at the large popcorn bowl sitting on the coffee table you had prepared and he chose to ditch you again.

Don’t worry I’ll be fine. Goodluck with the project 👍 you reply.

I’ll make it up to you. I promise :)

You read his text and lock your phone before tossing it to the side on the couch. Grabbing the tv remote you scroll through the wide selection of movies, choosing one in random you press play. You then pick up the popcorn bowl and start munching on them all alone in your apartment. The sound of the movie playing drones in the background as you get lost in your own thoughts.

You and Peter were slowly growing apart, the niggling worry has been eating you up from the inside lately. And you knew if you had voiced your worries to Peter he would have clearly dismissed you saying you’re being silly.

But you needed that reassurance from him even more now because you were aware of the little crush he had on Gwen. You didn’t want to appear as a jealous friend but the more they got closer the more insecure you felt.

It is childish, you know, to cling to the pact you made when you were in middle school that whatever happens you will make time for each other. And these weekly movie nights were a sacred part of your friendship which you weren’t ready to give up for anyone. Hell you didn’t want to share him with anyone.

You stopped eating surprised at your own thoughts. Where did that come from? You wondered.

****

Saturday night there was a party at the Greek row. One of Harry’s frat brothers was celebrating his birthday so you and Peter were invited as well. After a few rounds of drinking and dancing you were all gathered around the couch playing truth or dare. Harry spins the bottle and it stops at you.

“Y/N it’s your turn. Truth or dare?” He waggles his eyebrows.

“Truth.” You declare.

“Boo boring!”

“I’m too drunk and I don’t trust you so much with your dares Mr. Osborn.”

“You wound me Y/N.” Harry clutches his chest dramatically, appearing to be in pain. He then thinks for a second and asks. “Ok, the biggest lie you’ve ever told.”

“Hmmm well…” You think of an answer before replying. “Don’t worry about me, I'm fine.”

“Don’t we all say that?” Carin agrees sitting beside you.

“You know when we say I’m fine we're denying our true feelings and experiences; we're hoping to convince ourselves and others that everything really is okay.” Brody the tall and muscled quarterback of the football team adds in.

“Oh here we go.” Harry rolls his eyes.

“No, no it’s true we pretend to be fine to avoid conflicts.” Brody goes on. “Sharing our true feelings or opinions might cause someone to get angry with us and that's scary or at least uncomfortable.”

“Y/N this is your fault.” Harry scowls at you.

“What did I do?” You giggle.

“You know Brody turns into a psychology nerd when he is drunk.”

“Well I think you need it even more given the fact you’re always running away from your problems.” You snicker and Harry gives you the finger.

Amidst all of your banter Peter’s mind was stuck on what you said as he tried to recall the number of times you’ve said those exact words to him. He was so lost in his thoughts that he startled when you snapped your fingers in front of him.

“Yo earth to Peter. You okay?”

“Yea..yeah.” Guilt washed over him anew as he looked at your smiling face. He had let you down but you never once complained or stayed mad at him. He had to make it up to you as soon as possible.

***

Next day after your classes ended for the day you are walking out of the university campus when you hear Peter call out your name.

“Y/N wait!” you turn around to see him running towards you. He stops in front of you panting, handing you a white envelope.

“What is this?” you frown pulling out a paper from inside it.

VALID FOR ONE

One Full Day of Fun with your BFF.

Redeem by : Anytime Expires : Never

You looked up at him cluelessly.

“This is a free coupon to a fun day with your best friend,” He explains, pointing a finger at himself.

“What?” You giggle with your brows raised in amusement.

“I know I’ve been a very bad friend lately.” Peter goes serious. “and I want to make it up to you.”

“That isn’t necessary Peter.” Your expression turns soft.

“Ah ah nothing of that. Tomorrow we do whatever you want.” He states.

“Well I’ve been meaning to visit this vintage bookstore I found online. We could go there I suppose.” You shrug.

“Ok done! Gotta go now, Psych class. See you tomorrow.” He drops a kiss on your cheek and runs back to the science building as you stand in your place trying to piece together everything that happened.

****

The doorbell chimes and you rush to open the door excitedly. Peter stands at the threshold with his hands in his pockets. His face lights up as soon as he sees you.

“Hey.”

“Hi..” You smile.

“You look pretty.” He observes.

“Thanks.” You blush, tucking your hair behind your ear. You had taken a considerable amount of time to decide what to wear today as if it was a date because honestly it felt like one. Finally you had chosen a pale pink knit sweater, blue jeans and ankle boots.

Together you walk towards the subway station and board a train. There are no empty seats so you stand at an empty corner. And like always Peter stands in front of you like a protective wall caging you with his body from the crowd of passengers. Your bodies pressed together as Peter peers down at you smiling and you smile back feeling a giddiness inside your stomach.

Twenty minutes later you get off the train and begin walking along the sidewalk. The map showed the shop was just around the corner of the street. So it was as you stood in front of a small antique bookstore.

The bell chimes overhead as you push the door open. The scent of old books hits you as your eyes take in the cozy interior of the shop. Tall wooden shelves lined with stacks of books illuminated by the soft glow of the yellow lights overhead and you thought you’ve gone to heaven.

You run your fingers through the spines of the books; some are leatherbound with their beautiful gold detailings still intact.

“OH MY GOD!! Look at this!” You hear Peter squeal excitedly from the other side. “This is the original Lord of the rings book set from the time it was first published and it has the author’s signature too!”

You laugh seeing Peter’s face light up like a child on a christmas morning.

“This place is so cool!” He announces.

“I know right?” you say smugly.

“You kids find anything you like?” An old man emerges from the back of the shop.

“Yes, how much for this book set?” Peter asks.

“That will be $130.” He answers. Peter’s face falls hearing the price.

“Oh I don’t have that much at the moment.”

You would have lent him a few bucks if you could but after paying rent and your monthly supplies you were as broke as him.

“It’s ok we can come back for it later.” You rub up and down his arm soothingly.

“I say what boy you give me $20 for now I’ll hold that book for you until you pay the full amount.” he proposes.

“You would do that?” Peter’s expression turns hopeful.

“Yeah why not? You seem to really want that.” He chuckles.

“Thank you.” Peter says bashfully.

After paying the old man you took a stroll through the central park eating your favorite ice creams before catching a subway back to your home.

As soon as you got into your apartment Peter had quickly changed into his spare clothes he kept at your place due to the amount of time he stays overnight.

You walk out of your room changing into your comfy pajamas and stop at the doorway to watch Peter in the kitchen heating some popcorn to eat while watching the movie you had chosen.

Peter feels your eyes on you and looks up. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Nothing, it's just been awhile seeing you in my apartment.” You say plopping down on the couch as you lean forward to grab the remote from the coffee table to switch on the tv.

Peter carries the bowl of popcorn and places it on the table and sits down beside you. “Hey” He reaches to take your hands in his. “I’m sorry for bailing on you all those times. I promise it won’t happen again.”

“It’s ok, Peter.” You lovingly cup the side of his face. “Besides being spiderman you’ve your own life too. I can't monopolize all your time.”

“Don’t you even think of that.” His expression turns serious as he holds your hand a little tighter. “You will always come first to me no matter what.”

“Aww I’m honored Parker.” You joke trying to lighten the mood.

“I mean it Y/N.” He says unamused.

“Ok, ok tiger calm down. You’re important to me too Peter now can we start watching the movie?” He nods and leans back, getting comfortable on the couch as you press play.

The movie starts and you sidle closer to him to rest your head on his shoulder putting a throw blanket around yourselves.

By the time the movie ends you were fast asleep all cuddled up against him. Peter looks down at your face so calm and beautiful. You let out a small sigh and snuggle closer to him.

Peter smiles and reaches to brush off a strand of your hair falling over your face. On many occasions during a movie night you both have ended up cuddling together but somehow today it feels a lot more intimate. You in his arms feel so right as if you belong to him and he belongs to you.

It feels like home.

He has been keeping a secret from you and that was one of the reasons he bailed out those few nights. He was unconditionally and irrevocably in love with you. And he was scared that if he were alone with you he would act out on those feelings. And what if you didn’t feel the same for him?

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#peter parker #peter parker fluff #peter parker angst #peter parker x reader #peter parker smut #tasm!peter parker #tasm!peter fanfiction #tasm peter parker #tasm!peter fluff #andrew garfield #andrew garfield x reader #andrew garfield fluff #andrew garfield smut #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!peter smut #spiderman fanfiction #peter parker oneshot

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kitcat992 · 2 years

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│Identity Saga │Narrative Discourse (The road to "Tony")

Identity Saga

Identity Theft │ Chapter 9: Down Came the Rain

Tony growled in frustration. “Kid, get out of there, now!”

Peter still wasn't answering.

FRIDAY counted down the impending explosion.

The panic in his gut tripled, his chest tightening with fear.

“Peter, NOW!”

“I can’t — I can’t!” The cries broke through the comms, full of crackling static and panic. “I’m stuck, I — you gotta help me, Tony, I’m stuck!”

The determination flooded through him like a broken damn, and Tony flew through the exploding Chitarui faster than the Quinjet could have taken off.

“FRIDAY, boosters — now!”

The boot jets lit up, no sooner than his next shout broke through his throat.

Identity Theft │ Chapter 12: The Doctor Is In

“I don’t understand," Tony was still breathing heavy, and it showed in each word he spoke. "I saw it. We saw it!” And yet he just saw his own physical body, a literal out of body experience. He still felt light on his feet, as if he'd forgotten how heavy his body weighed. “There was nothing left of him, his suit, his body — all gone. I even went into that building to find him and —!"

The fire spread across his skin. The air became hard to breathe as his lung constricted, the flames that didn’t exist threatening to burn him alive. Tony's fingers clutched tightly at his t-shirt, pulling the fabric away in hopes that it would help him breathe easier.

He didn’t know if he had the strength to steer away a panic attack right now. The thought of remembering the burning warehouse brought to life a monster that sat heavy on his chest, threatening to consume him alive.

Normally cool, calm and collected, there was no denying the unraveling of his behavior. He was panicked. He was past panicked, he was full blown frantic. Everything that made Tony Stark having been thrown out the window the moment he thought Peter was dead.

“I’m stuck, I—you gotta help me, Mr. Stark, I’m stuck!”

His blood went cold. The nightmares that had been keeping him awake flashed to the front of his mind and replayed like a movie, scene after scene stuck on repeat.

But something seemed wrong.

Suddenly, something didn’t click.

Tony closed his eyes to remember.

“I’m stuck, I—you gotta help me, Mr. Stark —"

How did it go down?

"You gotta help me, Mr. Stark —"

How did it really happen?

Remembering that moment was a pain he couldn’t bear; the smell of ashes still present, the burning skeleton in his nightmares ever so vivid. The soot lingered on his tongue, the pressure of grief gripped at his heart. But the memories were corrupted; twisted into something his mind wanted him to believe.

He told Peter to get out. And for the longest time, the kid didn’t respond.

But when he did…

“I’m stuck, I—you gotta help me, Tony, I’m stuck!”

Tony's eyes shot open. Any wider and they would've fallen straight to the floor.

“I can’t believe I didn’t notice it sooner," he muttered, all in one breath.

Steve craned his head over towards him, his eyebrows furrowing deep.

“Notice what?” he dared to ask.

When Tony turned to look at Steve, the clarity in his eyes stood out more than the emerald glow of Strange's amulet. The glaze was gone, the alcohol long since wearing off. In its place was sobriety — absolute, undoubted certainty.

“He called me Tony." The words struck hard. "When he called for help, when he said he was stuck…he said my name.”

Rhodey tried not to look confused, and tried even harder not to look unaffected.

"Okay...?" he drawled out, giving Tony a long once-over as he did. Gauging his friend's demeanor for whatever he was missing, and failing to find it along the way.

Tony looked to him, so quick his neck made an audible crack.

“The kid never calls me Tony," he stressed, a waver in his voice speaking to the severity of it all. "He’s like the epitome of perfect manners. Which means he was either desperate for help, or —"

Tony's face fell flat.

And then flatter after that.

"Son of a bitch.”

Identity Theft │ Chapter 26: Building Blocks

Peter looked at him with hesitation. “They said you thought I was dead? Was that true?”

Tony could tell it was something he had been dreading to hear. Peter’s muscles visibly tensed up, his shoulders pulled tightly and the crease along his forehead somehow deepening. Not to mention, his voice became so quiet Tony almost couldn’t hear him.

He knew the Ferry incident, albeit months ago, still hung heavily over the kid’s head. Tony had naively hoped his words back then wouldn’t ring to their current situation. The way Peter carried himself though, it told him there wouldn’t be any escaping that moment for some time to come.

“Unfortunately,” Tony affirmed, suddenly sounding painfully tired as he avoided Peter’s gaze. “Worst two days of my life.”

“How’d you...I mean,” Peter stumbled. “How’d you know it wasn’t me? In the building? Before it exploded, after they took me. They said you thought I died...how’d you—?”

“You called me Tony,” he answered, without missing a beat. “Self-correction. The bastard called me Tony. Using the helmet, of course, it sounded like you. But it wasn’t.”

Peter didn’t know what to say, or how to react, other than the fidgeting that his fingers made, pulling at the seams of the blanket beneath him.

“It wasn’t you,” Tony said, honestly, facing Peter head-on.

Peter blinked, both confused and startled.

“That’s...that’s it? That’s how you knew?”

The silence that followed only increased the sound of noise around them, beeping and humming from machines that further aggravated Peter’s senses. And yet, as Tony locked eyes on him, intently and sincerely, the sound began to dissipate. For a fleeting, brief moment, the IV drips and heart monitors could’ve been a world away.

“Yeah,” Tony said, softly, the nod of his head even softer. “That’s how I knew.”

Identity Crisis │ Chapter 21: The Eleventh Hour

“Oh, whatever,” he drawled out, rolling his eyes. “You’re so extra, Mr. Stark.”

“Mr —” Tony matched Peter’s eye roll with his own. “Oh, for the love of God. Kid, I know I’m growing gray, but must you add insult to injury?”

A drop of confusion had Peter furrowing his brows deep.

“Huh?”

Tony side-eyed him, and he did it good.

“I have a name,” he said, flatly. “I don’t know if after all this time you’ve forgotten what it is, but —”

“You have a — well, yeah, of course. Duh,” Peter stammered, flummoxed. “It’s just —”

“Tony,” he interrupted. “Can you say it? Are you able to repeat after me? Is your tongue even capable of speaking those syllables?”

Peter opened his mouth to speak, but faltered along the way. He wasn’t sure what to say — both confused and somehow embarrassed, the sudden change of subject bringing goosebumps to his skin.

His lips clamped shut and he looked away, ducking his head where his face couldn’t be seen and hopefully neither could his red ears.

Tony stared at him, unguarded, before his eyes snapped back to the road.

“Tone. E. Let me hear it,” he teased. “I dare you. Break the epitome of manners, shatter the universe and the gravitational pull. Open a portal to the fifth dimension. You must think all these things will happen if you call me something other than Mr. Stark.”

Peter sunk further into the seat, crossing his arms over his chest and tucking his chin low to his chest.

“Now you’re just being extra extra.”

“I’m giving you permission, Underoo’s,” Tony reached over, lightly slapping Peter’s shoulder. “Nay, you’re getting the privilege — uh uh, the honor of calling me by first name. You know how few people get that? Did you know that it took five years before I let Happy look me in the eye?”

Despite how low Peter had ducked his head, it was impossible to hide the grin that crept across his face. “I’m not calling you Tony.”

With a range of volume that managed to reach over the car’s stereo, Tony snapped his fingers.

“So you can say it!”

“It’s weird,” Peter finally shot back.

Tony threw him a look, flourished with his own confusion.

“Why?” A beat passed before he turned his attention back to driving. “How? Explain your work, Mr. Parker.”

For a moment that felt as long as the miles they were driving, Peter drew a blank. He didn’t know how to put it into words — and for what it was worth, he tried, chewing on his bottom lip with deep deliberation. The kind that put a line between his eyebrows and wrinkled at his nose.

It wasn’t until two cars passed them on the road — showcasing just how slow Tony had started driving since their conversation began — that Peter finally managed a response.

“It just...is.”

An articulate response, at that.

Tony snorted to solidify that much.

Peter was quick to defend.

“You’re Mr. Stark!” He shifted awkwardly in the passengers seat. “That’s just...that’s who you are. It’s who you’ll always be to me.”

It was the most Peter could muster up. The rest of his argument fell flat on his tongue, and perhaps it was the dusk of the night making him tired, but he had no means to try harder.

Maybe it was as simple as that. Maybe, just maybe, there wasn’t anything more to say because it was all that needed to be said.

Tony didn’t seemed bothered with the lack of an explanation. He fell quiet alongside Peter — a comfortable silence, albeit slightly electric, lingering with the fizzle of a once vibrant debate.

The sun had officially set and the dim orange of the sky was quickly replaced with rich, deep blues. The Nevada stars had started to light up the landscape, and far off in the distance the moon could be seen over the horizon.

Peter chewed on his bottom lip, admiring the sight from the passenger window. He was tempted to grab his camera and take a photo — his good camera, the new one Mr. Stark had given him. The expensive one that Mr. Stark had given him. It still made him nervous using the thing. He wasn’t sure it would’ve ever left his closet had Mr. Stark not taken him on this trip.

Mr. Sta — Peter looked away from the window, a heavy feeling settling in his chest.

He looked to Tony, the man too focused on driving to notice his staring.

“Did you…” Peter cleared his throat, sitting up a tad bit in the seat. “Did you...want me to call you Tony?”

The silence that followed became a lot less comfortable and far more ‘oh crap, oh crap, take it back, take it back —’

“Cause I — I mean, if that’s what you want,” Peter scrambled to say. “I can — I mean, it’s weird, but I can totally —”

“Pass me the Twizzlers.”

Tony outstretched his hand without so much giving Peter a glance.

Peter furrowed his brows tightly together. “I said I didn’t have any left —”

“Parker.”

Tony looked at Peter with just his eyes, a side glare so intense that it could be seen even in the dusk ambiance of the car.

For a fleeting moment, Peter played dumb.

It didn’t last long.

“Fine,” Peter relented, painfully at that. Bending down to grab his backpack, he dug deep into the many pockets, unzipping what felt like a thousand zippers until he got where he needed to be.

Random brochures he’d been collecting from different states cluttered most of his path, and with a twisted face, he reached deep inside until finally, a loosely covered piece of red licorice was in his grasp.

Peter glanced to see if Mr. Stark noticed him picking off the lint that covered the candy. When in the clear, he handed it off to the man, as if it hadn’t been in the depths of his backpack.

Tony placidly took it, biting it into with long, extended chews. Drawing out the silence even further.

Close to a year. There was a lot Peter had come to learn about Mr. Stark during that time. When to take him seriously, how to tell if he was joking — after all, the man almost never joked with a smile. It took time, and many lab nights spent together, but Peter liked to think he’d gotten to know Tony pretty well.

Staring at him — studying him — it was almost as if Tony wanted to say something else. As if there was something sitting right on the tip of his tongue, but he kept it at bay with the Twizzler dangling loosely in his fingers.

Curiosity got the best of Peter. As it always did.

“I can…” Peter cleared his throat, awkwardly. “I can...call you, Tony, Mr. Stark.”

Still, nothing.

It wasn’t even silent, for crying out loud. Peter could hear the hum of the radio in in lieu of their conversation. It was nearly muted, but it was there.

And yet somehow, no response from Tony seemed like the ultimate silence.

“It’s no big deal,” Peter added, for the sake of hearing anything besides his own nervous breathing. “It’s...it’s just a name, right?”

Tony bit into the licorice for a second time, chewing hard. His jaw made pronounced movement, nearly suppressing the hum that sounded from his throat.

“No.”

Tony shook his head, much to Peter’s surprise.

Letting out a sigh that was somehow both pained and relieved at the same time — a complicated sigh, to say the least — Tony tapped his finger against the drivers wheel. The piece of candy bounced alongside it.

“No, it’s not just a name,” he finally said. “Mr. Stark is fine. Mr. Stark is… it’s you.”

There were half a dozen thoughts let loose in Tony’s head, none of which Peter could hear. But it could be seen, even in the darkness of the cars interior. Peter wasn’t sure how, he just knew what he saw — the heaviness that wore down Tony’s shoulders, the sudden look that crossed over his eyes — it said something that Mr. Stark wasn’t saying himself.

And then he spoke.

“You change that and...then it wouldn’t be you.”

Identity Crisis │ Chapter 20: Parasite

“Yeah...accidents happen,” he repeated, turning back to Peter with a coldness that imbrued his eyes. “Just like Principal Morita, right?”

Peter stayed quiet.

The persistent sound of tapping overtook the room. Tony had one finger released from the clench of his fist, tapping incessantly on the armrest of the chair with a calloused finger only a mechanic would have.

“Who do you think is keeping Captain Stacey off your back right now?” The tapping got louder, faster. “Who do you think is protecting you from attempted murder charges on your principal?”

The words slid out of Tony’s still clenched teeth, sounding rough and abused.

Still, Peter stayed quiet.

Tony’s eyes narrowed, and like the turbulent tide his emotions were, desperation suddenly turned to rage.

“Peter!”

“Yeah, I get it, Tony!” Peter shot back, enough aggression in his tone to shake the entire room. Pessimistic sarcasm latched onto his every word, ruthlessly ripping from his throat. “Everything is because of you! You’re great, you’re fantastic! You do it all! What more do you want me to say!?”

What came out as a shout ended as an echo, dismantling only once it bounced off the walls and dissipated in frequency.

Tony’s head whipped up, his neck at a very real risk of breaking from the sheer force of whiplash.

Peter said nothing else.

The silence was cutting. The room buzzed around them, technology humming at work. The sudden lack of dialogue created a bottomless disharmony from the myriad of machines.

Tony’s hands, still balled into fists, began to unravel. All too similar to his nerves.

“What did you call me?” he pushed the words out.

Peter stared back at him, a look on his face that stripped Tony of every last vestige of exhaustion burrowed deep on his bones.

Something inside of him broke. Something deep, far out of reach, something Tony didn’t even know existed.

It didn’t crack, it didn’t splinter.

“Did you just call me Tony?”

It shattered. And he felt it.

Peter paused, hesitated a second too long.

“I…” he trailed off, a warble in his voice breaking his false sense of fortitude. “I — maybe? I think?”

Tony threw him a disbelieving look — eyebrows in danger of disappearing into his hairline.

Peter was quick to amble on. “Haven’t — haven’t you’ve been...trying to get me to call you Tony? What’s…what’s the big deal?”

The hasty, frantic attempt to divert fault was only met with a hard look from Tony. He opened his mouth to answer, but faltered. Barely a second passed before he closed his lips, spreading them into a thin line.

The scans could tell him everything he needed to know on a scientific level. The data could prove the facts, the doctors could diagnose every inkling of illness that stemmed from the poison consuming Peter —

— but nothing, absolutely nothing, spoke the truth louder than the kid himself.

“Pete…” Tony’s brow creased as he swallowed hard to push down the lump swelling painfully in his throat. He lifted a hand that did nothing but gesture in Peter’s direction. It shook, both on purpose and yet somehow also not. “This isn’t you.”

Identity Crisis │ Chapter 31: In a Quiet Lagoon, Devils Dwell

“Hey,” Tony started, his face unequivocally honest. “I’m here for you.”

Peter blinked, and then blinked again, staring Tony down for a time that felt far longer than it could’ve been.

That didn’t sound like Mr. Stark.

Not the Mr. Stark he’d had come to know; changing through the months no different than the seasons that changed while they were in Wakanda. It reminded Peter an awful lot of his conversation with Steve, right before they left the country. How he saw a difference in the great Captain America— altering him, changing him. Just like time had changed Mr. Stark.

Peter saw different in the beginning. Time slowly, but surely, brought that on. The Mr. Stark, the one and only Tony Stark. The Iron Man.

Turned mentor. Turned friend.

And now, listening to him speak, using a gentleness Peter had never heard before...time had changed the seasons again. Turning him into something else.

Only once Tony finished speaking did Peter look back to the headstone in front of them. The sight never changed; not as time separated his visits, not with the leaves brushed away, and not even with Tony’s hand covering half of the R that ended Parker.

Peter’s eyes scanned the length of the gravestone, from left to right — making out the name of Benjamin Parker with crystal clear clarity, even in the late of night. And from there, his eyes drifted over Tony’s hand, covering half of the Parker surname before Peter turned his head to face the man directly.

When he realized it, Peter smiled.

“You going to freak out if I call you Tony?” he asked, a little more volume to his voice, with a tug at his lips adding a smile to the touch.

Tony arched an eyebrow, slightly, before warming up to the same smile.

“You get a one time pass,” Tony said, removing his hand from the gravestone to point a finger in the air. “Use it wisely.”

Though Peter hesitated, it didn’t stem from Tony’s false indignance. His smile grew wider at the edges, every pull of his muscles as sincere as the words that followed.

“Thanks, Tony,” Peter said.

Tony smiled back, patting him firmly on the shoulder. “You’re welcome, Mr. Parker.”

The wind blew by, rustling at the trees from above and shaking the branches along the way, dropping leaves in a scattered pattern to the ground below. At the same time, Tony unclenched his grasp on Peter, going to use his shoulder as a foothold when standing up.

#irondad #spiderson #tony stark #peter parker #tony stark & peter parker #fanfic discourse #fanfiction #writing #mcu fic #avengers fic #found family #don't mind me just rambling on about the fanfic that has taken up 99% of my free time for the last 4 years

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underburningstars · 2 years

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Prompt fill up for the 'Multiverse' square of SFSummerBingo22 @starkerfestivals

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The first thought Peter has when he wakes up in a box – made of glass of all things – is that he’s in deep shit. He has tried to punch the glass, kick it, even head-butt it but nothing seems to work. Even with his super strength the glass is impossible to break.

Giving up hope on breaking the glass, Peter tries to call out to his kidnappers. He should at least know why he’s kidnapped. After what feels like hours, he hears a door slide open and then footsteps approaching him. Nothing could’ve prepared him for who greets him.

“M-Mr. Stark…” Peter’s breath caught up in his chest. His vision started getting blurry with tears. Mr. Stark was alive. But the thought was quashed even before it could properly build up. Because even if Tony Stark somehow resurrected, everything about him was wrong. The man in front of him was taller, younger and his eyes – goddammit his eyes – were not the wonderful honeyed shade Peter loved so much. No, the were the brightest blue Peter had ever see.

“No. No no no. You’re-you’re not Tony Stark. Who are you? Who the hell are you?!”

“I am Tony Stark, Peter. Just better. A lot better.”

“There is no way you’re Tony Stark. He would never do this to me. He would never cage me like this.” Peter was outrageous. He couldn’t believe the nerve of this-of this imposter. How dare he say he was Tony Stark. How dare he say he was better.

“Oh honey don’t worry. This isn’t forever. I’ll let you out as soon as you learn to behave.” The man crooned.

“You’ll never get me to play this sick game of yours. I’ll find out whoever you are. I’ll defeat you and get out if here.”

“Oh my feisty little toy. Wouldn’t I love to see you try.” With that the man left leaving Peter alone in this glass cage.

After sometime someone, a guard by the uniform, brought him food. He didn’t talk. Didn’t answer even when Peter screamed. He didn’t eat. Even though he was hungry he didn’t want the give that man any kind of satisfaction by complying.

Suddenly a piercing pain fills his body leading him to blackout for a few moments. Peter is panting for air. He can’t breathe, he can’t even think. After, what feels like hours, Peter gets a hold of himself and realizes that he was electrocuted. He touched the back of his neck where it hurt the most. There wasn’t any object or even a scar there. But Peter figure the machine was put there. Then a familiar voice fills the space.

“Eat your food, Peter. The more you comply, the better for you.”

“Wha-what do you want from me? Why are you doing this? I don’t understand.”

“You will honey. In time you’ll understand everything. Right now stop trying to use that pretty little head of yours and do as I say. Got it?”

“…got it.” Peter realizes that there is no going out of here if he dies if repeated electrocution. And he needs to gather all the strength he can to get out of something that is most probably the biggest mess of his life.

Peter has no connection with time here. He doesn’t know what time or day it is. No matter how much he tried he couldn’t keep the grasp of how long he’s been here after he woke up. The man hadn’t come back again, for which Peter was immensely grateful.

He is still unable to understand what is happening here. That man obviously wasn’t the Tony Stark Peter loved so much. He may have the same face, the same voice, even the same smug smirk that made him look so much more handsome. But in no way that man was his Tony.

Peter was trying to think of ways to get out of this box when the door slid open again. This time though the man was adorning an iron man armor made of sleek silver and blue. Then the armor melted away. But instead of going inside the nanobot housing like the beading heart armor all the particles went inside his body.

“You seem to like what you just saw. Want me to tell you about it?” The man sighed when Peter didn’t answer.

“We can talk about this later. We have a lot of time left. What I wanted to tell you was that you should forget about your previous life and get adjusted to living here. Although not in the glass box. I’ll take you out of here soon enough.”

“I’m not staying here. I’ll get out of wherever you’ve held me in. You can’t keep me here.” Peter’s voice was firm and steady even though he was starting to feel scared.

“Oh my darling. Even if you do get out of my facility – which you won’t, by the way – you can’t escape from me. You still can’t seem to understand Peter but right now you’re in my world. My Earth.” Peter tensed up but the man didn’t stop talking. “I’m sure you’re aware of that Multiverses exist. Right now you’re in mine.”

“N-no. You’re lying. You’re obviously just trying to trick me into submission. I don’t believe your bullshit.” Peter was proud that his voice only wavered a little.

“Hmm. Why don’t we see then. You try to get out of this facility, if this earth and each time you fail I’ll kill someone from your earth. Maybe it’ll be someone you know. Or maybe a stranger. I’ll let you choose.”

“What? No, you-you can’t do that. Why are you doing this?” Peter was starting to think maybe there was no way out of this. Because if the man was lying Peter could go home. But if he was telling the truth, then the risk would be too much.

“Your Tony had quite a liking towards you. He built a time machine for you. And then died for you. At first I was merely curious about you. But after watching you for a whole I understand why he was so fond of you. And I wanted you all for myself. So here you are.” He ended his monolog with a triumph clap.

“Please.” His voice was barely a whisper now. “Let me go home.”

“But darling, from now on this is home.”

#ao3 #starker #tony stark #fanfiction #tony x peter #tony stark x peter parker #the avengers #ironman #spiderman #mcu #mcu multiverse #SFSummerBingo22 #starker community #starker fandom #starkerfestivalsevents

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waitimcomingtoo · 3 years

Text

Peppermint

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Synopsis: when you wear peppermint chapstick, you discover Peter hates peppermint

Masterlist

It started as an ordinary day.

You saw Peter and Ned in the dining hall between classes and went to join them like you normally did.

“Hi.” Peter smiled up at you from his seat when he saw you approaching.

“Hi, Petey.” You wrapped your arms around his shoulders before moving to kiss him. He craned his neck to kiss you back but pulled away sooner than usually.

It only went downhill from there.

You looked at him curiously and sat down, wondering why he stopped kissing you so fast.

“Oh.” He grimaced as he puckered his lips.

“What?” You looked between him and Ned, hoping someone had answers.

“You’ve made a bold choice today.” Peter nodded as he wiped his mouth off on the back of his hand.

“What?” You laughed in surprised.

“A lot of bold flavors going on.” He continued, taking out a napkin to wipe his mouth.

“What is he talking about?” You asked Ned when Peter gave you no answers.

“Oh, I see.” Ned realized. “Is your chapstick spearmint?”

“No, I think it’s-“

“Peppermint.” Peter cut you off with a sour face. “It’s peppermint.”

“Am I missing something?” Your eyes shifted between the boys, still extremely confused.

“Peter hates peppermint.” Ned told you.

“You do?” You laughed and looked at your boyfriend. “Why?”

“It’s so gross. Oh my God, it’s still on me.” Peter gagged as he wiped his lips again.

“What is your problem?” You raised an eyebrow at his odd behavior. “You don’t want to be minty fresh?”

“Thats not minty fresh. That’s disgusting.” He shook his head and rubbed his face. “Ew, my hands smell like it now.”

“How did I not know you hate peppermint?” You sat back in your chair as you wondered out loud. “Is this why you threw up my my gingerbread house party last year?”

“Yes.” Peter answered. “And I guess I never told you because I assumed you would know I hate the most putrid smell on earth.”

“Peppermint is not putrid.” You laughed again, still not taking this seriously. “It’s sweet and minty.”

“No.” Peter shook his head repeatedly. “Evil spawn.”

“No, not evil spawn.” You insisted. “It’s a nice scent.”

“Princess, you know I hate to disagree with you, but I’m pretty sure Satan keeps a an diffuser with peppermint essential oil on at all times in hell.” Peter told you as he squeezed your hand.

“Now you’re just being dramatic.” You teased. “It’s just chapstick.”

You leaned in to kiss him again and he put his hand on your face to push you away.

“No. I can’t.” He gagged. “It’s too gross.”

You stared at him with a dropped jaw, not believing he just pushed you away. You realized that this wasn’t a joke to him and he actually hated peppermint.

“Fine.” You shrugged. “Then I just won’t kiss you today.”

Peter said nothing to this and instead nodded, as if he agreed. You raised an eyebrow, expecting him to object like he usually did if you said you weren’t going to kiss him. Peter was a very affection person, so you often teased him by threatening to withhold affection. You looked at Ned to see if he was seeing what you were seeing, and Ned looked scared.

“Oh No.” He gulped. “This isn’t good.”

“Peter!” You softly hit his arm, making him jump.

“What?” He asked.

“You’re supposed to protest!” You told him. “I’m your girlfriend and I just told you I’m not gonna kiss you.”

“And I’m being a good boyfriend and supporting your idea.” He smiled sweetly at you and rubbed your back. You scoffed and looked at Ned for help, but he offered none.

“School is the only place we can kiss each other anytime we want.” You reminded him. “You know Avengers are still banned from dating at the tower. Are you seriously not going to kiss me because of my chapstick?”

“It’s not because of your chapstick.” Peter told you. “It’s because of the scent of your chapstick.”

“Are you sure this is how you want to play this?” You asked Peter, giving him a chance to change his mind.

“Um…yes?” He said weakly, now worried about your sudden mood change.

“Fine.” You shrugged and stood up. “Then I’ll see you at the tower.”

“You’re not eating with us?” He asked, giving you puppy dog eyes.

“No.” You gave him a tight smile. “Clearly and me and my lips are not welcome here.”

You turned on your heel and walked away, leaving Peter and Ned alone.

“Bye!” Peter called after you. “I love you!”

“That went well for you.” Ned chuckled once you were out of sight.

“You don’t think she’s actually mad at me, is she?” Peter wondered.

“No.” MJ said, making Peter and Ned jump. “She’s not mad at you. She’s upset that you didn’t want to kiss her.”

“How long have you been listening?” Ned asked as he looked up at her.

“Since Ned said Senora Chavez had a nice ass.” MJ stated as she sat down next to Ned. “Listen, I know Y/n better than anyone-“

“Uh, I disagree.” Peter cut in. “Hi, Y/n’s boyfriends, nice to meet you.”

“Cute.” MJ deadpanned. “Best friend trumps boyfriend. Everyone knows that.”

“That’s not true.” Peter snorted. “Is it?”

“No.” Ned answered. “But I also don’t know.”

“What I’m trying to say is, you won’t win this.” MJ continued. “You have to get over your little peppermint tantrum or she won’t kiss you. Simple as that.”

“She can kiss me as long as she’s not wearing peppermint chapstick.” Peter shrugged, not seeing anything wrong with what had happened.

“She’s not gonna stop wearing peppermint chapstick, dummy.” MJ flicked him on the side of the head. “You just started a fight.”

“What? That wasn’t a fight.” Peter insisted.

“It’s a silent fight.” MJ explained. “She’s not gonna say anything about it and wait for you to apologize. If you don’t, then it becomes a real fight.”

“Apologize for what? For hating the worst smell in the world?” Peter scoffed.

“For being a diva and calling her gross.” MJ said like it was obvious.

“I didn’t call her gross.” Peter corrected. “I called her choices gross.”

“And that’s where you fucked up.” MJ made a face. “It’s fine if you don’t want my help, but you’re gonna lose your girlfriend over it.”

“That’s ridiculous.” Peter laughed in dismissal. “I am not going to lose Y/n over something as meaningless as peppermint chapstick.”

“See for yourself.” MJ shrugged and got up. “Later losers.”

Peter sat in silence for a moment as he thought about what MJ had said. You did seem upset when you left, so MJ might be right.

“You don’t think…” Peter began, and Ned knew where it was going.

“No.” Ned assured him. “But also I don’t know.”

“I’m sure we’re fine.” Peter said to convince himself. “It’s just chapstick.”

“Yeah.” Ned agreed. “Unless it’s not.”

“Yeah.” Peter worried. “Unless it’s not.”

Peter couldn’t keep the interaction off his mind all day. He could barely focus in the lab later that day when Tony had to take of you writing down chemical reactions he needed in a future experiment. If you were mad, you didn’t let on. But you also didn’t give Peter the impression that everything was fine. After ten minutes of writing in silence, he poked you with his pen.

“Psst.” He whispered.

“What?” You whispered back.

“You look pretty today.” Peter smiled softly at you.

“Oh yeah?” You tilted your head. “Then kiss me.”

Peter’s face fell, cheeky smile long gone.

“I can’t.” He whispered again.

“And why’s that?” You stopped writing to give him your full attention. Peter looked up as he thought of a good enough lie to tell you.

“I’m waiting for marriage.” He answered finally, making you nod your head.

“Were you waiting for marriage when we had sex last week?” You kept your tone neutral.

“I temporarily stopped waiting and I have now resumed.” He corrected himself.

“You’re an imbecile.” You spoke at full volume now, earning a glance from Tony.

“I hate peppermint!” Peter whined. “It’s gross!”

“Dumb and Dumber.” Tony called to you. “Is everything okay over there?”

“Yes, sir.” Peter calmed down. “Sorry, sir.”

“You’re gonna be sorry.” You laughed humorlessly as you started writing again.

“Princess.” Peter softened his voice and stroked your hair. “Just take it off and we can go back to normal.”

“I don’t want to take it off.” You shrugged. “In fact, I think I need some more.”

“Don’t.” Peter deadpanned as you reached into your pocket and took out your chapstick. You smiled sweetly at him before generously lathering the chapstick on your lips.

“Ew!” Peter began to dry heave and got out of his chair. “I’m gonna barf.”

“All right. That’s enough.” Tony sighed and stopped working. “Peter, hit the showers or something. I need you out of here.”

“Gladly.” Peter said as he glared at you.

“Gladly?” You raised an eyebrow. “And you said I was bold?”

“Y/n. You too. Out now.” Tony commanded so you gathered your things. You started putting on chapstick again, maintaining eye contact with Peter as you did it. He gagged before clutched your stomach while pinching his nose. You blew him a minty kiss before walking out of the lab with Peter following behind you.

“Are you happy now? Are you pleased as punch, Parker?” You spat as he continued walking. “Mr. Stark probably thinks we’re crazy now. Or even better, he’s gonna figure out that we’re together.”

Peter ignored you and kept walking, not wanting to talk when he was angry.

“You know what?” You continued. “He’s probably right. Since only crazy people would hate the luscious, beautiful smell of peppermint.”

Peter suddenly turned around and grabbed you, rubbing his hands over your lips to wipe off the chapstick.

“How dare you?” You gasped. “You ghoul!”

“You’re the ghoul!” He shouted back. “Peppermint is a sin!”

Steve and Nat, who were sitting in the living room and watching this unfold, exchanged a look.

“It is not!” You shouted. “You’re just being dramatic!”

“I can’t help it.” He shrugged. “This calls for drama. I hate it so much.”

“How much?” You asked as you slathered it on again. “How much do you hate it?”

“Please.” He covered his mouth and gagged. “I’m gonna be sick.”

“You need to get over this. It’s just a flavor.” You insisted.

“Demon flavor.” He shot back, hunched over with his hands in his knees and coughing.

“This is super weird, right?” Steve whispered to Nat.

“Yeah.” She nodded as she watched the scene in front of her with a disgusted look. “I think we should go.”

You watched Steve and Nat leave the room, feeling embarrassed with the strange looks they gave you. No one actually knew you and Peter were together, so you could only imagine what they were thinking. You looked back at Peter and saw that he was still gagging, bringing you to a decision.

“Fine, Peter.” You sighed and rubbed your mouth on the back of your hand. “I wiped it off. Are you okay?”

You crouched beside him and rubbed his back, worried he was actually going to puke. He slowly stood up and blew out a breath before nodding.

“Yeah. I’m sorry.” He frowned at you. “I didn’t mean to raise my voice at you.”

“I’m sorry too.” You said as you rubbed his shoulders. “We shouldn’t be yelling at each other in the hallway. Someone’s either gonna realize we’re dating or think we’re unstable.”

“Yeah. We do look a bit ridiculous.” He laughed shyly as he looked around.

“Yeah.” You chuckled as wrapped your arms around his neck. “And I’m sorry about the chapstick. I didn’t know you didn’t like it.”

“It’s my fault.” He insisted. “I should have told you. And I definitely shouldn’t have gotten that upset.”

“Maybe not.” You agreed. “But I should not have taunted you after I knew you hated it. That was mean.”

“Just a little.” He pinched his fingers together. “Are we okay now?”

“We’re okay. I love you, Petey.” You rubbed your thumb over his cheek, happy to have resolved it.

“I love you too, princess.” He smiled before leaning in to kiss you. Before your lips could touch, he sharply pulled away.

“Oh no.” He said gravely.

“What?”

“I smell it.” He squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to freak out.

“It?” You wondered.

“Your chapstick.” He admitted, making your groan. “I can smell it from here.”

“I wiped it off.” You whined, pulling your arms away from him.

“The smell.” He gagged. “It lingered. I cant kiss you. I’m sorry.”

“Are you serious?” You out your hands on your hips and stared at him.

“Yes.” He answered. “I’m sorry. Can we make up but not kiss?”

“You’re not gonna kiss me because of a lingering smell of peppermint?” You said as more than a statement than a question.

“This is true, yes.” Peter nodded.

“Then I’ll see you later, Parker.” You shook your head and walked away from him. Peter sighed sadly as he watched you walk away, knowing that wasn’t how he wanted to end things.

“What was that about?” Sam asked as he wandered into the hallway. He overhead the fight from the kitchen and arrived in time to watch you leaving.

“Um.” Peter thought of a way to explain what just happened. “We had a little fight.”

“About what?” He pressed.

“Y/n is wearing peppermint chapstick today.” Peter answered honestly.

“And that concerns you because…?” Sam questioned.

“I don’t like the scent of peppermint.” Peter scoffed. “Does that make me a monster?”

“So what?” Sam snorted. “It’s not like you’re kissing her.”

Peter turned his face to the side so Sam wouldn’t see his inability to keep a secret.

“Hm.” Peter nodded stiffly. “Yes. It is not like I am kissing her. That was be absurd.”

“Right.” Sam said skeptically. “Because Avengers aren’t allowed to date each other. You know that, right?”

“I know.” Peter nodded too many times. “We’re not dating. I just hate peppermint.”

“For arguments sake, let’s say you were dating.” Sam began. “Because everyone knows that you are but no one cares enough to report you.”

“What?” Peter forced a laugh. “That’s ridiculous. We’re not dating.”

“Yeah. And I’m white.” Sam humored him. “If you were dating and fighting over the flavor of her chapstick, I’d give you one piece of advice.”

“What’s that?” Peter asked.

“Get over it and go kiss your girlfriend.” Sam sighed. “It’s just a flavor, but she’s not just a girl. Don’t risk a good thing over a bad scent.”

“Wow.” Peter soaked it in. “That’s pretty good advice. Thanks Sam. I always thought you didn’t like me.”

“I don’t.” Sam told him. “But I like Y/n. And I don’t want to live in this tower while you two are going through a messy breakup. So make up or shut up. Your choice.”

“Okay.” Peter nodded confidently. “I know what I have to do.”

Peter went back to his room and began to brainstorm ways to make it up to you. Before he could put his plans into motion, he heard a knock at his door.

“Come in”. He called from his bed.

“Hey, Petey.” You spoke timidly as you opened his door. You weren’t sure if he was mad at you or not, and he was wondering the same thing about you.

“Hey, princess.” Peter smiled softly. “It’s nice to see you. I’m glad you came to see me.”

“I missed you.” You smiled back as you sat on his bed. “Whatcha doing?”

“Just taking my daily vitamins.” Peter said as he laid his gummies out. You furrowed your eyebrows and moved his hand to see what his vitamins looked like.

“These are fruit snacks.” You told him as you held up a bright orange gummy.

“I’m so fragile right now.” Peter whispered before downing his fruit snacks in one go. You chuckled a little at your boyfriends antics and scooted closer to him.

“Talk to me about it.” You said as you rubbed his arm.

“I feel as though our relationship is not in mint condition.” Peter said without looking up at you. You caught on to his pun and let out a groan.

“Peter.”

“I’m sorry.” He smiled weakly. “You look beautiful.”

“What are you doing?” You asked skeptically.

“Giving you a compli-mint.” He fed you another pun.

“You don’t have to do this.” You assured him. “I caved. I’m wearing cherry chapstick.”

“You are?” His eyes lit up.

“Yeah. I threw the other one out.” You shrugged. “I don’t even like the smell of it. It was just the first one I grabbed this morning.”

“You don’t like the smell either?”

“It’s a little harsh on my nose.” You scrunched your nose. “Plus, it burns my lips.”

“You know what this means, don’t you?” Peter smiled wickedly.

“What does this mean?” You laughed.

“We are mint to be.” He said with a cheeky smile.

“Stop.” You whined. “The fight is over. No more puns.”

“Okay, I’ll stop.” He held up his hands. “I’m sorry I yelled at you. And I’m sorry I wouldn’t kiss you all day.”

“I’m sorry I yelled too.” You frowned and cupped his chin. “You can make up for it by kissing me now.”

Peter nodded happily and leaned in to kiss you, giving you a real kiss this time. He pulled away and kept his lips puckered, realizing he was tricked.

“You’re wearing peppermint chapstick.” He said matter of factly.

“Yep.” You smiled. “And you didn’t die, vomit, or burst into flames.”

“Hm.” Peter realized you were right. “It stings my lips a little. I kinda like it.”

“See? It’s not that bad.”

“Oh, it’s bad.” Peter corrected. “It’s just not as bad as I thought. Maybe I was a little too dramatic.”

“Maybe?” You teased.

“Fine.” Peter agreed. “But you knew I was dramatic before you started dating me. If anything, this is all your fault.”

“Why don’t we blame this on the entire concept of peppermint of call it a night?” You suggested and you laid down on his bed. Peter laid down beside you and wrapped his arm around you, still rubbing his lips together.

“You know what, princess? That sounds like a great idea.”

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2K notes · View notes

delicrieux · 3 years

Text

☆ﾐ 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢 “𝚘𝚑”

PART 23: PRETTY BOY

emotions run wild when everyone is drunk and hardly coherent. quackity is always loud, but tonight is a full on assault on the senses (the ears, in particular). bretman simps for corpse too much for your liking. rae is happy for once. there’s a confession of love somewhere in there. sister james makes a very good impostor, but that’s old news, the real question is who gave you a knife? a new persona emerges that leaves the roaches quivering in their boots.

─── corpse husband x reader, a lil bit of everyone x reader (because she’s a queen) ─── soc. media + written fiction! ─── word count: a lil over 7k.

author’s note: it’s the way i can’t follow a fucking calendar for me. sorry guys, i swear to god i thought i had one more day before thursday . the idiot award goes to me and i accept it with pride. anyway, i was excited to write this for a while! quackity is in mexico, that’s why he drinks, too. my fic, my rules, he’s too funny not to include. im also working on an extra w dream and mr quack so look forward to that, too! hopefully u like this part ily xx and as always lmk wat u think!!

ultimate masterlist. ҉ myso masterlist ҉ previous. ҉ next.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

The outfit for today was picked with care and consideration. Hot, as always- you had forgotten your roots, your hoodie and sweats lay hidden in the bottom of your drawer never to be worn on stream again. You’ve changed. Clout really does that to people. Some viewers, naturally, find your hotness near insulting: how dare you rub your beauty in their faces, and so unabashedly, too?! If only you had a twinge of self-awareness, perhaps you would tone it down. But you don’t, and whether that’s by choice or not is the mystery the whole internet tries to solve (ARMY has been working diligently, and you admire their effort, though in the end their tireless labor brings no tangible results).

You went from hot to hotter. In all truth, the fires eating away at California can be blamed on you. You carry this burden in stride, in your platform overpriced shoes some girl scammed you on Depop with, in your fishnets, in your skirt, in your corset, in your rings and necklaces and chains. You woke up today and chose violence. Decided your existence will be a plague to the rest of the populace, and meant it (that, maybe, you took inspiration from a certain faceless Youtuber that so happens to be your boyfriend or whatever). You feel powerful. Like you could step on the world and the world would let you. You decide that it’s the way it should always be.

The smile on your lips informs of nothing good to your quaint, small audience of 40k. You change the lighting in your room from the soft cherry blossom pink to menacing violet. As fitting for a villain.

Perhaps California’s hellish sun has finally purged you of your bubbly, docile nature (arguably, you had never possessed it to begin with); perhaps it’s the forth mimosa you’re mixing as people slowly trickle into the lobby. Who knows?! Not you, definitely. What do all of those boring dead white European philosophers say? Embrace the unknown? Cheers, you’ll drink to that.

In stark contrast to your appearance, your room is a fucking mess. A war-zone of epic anime scale. Everything is scattered, well, everywhere. A perfect representation on what’s going on in your mind, always. You don’t like how people focus on your surroundings-- you’re the main attraction, hello? Are you not enough to sustain them? Must they beg for more?! Totally ungrateful. You shake your head in disappointment, as if a mother scolding her children.

noooooo! mom pls forgive me i will never ask abt anything ever again T_T

yall looking at the room? lol couldnt be me

feels like im five and my mum just told me i cant eat a pretty rock i found on the pavement:(

You can’t contain your sly grin. Eyes twinkle with a purplish hue, appearing all the more menacing. You tricked them once again, oh how absolutely evil of you. In your blind delight you accidentally spill champagne on your lap.

“-Oop, fuck.” You snort.

why does she sound like goofy

The scandalous drunk Among Us stream is about to start. You had been eerily silent through the greetings, and those that chose to approach you were met with a cold shoulder and minimal replies. All on purpose, of course. You wish to plant a seed of unease within them, and so far, it’s working. There are questions unanswered, jokes unsaid, Quackity unteased. It breaks your heart, but it must be done. You look into the camera, all vulnerable and devout, as if to say: I’m doing this for you, all for you.

pack it up yandere simulator

idk whats going on but i think im into it?

villain arc villain arc villain aRC VILLAIN ARC

“Hey, guys,” Corpse’s voices rings in your headphones, and not a blink later his astronaut appears in the lobby in a cloud of smoke, “Hi, Y/n.”

More sharp, excited hellos follow after. You merely hum, though give no further reply. As Corpse strays to your side, Charlie steps in in front of him, “BDA access only. You have a permit, bitch?”

“Y/n is being quiet-she’s being quiet, guys!” Quackity helpfully informs, as if the rest failed to notice your cryptic silence, “Don’t be sad Corpse, man, Corpse don’t be-she didn’t say shit to me either.”

“Y/n has decided to not waste her breath on the SDS.” Charlie voices, “And you know what? I actually agree with her for once.”

“SD-what now?” Dream questions.

“The Small Dick Society.” Charlie explains, noting Dream’s whine of protest, “Oh no, don’t give me that shit, weren’t you bitching about not being invited and not belonging to exclusive clubs? Congratulations, you’re finally part of one.”

“Wait!” Quackity interjects, “Am I part of it too?”

“Guess, Sherlock.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Corpse says. You nod to your audience, like he just spoke the God honest truth, and follow in his example. Your tentative sip unexpectedly turns into a greedy gulp, but you’re not complaining. The only slightly coherent thought that rings in your mind is drink tasty.

“Ignore them,” Rae chimes, “Y/n’s probably plotting something and using Charlie as a cover up.”

“I’d never.” The words slip past your lips before you can stop them.

“Well you sure are very quick to deny it.” You can hear her smirking, can hear the proud lilt in her voice, like she caught onto your silly little scheme, like she has you all figured out. Your eyes narrow dangerously. The night behind your window pools dark, with far away city lights glimmering before they, too, seem to dim.

Your roommate is back on your shitlist. How her name was missed among the rest.

“I’m defending my honor.” You yelp, the playfulness back in your voice along with your sunny smile, “I can’t have my wifey slandering me online. At least do it in private, geez.”

If Rae’s such a good detective, you’ll give her a good chase. Perhaps you’ve been laying it on too thick. Made her too suspicious. She can’t out you yet--not when your plans are so grand, so fun. It would be a waste.

“Why weren’t you saying anything then?” Quackity questions.

“Do I need a reason not wanting to talk to you?” You shoot back. Your friends laugh and he tries to shriek something past their cackle. You lean back into your chair, the tension from Rae’s confrontation finally easing. You wink at the camera and bring a finger to your lips. The roaches swear to secrecy, elated by your wickedness. As appropriate, they spam devil emojis and various renditions of evil hohohos and hehehes. The apple truly does not fall far from the tree. You had raised them well. You raise your glass in solidarity. A few donations fall into your pocket, easily summed up as: make them suffer.

Muting the discord call, you give a single response, “Oh, I intend to.”

i hope this doesn’t awaken something in me

^already too late for me bro

As caught up in wreaking havoc among your viewers as you are, you miss Sykkuno’s entrance, though from what you can tell, Charlie gave a stern warning to back the fuck off to him, too. He’s playing into your plan so beautifully. Truly, you couldn’t do this without him. Back to stalking the chat you go.

Your eyes flicker to the game upon Bretman’s signature drawl and “Hi, daddy.”. You have no time to get offended at Corpse’s sweet “Hi, honey” back, because the next person to join the discord call and the lobby leaves you speechless. You knew, of course, you had been informed of the line-up, but still, you had never expected yourself to be so close to Jomes Chorles himself. You make a weird gesture with your hands, half wave half excited wiggle, as if you’re telling the audience to calm down, when, in fact, it is you that needs calming.

He goes saying his hello’s like doing a public service, name by name, before, lastly, uttering, “Hi, Miss Y/n. Loooove the vids.”

He’s a roach in disguise, who could’ve known?! Your audience is so diverse and unexpected, gosh, you’d shed a tear if the mascara wasn’t so expensive.

“Hi!” You reply with a grin, and it’s genuine this time, a glimmer of your old self, “Hi, I love your videos, too. It’s like, really cool to finally meet you.”

“Oh my God, you too!” Is his enthusiastic reply, “Okay, the energy in the studio today? Love it.”

“Is this all of us?” Quackity asks.

“Sadly.” James says with a note of disappointment.

“HEY!”

“Okay, guys!” Ash chimes, “Let’s do this! Proximity Among Us, round one, go go go!”

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

Luck does not shine upon you during the first round- you are stuck as Crew Mate, your life cut short by Bretman who had the audacity to bite your head off. You’re positive Ke$ha wrote her hit single Cannibal about him, and if she didn’t, she definitely had a That’s So Raven moment and predicted it. It’s also insanely suspicious as after you are eliminated he sticks real close to Corpse, feigning innocence (and this is a controversial opinion you do not endorse) better than even you. It wounds your pride, having been picked off so casually, so quickly, and now stuck a ghost you roam the halls of the dying spaceship, lost, confused, heartbroken.

Charlie runs past you, not once even glancing in your direction. “Brother...” You mutter sadly, “Do you not see me here? Do you not feel... the loss of your twin’s heartbeat...?" Damn, these mimosas really are making you emotional. You sniffle and take a sip to calm the storm within you. No rage, just sadness. You are still processing your own tragic demise.

Suddenly, a meeting is called. There’s a horrible red X on your astronaut. You are the only one dead so far, and of course the rest won’t vote out the fucker. How bitterly you sit! With your arms crossed over your chest and your glare sharp enough to cut through glass. Fuck the sad shit, now you’re just angry. At the very least, the second Impostor could’ve given you some company!

“I knew something felt off.” Charlie is first to speak.

“Who the fuck killed Y/n?” Corpse questions, and his voice ignites a whole discussion that lasts much too short. The others skip, having no suspect yet. It’s much too soon to start pointing fingers, but you still feel like they should have at least tried. Pouting, you fix yourself another drink.

“Stop drinking!?” You gasp, exasperated at your chats demands, “I’m dead! What else should I do, the tasks?! Nah, fuck that. I’m done. I’m out. Charlie better employ his fucking detective skills because if the Impostors win, I will literally quit the game--yes I will, no I’m not bullshitting, fucking watch me.”

Thankfully, Bretman was caught venting, and you didn’t have to end the stream prematurely. The second Impostor, your roommate (oh, the betrayal, Rae, how could you?!) was voted out due to Corpse’s suspicion. Victory to the Crew Mates! The game restarts and you find yourself back in the lobby.

“Miss Y/n,” Bretman says, “I am sooo sorry for killing you first, baby. It was just too easy. I couldn’t pass it up.”

Giggling, Quackity chimes, “Sister slaughtered.”

“Oh my God,” James groans, “shut up!”

“Yeah, Y/n.” Charlie speaks, and there’s an accusatory note in his calm voice, “Why the fuck did you allow yourself to be eliminated first? Real noob shit, I expected more of you.”

“HUH?!” You frown, “What’s with the victim blaming?! I literally was doing my task and Bretman snuck up on me. It’s not like I had a weapon to defend myself!”

“You have been avenged,” Corpse states, “and that’s all that matters.”

“Thank you, Corpse!” You say, “At least someone cares.”

“Hey, I helped, too!” Dream pipes up.

“No, you didn’t.” Corpse shoots him down, “I was the only one.”

“You were not--”

“Literally was. Isn’t that right, Sykkuno?”

“Uhhhh-” Sykkuno trails off, “Well, we-we all helped!” You can hear his shy smile, and you just know he’s bobbing his head up and down at this exact moment, “We all helped. Team work!”

“Team work!” The rest echo, save for yourself, Corpse, Charlie, and the two Impostors. Silence speaks more than a thousand words or whatever. You pray to any higher power willing to listen to finally assign you the role of the villain, the one you were born to do.

Sadly, higher powers must have either shitty customer service or are in need of hearing aids, and you almost scream in frustration when your astronaut appears along with the others, the bold CREW MATE title chipping away at your master plan.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

“Hey, Y/n, hey! Hey, Y/n!” Rae finds you in Cafeteria, where you, metaphorically, are eating your feelings. Not that she needs to know, of course. She sounds chipper, a bit ditsy, and that must mean she’s sufficiently tipsy. You store that information for later, and forget about it as soon as you notice Dream and Sykkuno, like her very own personal bodyguards, trailing after her, “Wanna play a game?!”

“Is this Saw?” You inquire, somewhat lazy. You’d be lying if you said the alcohol wasn’t affecting you, it’s just instead of making you bubbly, it makes you mellow. This was supposed to be fun, you were supposed to terrorize everyone and laugh as they perished by your hand, yet here you are, wallowing in self-pity. The roaches start worrying. The donation jingle chimes.

BEATINGS & SLUTATIONS yns_fishnets donated 5$ mom just wait it out & dont worry youll get your vengeance soon lead them on!!!!

Your fishnets have a point!

“Saw?--No, no, haa, no it’s a drinking game.” Dream sounds like he has had one too many rounds of this mysterious game, and naturally, you are intrigued.

“Where we drink!” Sykkuno clarifies. Right, well that explains everything! If you had any questions, you surely have none now.

“Okay, so, name a category, and you have to, like, say a word associated with it...Or something along those lines.” You hadn’t even agreed and Rae is explaining the rules already. She knows you too well. It’s both a blessing and a curse, “Can be anything! Okay, Y/n, Y/n, Y/n start!”

“Uhh--” If only your brain computed as fast as she spoke! “Song lyrics! Wait--who drinks?”

“You fail, you drink!” She hurries, “Choke me like you hate me but you love meeeeee. Syk, go, go go!”

“Uhm, ah, I don’t wanna feel like this, uh, fuck?” He laughs--it’s a raspy, embarrassed little sound, “I don’t...wanna look like this? Dream, now you!”

“Wait, we’re singing Corpse’s songs?”

“Any song!” You urge him quickly, “Hurry! Or drink!”

“She say I kill her cat like I'm Luka Magnotta--”

“Hey! That’s cheating! You can’t use my song!” Rae protest.

“That wasn’t in the rules!” He counters.

“Y/n! Time’s running out!” Sykkuno exclaims.

“Oh, uh, will-will the real Slim Shady please stand up!”

NOT EMINEM WHAT THE FUCK

MOOOM WHT THE HELL THIS ISNT 2008 T_T

“Ra-Ra-Rasputin, Russia’s greatest love machine--”

“All...All the other kids with the pumped up kicks better, uhh, run better run, faster...-faster than my gun?”

“Uhh, shit--fucking hell.” Dream laughs, and Rae practically screams at him to keep going, “Alright! Okay! I’m singing--uh, you’re so golden, na na na na?”

“I tell you what a woman loves most,” You chime gleefully, “it’s a man who can slap but can also stroke.”

finally, the mother mother representation we’ve all been waiting for

i aint exactly gay but i aint exactly not gay >:)

the bis won

“I steal a few breeeeaaaths from the woooorld for a minute--”

“Mitski?!” You question, eyes bulging, “Baby, who hurt you?”

Even if you can’t see her, you know she’s waving her arms around and shaking her head, “Not the point! Sykkuno!”

“Uh, I-I, uhm, I don’t--”

“Drinnnnk!” You all chorus.

“It was a good concert,” You say, “Syk, I’ll drink with you.”

“Thank you, Y/n. That’s very kind of you.” He says softly, with a smile lining his lips. You grin.

“Oh, fine. Everyone, bottoms up!” Rae decides, and no one protest. A moment of silence passes, then, “Well, GG, GG, let’s do some tasks?”

Your enthusiastic Ariana Grande-esque “yuh” is cut short by the second meeting of game two being called. The first one to go had been Ash, voted out during a bathroom break as a joke, and you still feel a bit bad about that. Now, you notice Charlie has been eliminated. A sense of righteousness fills you--while you mourn for your brother from another mother and father and family tree, you feel like this is divine punishment for slandering you before the start of this round. Karma. Nothing much is discussed, and the meeting ends shortly with everyone skipping.

You spend a good ten minutes wandering around with Dream, who’s mission appears to be convincing you to join his Minecraft server, and really, there was no need for him to try so hard. You failed to provide him with a concrete answer only because it would've been to humiliating to admit that you agreed instantly upon hearing the word Minecraft.

That’s when things get fucking weird. Another meeting is called whilst you’re in the middle of fixing lights, and once the board with the members appears you audibly gasp. There had been 8 living, breathing astronauts rushing around the map, and now only 4 remain. You, Corpse, James, and Alex.

“What the fuck--what the fuck?!” You screech alarmed, noting Dream being among the perished crew, “I was just with Dream fixing the lights, I was just with him, what the fuck--”

“Okay, no one panic.” James says, “Let’s figure this out. Okay? Okay. Who else is close to Electrical?”

“I’m at Nav.” Quackity says.

“I’m at Cafeteria, but Y/n--” Corpse starts, “kinda weird that Dream died when you were with him?”

“I didn’t fucking kill him, I swear to God, Corpse, why are you accusing me?”

“Don’t be so defensive.” He says smoothly, “I’m just pointing out the obvious. We all have a reason to be sus, no? Considering you were right with him.”

“...It is suspicious.” James agrees, and a part of you dies inside. You understand their hesitance to trust you, but it doesn’t make it any less frustrating!

“Guys, I didn’t kill him, I swear. He invited me to play Minecraft, I wouldn’t do that to him, not after that!”

Corpse merely hums, and it brings no comfort what’s so ever. The situation is spiraling, and not in your favor. Trying to salvage your chances at freedom, you try again, “Wh-James, James, you called the meeting, right?”

“Yeah, I found Rae’s body near Medical.”

“So I couldn’t have killed her and Dream at the same time!” You latch onto that piece of information, hoping it will save you.

“You could’ve vented.” Corpse points out, “Plus, there’s no telling how old the body is.”

“Killing five fucking people? It’s the work of one person, or else the game would have already ended. As it stands, I am no way sober enough to think all of this out.”

A brief silence hangs in the air; your lungs constrict from tension, from spilling words so hotly. You grasp your glass, as if for emphasis, and take a shy sip. It taste sweet, a bit too sweet for your liking. Must be your nerves. You drink again to wash the taste out of your mouth, which, surprisingly, doesn’t work. You whine a little, stomping your feet like a child about to throw a temper tantrum.

“...I believe her.” Quackity says. You breathe out a sigh of relief.

“Alex, thank youuuuuu!” You gush, batting your lashes as if he could somehow see you and that would somehow portray your innocence, “I knew I liked you for a reason!”

He mutes his mic, his spill of words lost to your ears, but chat helpfully informs that he’s screaming because you don’t hate him.

y/n out here collecting men like pokemon cards

Now all that’s left is to convince the others. You start with the one you know will work, “Corpse,” You address him in your sweetest voice.

“Y/n,” James warns, “don’t you dare--”

“Baby, I didn’t kill anyone, I’m crew mate, you gotta believe me.”

“She's innocent.” Corpse declare, thoroughly convinced.

“Oh my fucking God, you fucking simp!” James laughs, “She’s obviously manipulating you!”

“No, no, she isn’t. She’s innocent, I agree with Quackity. Now, it’s either you or him.”

“Could be you for all we know!” Alex accuses.

“Guys, time’s running out.” You mutter fretfully, noting the seconds tick by from white to red.

“I’m voting Alex.” Corpse says.

“What?! Fucking traitor! Fine, I’m voting for you.” Alex hisses.

“Ugh, hate agreeing with Quackity, but I’m also voting Corpse. Sorry, hon, nothing personal.” James says. The VOTED icons pop up beside their characters and you panic, pressing your mouse idly but it’s too late, there wasn’t enough time, and you cry as Corpse is thrown into lava. The chat spams F, and it feels like salt on a fresh wound.

In a second you’re back in Cafeteria, shell-shocked and trembling, and Quackity cusses because the Impostor is still among you. His frustration doesn’t last long as you watch in horror as Jams Chortles, beauty guru supreme, murders the only other crew mate in cold blood and all you can do is gape and let his cheerful laughter fill your ears. The screen bleeds red, informing of Impostor victory, the second one being Ash. Looks like you voted her off for the right reason, but little difference did it make.

“Corpse!” You yell past the cacophony of voices, all in varying forms of excitement or anger, beelining for his in-game figure, “Corpse, I’m so sorry, I panicked, I tried pressing the button but I wasn’t quick enough--”

“It’s alright, baby. Don’t worry about it.” He’s so calming, so gentle, you might burst into tears again. What did you do to deserve him? You wish he was with you so you could smother him in a hug. Alas, all you can do now is say “I kith you, mwah!” and rush to the other side of the lobby, as if to hide from such a bold display of affection, even if it was a joke (it wasn’t).

yall say corpse simps for y/n but the reality is y/n simps for corpse harder

queen stop its embarrassing

bhaddies can simp!! i wouldnt but its her choice <3

More deliberations, commentary, and short breaks. Once everyone has returned, the countdown starts. You’re still reeling from the chaos of emotions, the five stages of grief you experienced in 1 second upon Corpse’s unjust demise, that it takes you a moment, a single heartbeat to realize what you’re seeing on screen.

The letters IMPOSTOR hang above your astronaut, with Dream standing just behind you as your newly appointed partner in crime. And suddenly, all the sadness and the tenderness and sympathy vanish with a curt exhale. You slowly turn your head to the chat, muting the Discord call, your soft chuckle of disbelief turning into a full blown laugh.

it’s happening!!!!

omg omg omg omg

VILLAIN ARC VILLAIN ARC VILLAIN ARC

You slap your palm over your lips, trying to contain your wicked smile, to tone down your broken giggles, “N-No, I can’t laugh yet,” shaking your head softly, you look into the camera, “they’re all going to die.”

pack it up light yagami

this has awoken something in me.

^ same

The crew mates go their own ways, rushing to do their tasks like the diligent little workers they are. How adorable. Their grim fate is still miles away from them. The shit you’ll pull will be for the history books. Much like your outfit, which you picked keeping in mind your newfound thirst for blood, you had devised your plan of action with care and consideration. You had been mulling it over all day, drawing on paper like the absolute madwoman you are; hell, you even made sticky notes on who to go for first and what to say. Sure, being moderately drunk hinders your memory slightly (an understatement of the century), but you got a feel for what you’re going to do. It’s nothing short of evil.

Dream and you don’t exchange words, you merely nod at him-- which he, of course, can’t see-- but your criminal bond enables telepathic communication. You can hear his thoughts, ones that strangely sound like drink drink, drink drink. And really, who are you to refuse such an enticing offer?! As he fucks off to stalk his victims, or play pretend, you take a sip. The cocktail is still sweet, but this time it’s not the icky sweet you had tasted prior. You glance at your sticky notes, ones the roaches can’t see, and nearly spill your drink for the second time today as you jerk.

“Fuck!” You exclaim, shoving your headphones off and spinning in your chair. You hastily stand up, wobble -- the world is pleasantly funny right about now -- and giggle. Stepping past the mountains of abandoned clothes and pillows and blankets and anime plushies, you maneuver your way to your bedside table and yank it open, nearly taking out the whole drawer with you. In the mess of old diaries and bad drawings, pencils, jewelry, and stickers, you fish out something you should not be wielding in your inebriated state.

It’s a knife.

In midst of teenage angst you had ordered it off of Amazon with your mom’s credit card, all the while whining that it’s not a phase, mom, and it’s what all of my cool kid friends with fried hair have, and don’t you want me to fit in, don’t you want your daughter to be happy?! You think it’s about that time, the time of too much uneven eyeliner and black eye shadow, that she took to calling you little raccoon. Trash rabbit was your personal favorite, but she used it sparingly. When you presented your Macy’s outfit, holding up a fucking butterfly knife, to your dad, asking if it was a look, he glanced up from some boring business magazine all boring business dads read and said, with a bright smile might you add, “It’s a something!”.

Oh, how it gleams in the lilac light. You used to do tricks with it, back in eight grade maybe, and--what the fuck? Why did you parents allow you to buy it in the first place? Well, because you’re the only child, the only one important, of course they got it for you and clapped enthusiastically at your performances, because why wouldn’t they? The whining they’d face otherwise would’ve been harder to endure than a whole dance number to Panic! At The Disco’s greatest hits. Broadway looked so fucking shabby in comparison. Your mom said so, so it must be true.

Stumbling back to your extremely confused viewers, you take your seat, feeling a bit more grounded now that you’re not standing on your platform shoes anymore. Putting on your headphones, you grin at the chat that starts swimming, and not from too much drinking either. You do a quick flick of your wrist, one that thankfully doesn’t end in injury, and the sharp tip of the exposed knife points upwards, glimmering. It’s a rainbow colored one, because one, it’s pretty, and two, you weren’t hardcore enough for the jet-black or straight up military ones the other emo kids had. Cute and dangerous, just like you.

So you just sit there, holding it up, looking somewhat sly as the roaches capture this momentous moment with screen-caps. Someone definitely clipped you trudging past the obstacle course to obtain a weapon of mass destruction. You must be already trending on Twitter, though you can’t exactly log on and confirm your suspicions. You just feel like you might be, like you should be, because your audience wouldn’t let this slide. Thankfully, your friends don’t have time to check social media, or you’d be outed in an instant.

“Y/n?” Your roommates voice booms from your headphones, and you perk up with a stupid realization that you completely forgot about Among Us. Stuck at the start, at the lobby where Dream had left you, you see her astronaut waddling to you, “What are you doing here? Wait--Have you not moved from the beginning?” She can barely finish the sentence without giggling.

You grin, “I was looking for something.”

Your voice is soft, too calm for your usual frantic spill. You gently set the knife down, hand coming to rest on your mouse, fingers idly, slowly, bouncing on the buttons.

“...What were you looking for?” She’s none the wiser, the numerous drinks consumed tonight numbing her sharp mind. She would have noticed. Your eerie composure would’ve given it away in a heartbeat, or at least hinted at something being objectively wrong. But she sounds curious. Poor girl, hasn’t she heard? Curiosity killed the cat.

“A knife.”

“A knife?!” There’s something about her tone that implies a mental clicking, the puzzle pieces falling together, “You have a knife?!”

“Yes.”

“No!”

You think it would only be appropriate that the random sequence of killing animations renders the backstabbing one. You grin, biting your lower lip with a quiet snicker.

i love women

if evil bad...why seggy?

You take your time leaving her there -- in true serial-killer-to-be fashion, you stick around for a bit longer, admiring your handiwork, or more like the chat singing your praises. You joined today with the intent of making an interesting stream. You have no doubt in your mind that now it will be legendary.

You move down the hallway, and you let your imagination wander: you can almost feel the stuffy air of your helmet, can almost hear your loud footsteps echoing in all this hush, can almost see your reflection in the spotless tile floor. It’s not long before your second victim makes an appearance, running circles in Cafeteria. You hear his voice first before you see him, recognizing Alex by his unhinged screech of “Let’s go, let’s go, let’s goooo!”

“And what’s got you so excited?” How cool and collected you are, gosh, you barely contain the quiver of excitement that threatens to slip out.

“Y/n!” He exclaims, rushing to your side like a lost puppy--he’s really making this easy for you, he’s not even trying, “You just missed--Oh my fucking God, you just missed James, he-he called me tall, he called me fucking tall! Let’s go, let’s gooooo!”

“Well, you are tall, aren’t you?” You chime sweetly, almost as sweet as the drink that lingers on the tip of your tongue, “Real 6′3 energy, no?”

“Yes, yes, exactly! You get it, you fucking get it--” Once again, his mic goes mute, and you glance at the chat for help.

hard to transcribe what hes saying but hes taking shots and yelling that he loves you good job mom

hey, queen! girl, you have done it again, constantly raising the bar for us all and doing it flawlessly

mom plz dont kill alex hes too cute hes all uwu rn

Oh, how you’re about to break his poor little heart. If you had any good left in you, you’d spare him. You don’t, and you’re not taking requests at the moment, so all you do is smile at your chat and they know. They just do. Hive-mind shit, you’re all two-faced little fuckers.

You giggle, and it sounds a tad fake, “You’re so weird, Alex,” You start, and he’s back in the call, a sound of confusion echoing in your ears, “but I get it, you know. You’re weird. You’re a weirdo. You don’t fit it, and you don’t want to fit in. I mean, really, has anyone even seen you without your stupid hat?”

“...Do--” He sputters, bellowing a laugh, “Do you have that whole fucking monologue memorized?!”

“Is it because you’re bald?”

“I’m not fucking bald!” His giddiness is quickly replaced by anger.

You hum, pretend to think, lastly barking a “Liar.” before you kill him. His scream is cut off, leaving only deafening silence at it’s wake. Unlike with Rae, you don’t stick around. You didn’t appreciate how little he enjoyed your recital.

You run into James near Navigation, most likely on his way to Cafeteria. He ends his song mid-note, and you breathe a sigh of relief, “Finally! Someone! I’ve been looking all over, where the hell is everyone?” You question, blocking his way, lest he accidentally stumbles onto the crime scene and easily pins it on you. You’re not done yet.

“Honestly? No clue. I’m searching for them myself, like, everyone’s scattered. I hope no one died.”

You smile. You tried not to, but you can’t contain it, “Me, too.” You echo the sentiment, urging him to join you, and he does. Too trusting. Everyone in this game is too fucking trusting. You lead him back to Nav, feigning that you have a task here. As you pretend to move the spaceship, you can’t help but ask, “Hey, James?”

“Yeah?”

“What’s your favorite scary movie?”

A beat of silence passes, “Oh no, fuck that, I don’t like this at all.” He states, about to spin on his heel and bolt like he should do, but you’re quicker-- killer instincts and all-- and he’s dead before he makes it out the doorway.

“See, after your No More Lies video, I figured you’d only tell the truth.” Yes, this is the part of the anime where the villain monologues, only the hero in this case is an astronaut cut in half, and not exactly alive to listen to you. You hope James’ ghost sticks around, “Case in point, why the fuck did you tell Quackity he’s tall?” You eye the chat, which’s mostly spamming W and comparing you to Ryo from Devilman Crybaby. “Such a shame...” You murmur, pressing the REPORT button.

“What?! How are so many people dead?!” Ash gasps, her kind voice tinted with fear and confusion. Your three kills, like military stars on an uniform of a distinguished officer, are displayed on the board. Dream appears to be slacking, having yet to take a life.

“Someone’s been real fucking busy.” Charlie observes. It’s true, you have been.

“I found James in Nav, but holy shit--” You begin, exasperated, “--what the fuck, guys, how did we miss this shit? Where is everyone?”

“I’m at Electrical.” Corpse voices.

“And I’m with Corpse.” One sentence is all it takes to figure out your next target: Bretman. Revenge for being killed first in the first goddamn round, and for spending so much time with your boyfriend.

Eep!!! Boyfriend boyfriend boyfriend!!! The word even makes you forget your thirst for blood, that’s how whipped you are. Sadly, it’s time to return to reality, to this grave situation.

“And what have the two of you been conspiring?” You keep your tone level, but that alone is enough to set everyone off. The unease you had planted within them before the game started is starting to bloom. However, if they suspect you, they don’t speak up, not yet.

“Fishnets, mostly.” Corpse says.

only partly a lie he was mostly talking abt u queen <3

corpse simping for y/n is the sweetest thing ever

the times corpse used y/ns name when talking abt y/n: 1. the times he used baby or my baby: infinite

“I’m wearing them right nyoooow.” Bretman drawls.

You hum, “What a coincidence. I am, too.”

“Wait--For real?” That seems to catch Corpse’s attention, because of course it does, you picked them with him in mind, after all.

“No peeping.” You tsk, obviously referring to his tendency to hop onto your stream unprompted. Whether he actually listens to your demands is beyond you, “Peeping means cheating.”

“For the love of fuck all, can we get back to the three dead bodies, please? Because I’m about to have a second coming of Christ moment and taste my consumed, digested beer for the second time.” Charlie interjects.

“I mean, anyone have any ideas who’d do this?” Dream takes hold of the conversation. Quiet, disappointed nos greet him. They have nothing to go on, no clues, not even a subliminal message. With everyone scattered, there is no way of locating the actual bodies and drawing a long red trail leading back to you.

You’re too good at lying, and Dream is too good of a publicist. People tend to trust his judgement, which is his main asset (besides his calm demeanor of course). When the Among Us gods chose you as Impostor, they made sure you had every advantage.

“Who-Who do you think it is, Dream?” Ash questions, “I trust you. I do. Just know that.”

“No fucking clue.”

“Y/n?” She tries again.

“Same. I’m a bit worried, though.”

“Let’s, uhhh, let’s skip?” Sykkuno offers. The consensus is to start voting at six. Your new mission is to make sure you dwindle the numbers down drastically before that can happen. You have no qualms about sacrificing Dream in order to meet your goals, either. Absolutely cold blooded.

Back at Cafeteria, there are words exchanged about Quackity’s body just laying there, forgotten. Blame is shifted: how come we didn’t notice sooner? Where’s Rae? And you mindlessly go along with their mourning, not really paying attention. Dream leaves with Charlie and Sykkuno, Corpse requests you stay with him and you sprout fake apologies. Not his time yet. Us girls need to stick together!, you sing, following after Ashley and getting further and further away from him, going deeper and deeper into the labyrinth of the spaceship.

You find yourself in Security with her, her cute astronaut pressed to the cameras, watching the live feed, “Let’s lurk here, okay? Maybe we’ll see something.” If only she saw who was standing behind her.

“Who do you think is the Impostor?” You ask, standing in the doorway, “Or, more like, who are the Impostors?”

“Honestly?” She ends her word with a little sigh, “I think it might be Corpse and Bretman. I haven’t seen them at all this game.”

You smile, raising your brows, tilting your heard, and you sound so kind, like a dear old friend about to deliver a tender message, “...Have you seen me?”

“SHIT!”

Too late. In one smooth motion she joins the afterlife. You cut the lights, venting mindlessly till you spot Corpse and Bretman panicking in Weapons. Your existence is still a mystery to them.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck--” Corpse mumbles, “Bretman, don’t you dare fucking kill me right now.”

“I’m not Impostor!”

“Okay, I’ll drink to that.”

They rush out of Weapons, most likely on their way to Electrical, and you trail after them like the Grim Reaper itself, biding your time till you can deliver the killing blow.

“Corpse?!” You call out, mild panic ringing in your voice, “Is that you?”

“Shit, Y/n? Where are you?” He questions. Crew vision is so sad, so small, how can he not see you standing almost right next to him? “Where’s Ash?”

“I dunno,” You say, “when the lights went out I ran. Please don’t kill me.”

“I’d never do that, baby.”

Too easy. They’re all too fucking easy. You bite your lower lip, trying to stop the laugh bubbling in your chest, to stop the lightheaded dizziness that overcomes you with a rush of excitement.

“Thanks, pretty boy.” You mutter, and it sounds a bit lower than you intended, a bit darker, something sinister lurking underneath cotton candy words. It instantly clicks in Bretman and he makes a noise, something like a whine, and you see him backing away, “I know I can always trust you.”

Whether Corpse notices the odd shift in tone, he doesn’t show it, “I like it when you call me that.” Is all he says, and you hear the smile in his voice, the appreciation. The trek to Electrical is all but forgotten. You slowly make your way to Bretman, “Where are you? Come here.”

“Just a minute,” You say cheerily, “I just need to kill Bret first.”

“Holy shit.”

“N-” Your victim’s sentence is cut off in a second, and you can’t contain your manic cackle this time, because the screen bleeds red, the words VICTORY splattered on it, depicting yours and Dream’s sneaky astronauts. You’re still laughing as the voices of your fallen friends ring in your ears.

“Y/n, what the fuck, you’re an actual monster.” Dream says, but there’s no actual weight behind his words, each syllable punctured with a laugh.

“I knew the second she asked me about my favorite scary movie that I’d get the chop.” James states.

“Wait, Y/n, did you kill everyone?” Corpse questions.

“She fucking did!” Dream answers for you, “I got Charlie and Sykkuno, and barely at that. What the fuck.”

“I’ve been waiting so fucking long for this.” You admit, giggling, raising you glass, “I toast to you, Dream. My perfect partner in crime.”

“I didn’t really do shit, but cheers.”

Quackity heaves a heavy sigh, “Y/n, Y/n, you don’t actually think I’m weird, right? Right?”

“No, she does.” James chimes.

“WHAT THE FUCK DID I EVER DO TO YOU, DUDE?!”

More commotion, more noise, and you just sit there, buzzed, snickering, reading the chat as the rest agree to play another round. You thank the people who donated that you had accidentally missed among the, you know, murder, reply to a few questions, bow dramatically to the many praises and invisible flowers you receive for such beautiful assassin work. When you look back at the screen, you throw your head back with a maniacal laugh.

Impostor again, only this time it’s with Charlie. Family bonds are often restored when united under a common goal. You’re so happy. So happy. You weren’t done terrorizing your friends yet.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

tags (in italics is those i couldn’t tag! make sure all’s ok w your settings!) : @littlebabysandboxburritos - @fairywriter-oracle - @tsukishimawh0re - @ofstarsanddreams - @bbecc-a - @annshit - @leahh19 - @letsloveimagines - @bellomi-clarke - @wineandionysus - @guiltydols - @onephootinfrontoftheother - @liamakorn - @thirstyfangirl - @lilysdaydreams - @pan-ini - @mxqicshxp - @tanchosanke - @yoshinorecommends - @flightsandfantasy - @liljennyx3 - @bingusmode - @unknown-and-invisible - @sinister-sleep - @fivedicksinatrenchcoat - @mercury–moon - @peterparkerspjsuit - @unstableye - @simonsbluee - @shinyshimaagain - @ppopty - @siriuslystupid - @crapimahuman - @ofthedewthesunlight - @mythicalamphitrite - @artsyally - @corpsesimpp - @corpsewhitetee - @corpse-husbandsimp - @hyp-oh-critical - @roses-and-grasses - @rhyrhy462 - @sparklylandflaplawyer - @charbkgo - @airwaveee - @creativedogs - @kaitlyn2907 - @loxbbg - @afuckingunicornn - @fleurmoon - @yeolliedokai

more tags are in the comments bcs tumblr only allows me to tag 50 people max 💙

#corpse husband #corpse #corpse husband x reader #corpse x reader #corpse social media au #corpse husband x y/n #corpse husband fic #corpse husband social media au #social media au #myso #make you say oh #quackity #dream smp #corpse x y/n #imagine #imagines #reader #xreader

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raineydays411 · 3 years

Text

Trauma really does bond

The umbrella academy x teen!reader

Summary: It’s time for you to meet your siblings. But what happen when your introductions don’t exactly go as planned?

You were trembling as you walked behind Pogo and Grace. Its ironic, you’ve waited your whole life for this moment. To finally meet your siblings and expand your family. A childish hope of your siblings one day returning to the mansion and accepting you with open arms.

But now that you actually have a chance to meet them, you’re terrified. You realized that you have no idea how to talk to people. It’s different than when you talk to Pogo or your mother. These are complete strangers. No matter how many stories you’ve been told, how many times you read Vanyas book, you truly didn’t know these people. How were you meant to be a family? How are you supposed to-

“Y/n? Dear?”

You’re snapped from your thoughts by your mother calling you.

“Yes, momma?”

“Momma? Pogo, who’s that?”

You turn, again surprised by an unfamiliar voice. There she was. Alison Hargreeves. She’s beautiful.

Her hair is curly and blonde, with beautiful high cheekbones and glowing brown skin. Her as were kind even as she squinted at you skeptically in confusion.

“Alison, this is Y/n Hargreeves, or Number Eight. She’s your sister.”

Grace again gives you a light nudge, and you move in front of her. It was then that you realized that you are shorter than Alison, having to glance up to meet her eyes.

“My sister?” She looks at you in disbelief, “How come we didn’t know? This wasn’t mentioned by the press or anything...”

“Your father decided to keep our dear Y/n a secret.” Grace said wrapping her arm around you, “ She’s been our little secret for 17 years and 4 months.”

“A secret? But why? I mean, what was the reason?”

“Your father, believed that the world wasn’t ready for a new superhero. Nor was Y/n ready to face the world.” Pogo said with a grim face, “ He had hoped though, that one day he would be able to take her out...but it seems that for now, Y/n shall remain inside.”

You frowned, holding back tears at the thought. You didn’t know that your father had wanted to let you out, nor that he wanted to be there when you were. But, what truly upset you, was that you had to stay in the mansion. Freedom was at the tip of your fingers and you didn’t even know it.

“Stay inside? You mean she’s never been outside?” Alison said horrified.

“Well she has been out in the courtyard and such, but Mr. Hargreeves prohibited her to leave the premises. Nor was she allowed to be in contact with the citizens”

“She’s been here all alone?” Alison asks sadly, “ With no one to talk to? No one her age?”

“I’m afraid not” Pogo says sadly, looking at you.

You didn’t understand the big deal. Of course you were lonely, and wanted to explore the world, but you knew why you had to stay. You can just hear your fathers words.

“You have a duty Number Eight. A duty to your people and to me. It may not be ideal but sacrifices are hardly ideal.”

And everytime you thought about leaving, you’d remember his words and stay put. Besides you wouldn’t dare disobey your father.

Not after the last time.

“Well,” Alison says gently, leaning down to your eye level, “ Hello Y/n, I’m Alison Hargreeves, your big sister.”

Your eyes widened at her words as your heart filled with joy. For so many years you imagined those words. You wondered how this whole thing would play out, how meeting your siblings might be. And to hear Alison so readily accept you, it brought tears to your eyes.

“Hello, Alison” You say beaming as you carefully step forward, “ I’ve been waiting a long time to meet you, Momma says you live in California, what is it like?”

Alison smiles at your question, your demeanor like a small child. It reminded her of Claire...

“It’s very nice, maybe when we have time I’ll be able to tell you all about it.”

Your smile widens as you turn to your mother excitedly, she smiles back and says, “ That sounds wonderful dear, but you should go and change. You know the rules. You don’t want your father finding you in your night clothes, now would you?”

You furrow your brows,” Momma...”

“No buts now march” She says with a grin. You smile at Alison but see the worried look on her face.

“So she did notice how weird momma acting” You think to yourself. You stay in a daze as you walk towards your room. Worrying about your mother, grieving your father, and thinking about how you’re finally meeting all your siblings. Then as you turn a corner into the hallway that leads to your room, you’re knocked to the ground as you bump into a wall of a body.

“Ow!” you squeal as you hit the ground, rubbing the back of your head and peering up at the person you bumped into.

“Uh..sorry Y/n”

“Luther!” You shout, your pain overridden by the happiness you felt at seeing your brother, one that actually knows you exist.

He helps you up, which to him is like picking up a feather, and before he knew it, your arms are wrapped around his midsection. Luther awkwardly pats your back, not really expecting to be hugged.

“It's great to see you Luther! I read all your mission reports, or rather the ones that Father let me read. I always wished you good night though! Pogo always caught me looking at the moon with that telescope, I hope you don’t mind that I used it. It's just that I missed you so-” Your happy ramblings cut off by a Luther clearing his throat.

“Ahem...right, um hey Y/n, I gotta go...check on something.” He says gently pushing you away, “It was nice seeing you though.”

And with that he walks away, leaving you in the hallway as you stare at his retreating form.

“oh...okay then! I’ll see...see you later.” You say, disheartened by his brief acknowledgement. You sigh, walking into your room.

“I don’t know why I try...” You mumble to yourself. “ It’s not like he was ever happy to see me before.”

You go into your closet, trying to figure out what to wear. Usually, Grace picked out your outfits, ordered by your father, but she didn’t leave anything out for you today. So, you settled for a black turtleneck sweater, a black and white plaid skirt, black knee high socks with some mary janes. It wasn’t really your go to look, but you felt like it was appropriate given the circumstance. You let your hair loose, curls falling into your face as you let it out of the bun you quickly put it in.

You go to walk out of the room when you’re stopped by a gleam. You see the necklace your father gave to you after the incident. You stare at it, debating on whether you should put it on or not. You sigh, deciding to wear it, it was his funeral after all. You put it on, the cold metal never truly seem to heat up, the pendant heavy on your chest. You never grew attached to it. It just served as a reminder that you’re stuck in the mansion. You can never leave. Not until he let you and now...

You shake your head. Trying not to get into your thoughts, that's when you heard it. Little scratching at your window. You turn to see Despereaux, the little mouse you saved when you were younger. Ever since that day it was like you and him formed a bond.

You open the window excited to see your little friend.

“Hello Despereaux, it’s been a while since I’ve seen you.” You whisper as you let him climb on to your shoulder. “ you’ve missed quite a bit since I’ve last seen you. How about some cheese?”

You walk out of your room, Despereaux nestled on your shoulder. As you walk through the long hallways, you bump into another body.

“Ouch, again?” You whisper to yourself, rubbing your forehead.

“Hey watch it...teenage girl?” A male voice said in a perplexed tone.

You look up to see a man in some rather tight clothes and kohl ringed eyes.

“Hello” You quietly mutter with a soft smile. “I’m Y/n”

“You are adorable.” The man says, “ Where has the old man been hiding you?”

You blush looking down at your feet, you were never really complimented. Only by Grace.

“ Aww” The man squeals, squishing you to his body. He smelled like booze and sweat but the hug was nice, “ I have no idea who you are but I’m your uncle Klaus from now on.”

“You’re Klaus?” You say excitedly, “ I’m so glad to meet you!”

You wrap your arms around him, feeling the outline of something hard and metal in the back of his pants. You ignored it though, happy to meet another one of your siblings.

“Ugh it’s so nice to be around someone who isn’t a total stick in the mud.” Klaus says letting go of you, “ Like Luther, all that rage in that big body”

You giggle at his words and eccentric behavior. It was a stark contrast to the ridgid stoic behavior that you’re used to. Klaus’ grand gestures and silly nature was new to you.

“I’ve heard alot about you.” You say happily, “ Mama always tells me stories about how you used to steal her shoes and skirts and Father said--”

“Father?” Klaus asked, “ You mean ol’ Reggie bought you too? Or are you like..his offspring? Eww! I don’t want to think about that, shut up Ben.”

Ben?

“Father adopted me, I was born with powers like you.” You clarify for him.

“Huh, so he managed to create another trauma case before he croaked.” Klaus said in a light voice, “Well. I always wanted a little sister.”

You smile, glad that at least two of your siblings liked you. But what did he mean by trauma case.

“Anywho, I have some... inheritance I need to collect. I, will see you at the funeral, das Kind”

And with a wiggle of his fingers he was off, gone as quick as when you met him. Leaving you yet again, alone. You shrug off his odd behavior when you heard two voices speaking.

“ah no, not to my knowledge.”

“But..the spine is broken and there's notes in the margins.”

“ Yes, that would be the work of.. ah Y/n, there you are.”

You jump in surprise, although you should’ve know. You can never eavesdrop with Pogo around.

You walk down the stairs, slowly towards Pogo and.. Vanya!

Out of all the siblings, she’s the one you wanted to meet the most. She, like you was isolated in this mansion. You felt a connection to her as soon as you were able to pick up that book. Your heart raced as you made it to the final step, reaching the first flower and into the living room where Vanya and Pogo were talking. You can see that she is shocked, as all your other siblings were.

“Pogo, who is this?”

“Go ahead dear, introduce yourself. Just like you practiced.”

You smile widely, “Hi I’m Y/n Hargreeves, I love your book. I’ve read it almost five times now. You’re Vanya! I’ve been waiting to meet you! You look exactly like the picture on the back of the book! It really is a good book, I-”

“Y/n, take a breath. Let her get a word in.” Pogo chuckled, glad to see that you’re comfortable around Vanya.

“Oh, right. I’m sorry, father did always say I..tend to talk to much” You say looking down at your shoes. You didn’t notice the frown on both Pogo and Vanyas face.

“You...you read my book?” Vanya asked, still trying to figure out who you are.

“Yes, multiple times. It...well, besides the stories Mama and Pogo told me, this was the only way I got to know all of you.”

“Why didn’t you just come find us?”

“Oh well..I wasn’t really allowed outside”, you say glancing at Pogo, “ Father said the world and I weren’t ready for each other.”

“You mean, you’ve been alone...all these year?”

“No, not totally alone! I had Pogo, and Mama, and and father too. Plus there were the robots he built, although I did destroy them...and the books and and..”

“Y/n...that’s..that’s not..” Vanya stopped herself. She knew that this must be a sensitive subject for you. The way you listed everyone in your life was practiced. Like you’ve said it to yourself over and over again. And by the grim look on Pogos face, she can tell it wasn’t only you who was sensitive about this subject.

“Well, Y/n..perhaps you should go on in the kitchen and help your mother. Your siblings will be meeting here shortly, it would be nice if they had some snacks, don’t you agree?” Pogo says, forcing a smile at you.

“Oh! Okay” You beam, “ It was nice meeting you Vanya!”

And with that you scurry off into the kitchen, leaving Vanya and Pogo behind in silence.

“She’s been alone for...”

“For seventeen years. Yes”

“Pogo...”

“You know your father...once he made up his mind...there was little I can do.”

Vanya sighs and pats Pogo on the shoulder, “It’s good to see you Pogo.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You skip into the kitchen, seeing your mother humming at the sink. You walk up to her and notice that she’s cleaning the same plate over and over again.

“Hi momma!” you say suddenly

“Oh, hello dear. What are you doing in here?” Grace asks putting the plate in the drying rack.

Pogo said it would be nice to make snacks for my siblings” You ask, then feeling movement around your neck, “Oh and some cheese please.”

You forgot Despereaux was on your shoulder, its a wonder that no one has seen him yet.

“hmm snacks we can do.” Grace says with a smile. She goes to the fridge and pulls out some cheese.

“How about some cheese and crackers? Its simple.” she says, “ ans Despereaux here can have his fill as well”

You freeze, caught again by your mother, “ Thanks momma.”

You both giggle, and side by side you work on cutting the cheese and presenting the crackers. You feel a sense of calm wash over you. You usually do when you’re around your mother. She makes you feel safe.

“Ahem.”

You both turn to see Diego in the kitchen doorway.

“Diego dear, you startled us.” Grace said with a smile, “ Come help, we’re making you kids some snacks.”

He barely spares a glance at you.

“Pogo wanted me to come tell you that the meetings starting.”

“Oh, well go on darling, run along and I’ll bring out the snacks later.”

And with that she kisses your forehead and waves you away. She turns back to the sink and starts humming again.

You glance back at Diego. He’s glaring at the wall and to be honest you’re surprised he even waited for you. You pick up Despereaux and put him on your shoulder again, and grab some grapes and cheese then stuff it in your skirt pocket. Then you walk up to Diego with a small smile.

He glances at you and scoffs, then walks away. You have to jog to catch up to him.

“You uh, you walk pretty fast” You say huffing a bit.

He doesn’t answer you, he just keeps walking in the same pace. You stay silent as well, the trip to the living room longer than you remember.

You finally make it, and you see all your siblings in the room, spread out. You take a seat next to Vanya. You smile at her and take a glance around the room. Luther is sat at the couch across from you and Vanya. Allison and Diego are sat on some chairs, and Klaus is at the bar.

The six of you sit in an awkward silence until Luther clears his throat.

“ So I guess we should get this started.” He says standing up, “ So I figured we can have sort of a memorial service. At the courtyard at sundown, say a few words. At dad’s favorite spot.”

You nod along and hear Alison speak up, “ Dad had a favorite spot?”

“Yeh at the oak tree, we used to sit out there all the time. None of you did that?” Luther asks.

“Oh yeah, after training” you chime in, causing the adults to look at you. You heard Diego scoff again and saw Luther quickly furrow his brow then smooth out his face again.

“Will there be refreshments?” Klaus asks walking out from behind the bar, “ Tea? Scones? Cucumber sandwiches are always a winner.”

He goes to take a seat next to you when Luther speaks up

“What? No, and put that out. You know dad didn’t allow smoking in here.”

You roll your eyes. If you had to choose one thing to hate about Luther, you’d choose his insistent need to always be on your Father's good side. He can be such a downer sometimes.

“Is that my skirt?”

You hadn’t even noticed Klaus in the skirt. If you had to be honest, it did really suit him. You let out a small laugh, hearing Klaus mention his “bits”.

“Listen up.”

Oh boy, you’ve heard this tone before. You really forgot how stern Luther could be.

“There’s still some important things that we need to discuss alright ?”

“Um Luther” you squeak out, “ what more is there to talk about? Its not like Father had many friends we can invite. And his only family is us...”

“Yeah. The kids right, what else is there to discuss?” Diego asks.

You turn to him in surprise, this is basically the first time he acknowledged you unprompted. You send him a smile that, as expected, he ignores.

Oh well, small steps.

“ The way he died.”

“ And here we go”

You scrunch your eyebrows, “the way he died?”

Klaus sits next to you, throwing an arm around your shoulder as Vanya speaks up,

“I don’t understand, I thought they said it was a heart attack...”

“A heart attack?” You ask, realizing that no one’s really did tell you how your father died..

You’re question gained a suspicious look from Luther and confusion from the rest.

“ Y/n...you didn’t know?” Alison asked gently.

“ no one told me...” You say quietly, feeling nervous from the sudden attention.

“Well, According or to the coroner it was.” Luther continues.

“Well wouldn’t they know?”

“Theoretically..”

“Theoretically??”

You don’t understand. You don’t understand why nobody told you how your father died. You don’t understand why everyone was acting weird. And you don’t understand why Luther was bringing this up.

You feel a hand on your forearm, breaking you from your thoughts. You turn your head to see Klaus.

“ you lost in space?” He whispers playfully, “ I would be too, having to listen to Detective Daddy issues over here.”

You let out a small chuckle and whisper back, “ well technically we all have daddy issues.”

This earned you a quiet laugh and a pat on the arm. Then Klaus went to drink whatever was in his cup. And you tuned in again.

“ i’m just saying at the very least something happened. ” Luther says looking around the room, “ The last time I talk to dad he sounded strange.”

“Oh quelle surprise!” Klaus gurgles through his drink.

The rest of the adult ignored him, only sparing him a quick glance.

“Strange how?” Alison asked, continuing the conversation.

“ he sounded on edge”, Luther said, “ told me to be careful who to trust.”

He then gave you pointed look. You looked back at him perplexed, not knowing why he looked at you that way.

“Luther,” Diego chimed in, “ he was a paranoid, bitter old man who was starting to lose what was left of his marbles. ”

You frown at that statement. Sure your father was old and sort of eccentric, but his mind was sharp.

But come to think of it he was acting really weird the week before he died. He started telling you more about your siblings, about your place in the world and how you were meant to help it. He spent more time with you more than he ever has your whole life. He was, in his own way, nicer to you. Nicer in training, nicer on your free time, nicer in general. He took you out to the old oak tree more often, and just sat there with you, no lectures, no tirades, he just sat in silence.

It was almost like... like he knew he was going to die.

“I can’t just call dad in the afterlife and be like, “ hey dad can you stop playing tennis with Hitler really quick and take a quick call?’” Klaus says exasperatedly.

Oh right you forgot, he can talk to ghosts.

“ since when? that’s your thing.” Luther asks

“ i’m not in the right... Frame of mind!!”

“ You’re high?” Alison asks

“Yeah!” Klaus laughs, “ Who wouldn’t be listening to this nonsense. Right kiddo?”

He nudged you gently look at you for confirmation.

Your eyes widen and before you can even answer Diego cut you off,

“ Don’t bring her in this, she probably isn’t even know what being high is.”

You most certainly do. You’re not a child.

“ Look, just sober up this is important!” Luther demands , then continues on, “ and then there’s the missing monocle.”

“Who gives a shit about the missing monocle?” Diego mutters.

“ Father is missing his monocle?” You ask, getting ignored again.

“Exactly, it’s worthless.” Luther states, “ so whoever took it it must’ve been personal.”

The group starts to actually pay attention to him

“ Someone close to him, someone with a grudge.” He determines.

Wait...he’s not implying..

“Where are you going with this?” Klaus asks

“Oh, isn’t obvious Klaus?” Diego taunts, “ He thinks one of us killed dad.”

Luther grunts, but doesn’t deny his accusation.

The room goes silent as everyone tries to come to terms with what was revealed.

“ Luther...” you start sadly, feeling hurt and betrayed.

“You do?” Klaus asks in disbelief

“How could you think that?” Vanya chimes in

“ is it really that far-fetched?” Luther defends himself, “ I mean, it’s not secret how much you all hate him.”

“Luther.” Alison says sternly

“ That’s not fair accusation, there’s no evidence or anything...” you say defending your siblings, “ Besides, no one came home until today. Trust me, I’d know.”

But that just turned him on you

“ And where were you when he died?”

Your breath hitched, “ what?”

“ You’re the one who can heal people right? So where were you? Why didn’t you heal him?” He demands, “ Or did you let him die?”

“ Luther!” Alison shouts at him

You stay silent as you can’t think of anything to say. You already felt horrible about not being able to save your father. But yo hear it from Luther...

“I..” you start to say but get choked up. You feel the walls close up around you and the heavy gaze of these adults. You quickly stand up and run out of the room sniffing.

It was then that Luther realized what he just accused you of.

“Y/n wait..” he starts but you’re already gone by the time he spoke up. He turns to the rest of his siblings, facing their glares and betrayed looks.

“ Great job Luther.” Diego says sarcastically, “ Way to lead.”

And with that he walks out the room.

“That’s..that’s not what I’m saying”

“You’re crazy man. You’re crazy.” Klaus said getting up from his spot and grabbing his things. “Crazy”

“I..I wasn’t finished”

“ Okay, sorry I’m just gonna go get Y/n and have her help me murder mom.” Klaus sneers, “ You know, after I get her to stop crying, be right back.”

“That’s not what I was saying!” Luther says, “ I didn’t—“ he cuts himself off, seeing as everyone but Alison left.

Then she gets up to leave, but says this

“ That little girl has had it rough enough growing up here, she doesn’t need anymore from you.”

Then she walks out ignoring what Luther tries to say.

Leaving him all alone.

“That went well.”

#the umbrella academy x reader #the umbrella academy #klaus hargreeves x reader #diego hargreeves x reader #alison hargreeves x reader #vanya hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves x reader #luther hargeeves x r #klaus hargreeves #five hargreeves #comics #netflix

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hanoella · 3 years

Text

Deserving

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x healer!Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Summary: When someone bad mouths Bucky in your presence, you set things straight.

Warnings: Angst, but with happy ending, and one vaguely 18+ insult? I'm new.

Speaking of- @wkemeup has inspired me to post my writing for the first time! For their 9k writing challenge, I used this prompt:

"Character A is the target of harassment on the street. Shamed, they pretend it doesn’t bother them. Until it happens in the presence of Character B, who reigns hell on whoever dared to upset [A]"

Enjoy!

..........

Bucky was used to the whispers he got from people the street when he passed by them.

“Is that-?”

“Don’t make eye contact, he’s dangerous.”

“They just let him walk around like he hasn’t killed a bunch of people?”

His enhanced hearing picked up more than he wished it did. He liked to believe it didn’t bother him but deep down it did. It was just one more reason to stay secluded. Isolated. Alone. And he had been successfully doing that.

Until you came along.

Having been the test subject of a super serum version that focused on health and regeneration, you used your healing powers to help the Avengers get back to world-saving shape. Bucky hadn’t been keen on anyone touching him, much less someone he didn’t know. Despite his best efforts, he had caved in when you noticed he was having a bad day with his shoulder and offered to help. Since then, your companionship has been like a guilty pleasure.

You had this way of making him feel like he was the most important person in the world to you. Regardless of what he thought was evident, you only seemed to notice the good in him, even when he protested.

“There’s nothing I can do to right the wrongs that I’ve committed. Redemption isn’t possible. I don’t deserve-”

“Stop.” You said, cutting him off. “You are amazing. You have been through everything that you’ve been through and you still give back to the world. You fight for a world that made you this way, a world that gives you nothing back and yet you fight. It’s the world that doesn’t deserve you.”

Bucky swallowed hard. Looking at you in your eyes, he saw no dishonesty. Only pure admiration.

After that, there was no hope of him being alone. You cracked open his shell slowly but surely and now Bucky couldn’t imagine life without you.

Which led him to his current predicament.

“Come on, please? It’ll be so good and only a few blocks away. I know tapioca sounds gross, but you’ll love it!”

Bucky didn’t know what bubble tea was but apparently it was worth begging him for the past 20 minutes while you worked on his shoulder. Your hands emitted a warm white light as you gently massaged his shoulder. The direct contact wasn’t necessary but Bucky hadn’t complained when you started doing it and it’s become routine every since.

“I don’t know. I know I’m old but I don’t have to resort to tapioca yet.”

Bucky let a moment pass before his lip twitched up into a smile. You feigned annoyance as you cut off the healing and placed your hands on his shoulders.

“How about you go with me and I won’t bill the heck out of you for my magical five-star massages.” You say as you squeeze his shoulders.

“Okay okay, fine.”

Bucky put his hands up in defeat as he got up from the couch he was sitting on and turned to face you.

You swallowed as you let your eyes drift across his chest before you grabbed his shirt from off the back of the couch and tossed it to him.

“Alright! I’m so excited!”

Bucky listened to you chatter on about the different flavors he could try while he put on his shirt. Sometimes, he couldn’t believe he actually had a friend besides Steve. Sure, it helped that you had been Steve’s friend first. But there was something about you having grown closer to him that made him feel special. Never did Bucky think there would be a time that he’d be jealous over a girl that Steve was friends with rather than the other way around. Times were certainly different.

“You coming?”

Bucky broke away from his thoughts and made his way towards the doorway that you were standing in.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

---

Yeah, he knew this was a bad idea.

As soon as you two had left Stark Tower, the whispers started. While the café was only two blocks away, you noticed something was off a block into the trip.

“You alright?” You asked as you tried to decipher his facial expression.

“Yeah. Fine.”

You looked at him skeptically and then shifted your eyes to follow his, glancing around you. You slowly nodded in understanding as you looked at the people around you who were trying not to draw attention to themselves.

“Okay. We can talk about it later.”

Bucky was thankful that most people talked quietly enough so that you couldn’t hear what they were saying.

Keyword: Most.

You two arrived at the café, where it was slightly crowded. It was a warm afternoon, the perfect time to get a cool drink. Before heading inside, you gently placed your hand on his arm for a moment to reassure him.

“If you want, we could look at the menu out here and then I’ll go inside to order it.”

Bucky shifted his weight slightly from one side to the other as he contemplated it.

“Nah. We can go in together.”

“Okay.” you said, gently smiling to hopefully reassure him.

You both enter the building and make your way to stand in line. Bucky looked around at the seating areas. It reminded him of a Starbucks but with a more pastel color scheme. You looked at him and he raised an eyebrow in response. You smiled, happy that he was with you. Bucky’s heart skipped a beat and he smiled back.

That’s when you hear it.

“Is that that Hydra goon? Hey, go back to Siberia you brainwashed Hydra dog!”

You spun around violently the same time Bucky did with an incredulous look on your face, making eye contact with the college aged boy further back in line who was currently sniggering with his friends.

You stalked over to them before speaking in a low even tone.

“Sergeant Barnes has done more for the world than you could ever dream of doing. Apologize.”

You had let the venom creep into your voice, shouting the last word and silencing the rest of the line. Bucky walked up to you and put a hand on your shoulder, trying to turn your attention to him.

“C’mon. It’s not worth it.”

You let out a slow harsh exhale from your nose but didn’t move. The man only sneered.

“Why don’t you scurry along. I don’t care if you’re where he sticks his-”

The next thing Bucky registered was a nasty sounding crack as your fist connected with the jerk’s cheekbone. A round of gasps came from the surrounding crowd as he fell on the floor, completely dazed. You let out a pained grunt as you bent over, holding your hand while trying to cover the white light that started coming over your hand where the skin had bust open and something had definitely cracked.

“Okay, time to go.” Bucky said as he made an executive decision to get you two the heck out of there before anybody could react further. He put his hand on your back and quickly guided you out of the store, walking until you were out of the vicinity and almost back to the tower. You could tell that Bucky was not happy with you since he hadn’t said anything the whole way back. You entered the building and then stood silently in the elevator as it made its way up, refusing to meet his eye.

The elevator dinged as it opened up on the team’s dorm floor. You both walked quickly trying to avoid other people unsuccessfully as Sam stepped out into the hallway from the gym.

“Hey you two, what’re you… What happened to you?” He asked with a furrowed brow, nodding his head towards your hand as you walked past. Bucky and you answered at the same time.

“Nothing-”

“None of your business Sam-”

You gave Bucky a look and started chastising him.

“Hey, don’t be mean to him just because-”

“Keep. Walking.” He said through clenched teeth.

You rolled you eyes and shrugged apologetically at Sam as Bucky punched in the code to your apartment and swung the door open. He nudged you inside and then followed, shutting the door forcefully behind him.

Sam looked down the hall for a moment longer before shrugging it off. Natasha popped her head out into the hallway from the gym.

“What’s all the commotion?”

“Not sure. I think Mr. Tall, Dark and Metal left a few brain cells behind in the pod the last time he was frozen.”

Natasha snorted and then turned back into the gym.

---

Bucky closed the door behind him and then swung his arms out in confusion, giving you the same look of disbelief that he gives Yori when he starts a fight with his neighbors. You gave him the same look back, as if he was crazy for questioning your actions.

“What was that?” He finally asked.

“That guy was crazy! How could I not say something to him?”

“You didn’t have to hit him and hurt yourself! People say stuff like that all the time, you just have to ignore it and move on with your day.”

You stayed silent for a moment, averting your gaze and holding your injured hand that was gently glowing. Bucky gently let out his breath. He closed the distance between you and put his hand under yours to help you support it. His other hand grasped your forearm, gently moving over your smooth skin. He glanced down and watched as the inflammation went away and a bone shifted back into place under your skin.

“Please,” He whispered, his hold on you tightening ever so slightly. “It’s not worth all the trouble. It’s not worth you getting hurt.”

“No.”

Bucky snapped his head back up to see you calm and determined. Speaking again, you look into his eyes.

“It is worth it.”

He blinked twice, not having expected that answer.

“Why?”

“Because if I had let him say what he was going to say. Then to me, it would be validating anyone who has ever said anything like that about you. I can’t let you believe that any of that is true.”

“I don’t believe it.”

“But you do.” You cried out, slipping your newly healed hand out of his grasp and stepping away.

“I can see it in your actions, Bucky. I see it when you deny yourself anything that would make you happy. I see it when you try to hide yourself from the world. I see it when you look at me.” You spoke, voice wavering with the last sentence, averting your gaze again. Bucky stood silent as you continued.

“I see a deep sadness in your eyes. I can feel it in your soul when I heal your shoulder. Or when you touch my hand to see if I’ve fallen asleep. I can feel it emanating off of you. But I know for a fact that you deserve to be happy. You deserve to rest and to be happy. How many times have you fought a fight that wasn’t yours because it was the right thing to do? And don’t say it was to redeem yourself because I know it’s more than that. You are a good man, James. You don’t need to prove anything to anyone. But if you need to prove it to yourself than just take a look at me.”

You gently hold his face and guide it so that he’s looking at you. He’s surprised to find your eyes full of tears, threatening to spill over.

“When you look into my eyes, there is nothing but love and admiration for you. When you touch me, I feel the warmth you leave on my skin. When you hear me speak, you should be able to tell from what I say that I genuinely think you deserve the world. When you are hurting, the only thing I feel is your anguish. It kills me, to see you punish yourself so undeservedly.”

You were whispering now, looking up at him. Bucky’s eyes were watering as well, his jaw clenched in an attempt to hold back his emotions. With your hands still gently caressing his cheeks he slowly lowered his head so that his forehead was resting on yours, swallowing hard.

Bucky lifted his head slightly so that he could look at you and he saw nothing but love. Your eyelashes were wet and shimmering from tears you shed for him. Your cheeks were flushed from the overwhelming feeling that you had for him. He looked into the depths of your eyes and saw only his future with you. Finally, his gaze settles on your lips, soft and supple.

“Please,” you begged. “Please do not ask me to stand idly by as the world tears you apart. You are worth more to me than anything else in it.”

Slowly, his hands touch your waist and slide back until he’s holding you against him. Closing the gap between you, you kiss.

Nothing more in this world could assure him of your love. For once, he believes it.

#kas9kwc #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #fatws #bucky x y/n #bucky imagine

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queen-yalo · 2 years

Text

The Avengers | The Lucky And The Strong [#2: Beginning] | Bucky Barnes x reader

A/N: If you want to get tagged, let me know. :) Hope you enjoy! ♥

Pairing(s): James Buchanan 'Bucky' Barnes x fem!reader; kinda adopted dad!Tony Stark x reader

Genre: Soulmate AU

Warnings: None.

Words: 1.0k

Chapters: [#1] | #2 | [#3] | [#4] | [#5]

Tags: @musicgirl44 @angstysebfan

•

“And you’re sure this will help me to blend in?” You asked Shuri and Steve, slowly turning in front of the mirror. Shuri had provided you with the finest 40s dress she could get her hands on – and it was beautiful.

Steve nodded, smiling at you through the mirror. “You look gorgeous. Nobody will suspect a thing.” He said, handing you the purse with all the necessary equipment, obviously a perfect match to your dress. You giggled, giving yourself a last once-over in the mirror – only to meet Bucky’s steel blue eyes in them.

A small shiver went through your body as he smiled in appreciation. Why did it matter to you what he thought? You weren’t his soulmate. He was being nice, no more and no less.

“Steve’s right, you look beautiful, doll.” He smiled. You felt heat creeping over your skin. Doll? How dare he? Why was he playing with your feelings and your sanity?

You smiled back quickly and averted your gaze. There was no need to show more feelings than necessary. With a quiet sigh you stepped away from the mirror. It was time to begin your mission. “I’m ready.” You announced, making your way to the workshop.

The time-machine was taking up most of the room, but it was worth it. After days of blood, sweat, tears and determination it was completed – and working, which was, without a doubt, the most important thing.

“I hope this suit won’t ruin the dress. That would be a pity.” You said as Tony helped you up the platform. He glared at you playfully. “Are you doubting my genius?” He asked, gasping dramatically. “I would never, Mr. Stark.” You grinned, bowing at him.

“I’ll miss you.” You smiled sadly. For Tony, you would only be gone for about a minute, but for you it would be hours at best, weeks at worst. “There’s no way to contact you, is there?”

Tony shook his head. “No, Pumpkin. Even if it were physically possible, it would be too dangerous for you. Nobody must know who you are or where you’re from. Remember that!” He said, fixing you with his gaze. He and Shuri had told you a million times during the past days. You nodded at his words. “I know. No telling anybody, no changing the timeline and killing people from our century. Got it.”

“I can’t believe you’re going on your first solo mission, I’m not ready for that.” Natasha said. Everybody who knew about the mission had gathered around the machine, excited and anxious about your endeavor. “Remember, kick them in the soft bits.” She grinned, earning a small laugh from you.

Natasha had trained you ever since Tony took you under his wings. You weren’t nearly as strong or fast as Natasha was, but you could very well defend yourself, which was useful. In reality though, you hoped that you would never have to actually use that kind of knowledge or skill.

“Alright…” You said, taking a deep breath and nodding at Tony. “Let’s do this.”

The machine whirred loudly, the GPS-device around your wrist beeping, demanding action. “23rd of May 1943.” You mumbled, Tony confirming the date once again. He hesitated to activate the machine. He wasn’t ready to let you go. What if something went wrong? What if-

“Don’t worry, Tony.” You smiled at him. “I can do this.”

He gulped thickly. “Good luck, Pumpkin.” He whispered, opening the Quantum Tunnel for you. “See you in a minute.”

New York City, 1943.

You gasped for air when you arrived at your destination. You made it.

The suit dissolved into nothing when you deactivated the GPS-device, leaving you in the dress Shuri picked out for you.

The alley you arrived at was filthy to say the least, garbage and things you’d rather not think about covering the ground. Carefully, you made your way out of there, aiming for a street with more people on it. You needed to know where exactly you were, and where you needed to go.

Rockaway Parkway. You were in Brooklyn. Not exactly where you needed to be, but very close at least. Making your way through the people and streets, you tried to find some sort of public transportation – until you realized that you couldn’t even buy a ticket. You had everything, but no money.

You sighed. Brooklyn Heights was roughly two hours away by foot. But there was no alternative. You thought about how you could get your hands on a little money, you’d need some resources after all. And just as you thought about where you’d spend your nights, your thoughts were violently interrupted by the wall you just ran into.

“Ooof-“ You breathed, only moments later realizing that it wasn’t a wall. It was a person.

“I’m sorry, Miss…”

You froze when you heard the person’s voice, immediately recognizing it.

“Oh my god…”

“You are who?”

Bucky laughed when Steve shoved his shoulder, unable to fight off a grin himself. Ever since the two talked about their soulmate tattoos, Bucky teased Steve about it, greeting him with these dreaded words all the time.

Not that Steve minded. He was lucky enough to have a soulmate, somewhere out in this big world. Besides, he was very eager with teasing Bucky as well.

“And your eyes are still so beautiful.” Steve smirked, earning a playful wink from his best friend. The two men laughed as they made their way to Rockaway Beach, like they did every Sunday for the few weeks. Even during times of war, they allowed themselves to relax and have fun – as much as possible at least.

“So, you… enlisted in the army?” Steve asked, kicking a small pebble away with his foot. Bucky stayed silent for a moment. He nodded and carefully looked over at his friend. “Look, I know you want to-“

Bucky was cut off as he bumped into someone. “I’m sorry, Miss…” He mumbled, holding her shoulders to keep her from falling. “I didn’t-“

“Oh my god…” She mumbled, looking up at him slowly. The shock on her face melted into something different. Something soft and warm, as if she’d see something in him that nobody else did.

“Your eyes… are still so beautiful.”

#bucky #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #james buchanan bucky barnes #james bucky barnes #james barnes #james buchanan barnes #james barnes x reader #james buchanan barnes x reader #the avengers #avengers #bucky imagine #avengers imagine #the falcon and the winter soldier #x reader #bucky barnes soulmate au #soulmate au

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marvelousmarvelimagines · 3 years

Text

Parachutes

Pairing - Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Summary - A couple of months after Peter getting back on your dad’s good side, everything has been going great, and the two of you have been getting . . . closer. But then you almost get caught.

Word Count - 1k

Warnings - None

Things were going really well. In fact, things were going so well, you kept waiting for something to happen to disrupt it. After all, ever since your Dad had admitted that he was Iron Man, your life had been nothing but interrupted chaos. It seemed the tide might be turning though. He was back together with Pepper, engaged, and happy as you had ever seen him for the most part. When your dad was happy, you found it easy to be happy too.

Of course, Peter Parker and your random, but increasing everyday with frequency, makeout sessions helped too.

You were giggling, giggling, as he pressed kisses all over your face, holding you close against the suit you had designed for him. “Peter . . .” You managed to say in between kisses. “You said . . . there was something wrong . . . with the suit.”

“There is?” He replied, pulling away to give you a confused look. “I don’t remember.”

At once you burst into laughter that after a moment he joined in on, grinning at you in the most adorable way before kissing you once more.

It had started out a couple of months after Peter had gotten back in your Dad’s good graces. You had made that comment to him about if he ever needed kissing lessons to feel free to talk to you, not expecting him to take you up on it, but he did.

Now here you were, pushing him to sit down on your bed while you sat on his lap, smiling when he wrapped his arms around you again and held you to his chest like he was afraid to let go of you. Of course, his arms didn’t compare to his eyes, wide and trusting, with nothing but pure adoration in them as he looked at you. “Hi,” he said, that shy grin on his face making your heart do things you wouldn’t dare to admit to anyone.

“Hi,” you replied, slipping your arms around his neck and leaning forward to peck his lips for a brief moment. When he pouted, you laughed again, more breathlessly this time, and kissed him again, unable to deny him anything.

You had been kissed. You had been kissed several times as a matter of fact, but nothing could quite compare to the way that Peter Parker kissed you. He kissed you with everything he had, open and so vulnerable, not to mention trusting. He put his faith in you not just to keep him safe as Spiderman, but with his feelings as well.

He would probably never realize how much that meant to you.

Your kisses were getting more intense as your tongue slipped into his mouth, and his hand had slipped under the back of your shirt when there was a loud knock. “Kid! I need you!” Your dad called through your door.

Peter almost tossed you sideways as he looked around for somewhere to hide. “Jesus, Peter!” You hissed at him, straightening your clothes back up.

“Mr. Stark will kill me if he knows I’m here!” He said, panic in his voice.

Well, you couldn’t argue with that.

You turned around to look at the door as your Dad called again. “Come on! I need your help!” He repeated, and when you glanced around to find no trace of Peter, you went to the door and opened it.

“Yes?” You asked, poking your head out of the door. Just because Peter was hidden from you, didn’t mean you wanted to risk it.

“I know Pepper’s allergic to strawberries, but is there any other fruit that I’m forgetting? I’m going to send her one of those edible arrangements -”

“Nope! Strawberries only!” You told him. “I’m sure she’ll love it. See ya at dinner.” You said, attempting to shut the door.

Apparently a little too soon.

A hand stopped you from closing the door, and when you looked back at your Dad, he was looking at you with nothing but suspicion. “What are you doing?” He asked.

Putting your years of training to the test, you put on the most innocent expression you could muster, wide eyes, small smile and all. “I’m working on Pete’s suit. Giving it a few minor upgrades.”

“Oh? Well, I can take a look. I’m sure your old man -” He started to take a step inside, and you panicked.

“No!” You realized your mistake at once when Tony froze, and you tried to cover up your reaction. “I mean I wanted to work on this by myself you know? Since I’m the one who made his suit. Plus it’s not ready, but give me an hour and maybe we can go over it together?” You asked, hoping that he would go for it.

“One hour?” He repeated, his suspicious look not fading.

“One hour.” You affirmed, praying that -

“Fine,” He said, taking a step back from your door and letting his hand drop. “Not a second longer.” Your dad added, yelling at F.R.I.D.A.Y. to set an alarm.

Letting out a relieved sigh, you had never been more thankful for two things. One, the fact that your Dad was easily distracted if given something else to focus on, and two, you had long ago figured out how to keep the security cameras in your room on a loop.

You shut the door, expecting Peter to pop out at once, and frowning when he didn’t. “Peter?” You whispered, glancing around. “It’s safe.” You checked your closet, under your bed, behind your curtains, but still nothing.

It wasn’t until the little tap on your window that you realized where he had gone. “Peter?! What the hell?” You hissed as you stuck your head out the window, finding him clinging to it with his hands and feet looking more scared than you had ever seen him. “Get back in here!”

“It was the parachute.” Peter said, his eyes screwed tight. “That was what was wrong with the suit. I needed you to reinstall the parachute.”

Well, at least this wasn’t Stark Tower, and your bedroom was only ten stories up instead of ninety-three.

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #spiderman x reader #peter parker x you #marvel imagine

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marvelstarker-mha98 · 2 years

Note

grandpa!nicky being forced to watch over morgan after penny/peter and tony drop her off randomly with no warning 😭😭

Sorry for taking so long, was busy writing other stories :) Hope you like grandpa Nicky! Title: My grandpa is the director of shield -Fury was a busy man. He was a badass agent in his previous years and became Director of shield -As director of shield, he has many responsibilities, meeting with a few world leaders, paperwork, sending, agents or heroes to save them around the world or stopping hydra or villains. -Fury may be a respected, tough guy with one eye and profanity coming out from his mouth. He is a big softy when it comes to his grandchild, Morgan Parker stark that he was babysitting. -Actually, he wasn’t supposed to babysit her in shield Helicarrier but a certain horny married couple decided to come in without any call then gave their ten months daughter, morgan, to in the hands of Nonother than grandpa…i mean the director of shield - “What the hell, stark” - “Sorry, Nicky baby! Me and Mrs. need some break, its been eight months and we need it. Besides Morgana needs some spending time with her Grandpa Nicky” -”Don’t call me that!” - “Bye!” -And just like that, they left. I mean what the hell. that is like irresponsible parenting to give a child to their grandpa-like person without any call so that they could have some horny alone time. -Since Fury was forced to watch over his grandchild while handling Shield, he was a great babysitter with the slight help of Hill of course. -During the day, Fury watches over things through the hologram or visits the lab, he always carries morgan with a baby carrier and get’s awed and gifts to the girl by the people who are working with him. -In return, he gives them a “Do not picture me and my grandchild or else there will be consequences” Glare. -So no one in shield dares to take a picture of them but they secretly formed a really secret chat group called Protect Director Grandpa Nicky and his grandchild stark at all cost. -Yes that’s a thing -And Hill of course is the president of the group. Don’t know why. But mostly it was people who work in shield, avengers, and morgan’s parents who joined the group. -if Morgan is feeling hungry, he could order one of his men or Hill to buy Mc. Donald's kids meal. -When morgan gets bored, Fury will give him a rare smile and play with her. Like a pick a boo, blowing armpits, and using her ironman or spidergirl plushy toys to talk to her. -When she is cranky or sleepy, Fury would bring her to his office to sing her a lullaby that his mom use to sang or read her a bedtime story until she falls asleep on the couch with a pillow and a soft blanket or on his chest. -Then there is a time if Fury goes to a serious meeting, he has to leave morgan with Hill in his office. When fury was gone, Hill and a few female agents would dress morgan up and take a picture to send to her parents.

#Starker #tony stark #ironman #peter parker #spiderman #penny parker #spidergirl #morgan parker stark #nick fury #Maria hill #mcu #mcuship #marvel #avengers

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falcor-thee-luck-dragon · 3 years

Text

Let Chaos Reign

Chapter 3- Don’t Provoke The Bear

Summary: After getting your shit rocked by the Avengers, you now wake up in a strange new place even more pissed off then you already were. Also that one pretty looking dark haired guy won’t leave you alone.

Warning: reader being chaotic, Bucky trying his best

Masterlist - Chapter 2

Eyes still closed you can feel a soft pressure holding you up, slowly parting your eyelids, you’re soon greeted by the sight of bright lights circling you overhead, though they remain unmoving. On further inspection, once you force yourself into a seated position, you take notice that you’re in some kind of flat spherical glass holding cell.

Blinking groggily, you look down to find your clothes are all still on your body, suddenly a pang of fear hits you at the thought of your mothers necklace. Reaching for it, you’re relieved to feel it’s still with you. Thanking whoever will listen for that bit of good fortune in this otherwise adverse predicament.

Shifting your gaze back to the current situation of the room, you’re able to see around to some sort of large cavernous lab area with a multitude of that armored man from earlier, though you can tell there is no vital life that stirs within them. Guards maybe? Decoys? You have no idea.

Suddenly your eyes catch movement from the left door, a dark skinned man in black clothing and a single patch over his left eye appears. “Good morning. I’m Director Fury.” He smiles with a friendly nod, arms clasped behind his back while he walks over to you, “Or should I say afternoon?”

Getting off the elevated bed, you wander towards the thick glass keeping you from him, “Where am I?”

Fury nods, “Better question you should be asking is how long you’ve been out for, cause damn, you can sleep.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

He chuckles knowingly, “I almost couldn’t believe it myself when the team told me. But wow, holding back both Vision and Wanda for as long as you did. I’m thoroughly impressed.” He boasts for you, genuinely fascinated by your daring feat.

Right, those two.

You frown, gaze hard set and intimidating, “Where the fuck am I?”

“Well for one, you’ve been out for a whole 15 hours since they found you unconscious but alive after getting blasted by Vision and Wanda. Weren’t sure if you were gonna make it, seems the universe has yet to take you out.”

Pursing your lips together in irritation, you glare through the glass at him, “Well I’m not exactly from here so....doesn’t matter. Tell me what this place is and where the fuck I am!”

He holds up his hands, “Alright no need to get heated.” Before clasping them behind his back as he begins pacing slowly back and forth in front of you, “You’ve created quit the stir since arriving in Ireland. My intelligence first received a message indicating a storm greater then a category four hurricane, which by our standards is pretty damn massive. Soon a fun little video of you throwing some busses around like rag dolls peaked my interest. And give or take a couple days, here you are.”

Giving him a deadpanned stare, you cross your arms, “The mystery of the century. Where am I?”

“Alright fine I won’t leave you in suspense, you’re in New York State. In a very secure and safe facility home to the Avengers. Nice place huh?” He smiles, dark eyes looking elsewhere as he gives a little once over of the room.

“I’m in a cell.”

“Yes. But it’s a clean cell.”

Suddenly you slam your left fist against the thick glass causing him to flinch, “You have no right to hold me here! Release me. Now.” You growl darkly, golden irises appearing to almost glow with your building vexation.

“Can’t do that.”

“Alright then, if that’s how it’s going to be. Then I’ll do it myself.”

A second later he’s genuinely startled as you cock your arm back before slamming it into the clear thick glass. With the power of bending the material and your people’s strength, the glass cracks into a fist sized area. Satisfied with this, you do it again and again before a voice startles you.

[Miss, please refrain from breaking that. Mr. Stark has requested that you stop immediately.]

“Agreed.” Says Fury as he hustles over to the far wall, bringing his arm up to his mouth, he speaks but you can’t tell what he’s saying. What nonsense is he even doing?

Ignoring both of them, you punch the glass a fourth time before the voice interrupts again. [Miss. Please suspend your advances. Mr. Stark is on his way.]

Halting your fist from punching a fifth time, you take a step back and bring yourself to the center. Positioning yourself in a fighters stance, legs slightly bent, arms held about 90 degrees; you thrust them forward causing the metal contraption to creak and whine in protest.

Holding your arms close to your body now, you make two tight fists before violently punching at the air; the metal holding in the glass slams forcefully against the far wall. Destroying a couple of those stoic armored sentinels in the process.

“What the fuck?!” Yelps Fury in surprise as he falls to the floor from the force of the impact, “Hey! You better stay right the fuck over there!” He warns while cowering in the corner, nothing to really threaten you with but his voice. That is until he pulls out a stunted black gun, like the ones you have seen on the Norwegian police. You ignore his threats anyways.

Taking your first steps out of the desolated cell feels almost euphoric, your body embraces how strong and dangerous you feel among this place and what has presented itself to you within her walls. A man and his words, a disembodied voice telling you to stop fighting your way to freedom. Ridiculous, they have no idea who you are.

You take a single step left when the man, Fury, shouts loudly, “Stay right there!” Your eyes find the gun held tightly within his grasp, “I will shoot!”

You don’t care for this shallow warning, there are things in this universe more important then a mortal mans fearful intimidation. Opening up your palm, the gun flies out of his hands while he gasps with a start, eyes wide and panicked as you turn the short nosed barrel towards him. Closing your fist, the gun combusts to nothing more then destroyed metal and hard plastic as it clatters to the floor.

He watches in disbelief as you then turn to your left before taking the first door that reads exit above it; you wander past a long hallway until you come across a door leading to a long flight of stairs to some floor with a sign reading - Parking Area - the door is obviously closed.

This is too easy, you think suspiciously, somethings not right.

Opening up the door, you’re greeted by a large cavernous glass and metal room holding a large black aircraft on the far end, a couple more vehicles parked in various areas spread about the place. And not a soul in sight.

Hustling along into the room, you’re able to reach the door on the other side, opening it, you cautiously stick your head out. Ahead of you is a large green yard stretching all the way back to a tree line with trees placed neatly along a road leading up to the facilities main entrance area.

To your far left is a large river, but still, you have no idea where New York is. This is all unfamiliar territory to you, so finding the Ancient One is going to be a tough fucking job.

Not seeing anyone, you take your first couple steps into the open. Soon you’ve made it halfway across the grass headed for the tree line before the sound of gravel crunching causes you to pause and turn around to face the intruder.

So close. The woods are right there.

Clenching your fists, you keep a defensive stance as you stare him down, this man is undoubtedly familiar. He’s dressed in boots, jeans, a pair of cloves for some reason, and a faded grey t-shirt that’s mostly covered by his forest green jacket, while his long dark hair is washed and sits handsomely around his face. Blue eyes staring at you apprehensively, “We’re not here to harm you.” Cautiously says the man in a soft tone of voice, hoping not to provoke you again.

“Then why was I just locked in a cell?”

He pauses for a moment, “Uh, okay, yeah that looks bad.”

“Precisely.

You turn to leave, yet his voice makes you stay, “You don’t have to be on your own you know. I don’t know what you’re looking for, or who....but doing it alone will only take longer. We could help you, if you want.” He suggests with the tiniest hint of a smile. You don’t trust him.

You look towards the lake before finding his gaze yet again, your golden eyes admittedly sadder as you softly answer him, “No one can help me.”

He takes a step forward, face softening, “I felt the same way once. Alone and confused, not sure where to go, no one to trust. Believe me, it sucked......so, I’m just hoping you’ll listen. That’s it.”

“Well, I don’t particularly like any of you. And so far you’ve all gotten in my way and fought me....I have no reason to trust a thing you say.”

He purses his lips together and nods, you’ve got him there, but nonetheless he takes another step forward, “Sorry about that.” He mutters while rubbing the back of his neck, “Uh, let me try and start over....I’m Bucky. And I am definitely not here to fight you. Promise.”

Eyeing him up suspiciously, you take a step back, “Y/N Lavpranthus..of Vanaheim.” You finally reveal, albeit with a smidge of apprehension, however you are not one to hold back your own name if someone is to speak freely theirs.

Bucky nods, incredibly grateful for your calm demeanor for the moment and this first bout of information given willingly by you, though he has not a single clue where Vanaheim is, this is progress. Good progress; perhaps the team was right to send him out first as their guinea pig against the big bad wolf.

Stupid in retrospect, but so far it’s appeared an effective strategy instead of Tony’s idea which was to have Vision and Wanda knock you out again. Not an efficient way to make friends who can throw busses around like its nothing but a bag of grapes...and all without even touching them.

Bucky reveals the flash of a smile as you slowly calm your once defensive stance, though you’re still wary of his true intentions, “Y/N.” Repeats Bucky with a genuine grin as he tests out your name on his tongue, “Never heard that one before, it’s beautiful.

Taken aback by his kindness and sincere compliment to your name, you finally let your guard down, “My mother gave that to me, it was her sisters name, though she died before I met her. Guess it doesn’t matter now...” He frowns as you share a dismal look with the ground, remembering the events that brought you here in the first place.

Family.

Soon your anger rises once more as you think of your brother, that conniving piece of shit, “Bucky....I-I can’t stay here. I have to go, you wouldn’t understand. And I don’t want you to be involved....fuck....he probably already has scouts hunting for me.”

Bucky’s brows furrow in confusion, who would you be talking about he has no idea, “Y/N, no one could hurt you here, alright. This place is pretty damn guarded. I mean, we are the Avengers.”

Shaking your head you take a step backwards, “No, none of you understand how dangerous he is, I’m lucky he didn’t kill me when he had the chance.”

“Who tried to kill you?”

Finding his worried gaze once more, you back closer towards the woods, a knowingly loathsome look crossing your features as you frown, “My brother.” And with that do you make a swift exit into the trees, out of sight in an instant.

Bucky takes a hasty step forward before looking back at the base where all of the Avengers are watching from the windows, they collectively make a go-get-her motion with their hands, indicating that Y/N is now his problem.

Fantastic, he thinks sarcastically, half the team can fly and I’m going after a demigod with family problems.

——

Jumping over fallen trees and ragged roots alike, you’re swifter then a young leopard under the treetops, it’s admittedly incredibly freeing that you almost get lost in the rush of it all as your boots pound against the leafy ground.

Arms pumping you quickly along while you run deeper into the woods, you can’t remember the last time you’ve felt so free, though your fun soon comes to an abrupt halt when something hard latches onto both of your legs, instantly you begin falling towards the quickly approaching earth.

With lightening reflexes, your hands are thrusted outwards while you emit a blast of air that saves you from suffering brain damage or a bruised face. The wind aids your body in stabilizing itself once again; now standing with your lower legs tied collectively by some metal clasp, you quickly clap your hands together before focusing your release.

The metal clamps rip apart from off of your legs, freeing you in an instant, “What the fuck was that about?” You mutter to yourself when what would you know it, there’s Bucky standing not even twenty feet from you, an apologetic look on his annoyingly handsome face.

He raises his gloved hands into the air, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know how else to stop you...”

Shaking your head in disappointment, you take a step in his direction, “Bucky, you’re going to really wish you didn’t just do that.”

“Uh.” Is all he’s able to mutter before you send him flying backwards with the force of a small windstorm, you watch in amusement as he breaks some branches on his way to the ground.

“You really don’t like following orders now do you?” He hears you chuckle, “I like that. You’ve got a brave heart I’ll admit.” He watches as you walk into view, a knowing smirk adorning your beautiful otherworldly features, “Courage, it’s good. Even after what I did to you a couple days ago, you still came to speak with me when no one else dared, it’s valiant. You would be a noble warrior in my homeland.”

Bucky could have blushed if not for the stick poking uncomfortably into his back, “Thanks....you seem like...uh....an experienced...woman.” Mutters Bucky, mentally cringing at how unbelievably stupid that just sounded in comparison with how gloriously divine you are.

You snort, “Easy on the eyes and a skilled fighter. Guess conversation is too adept for even the likes of you.”

Bucky shows you a cheeky grin as he jumps to his feet, “Well....uh...you don’t really know me that well yet.”

You laugh at his weak flirting skills, “Too bad I’ve got elsewhere to be. I bet you’re fine company.”

“Right...right, yeah...” Mumbles Bucky with a nod, not really confident he’s gonna be able to sway you completely to his side, he just needs you to come back with him to the base. That’s it, well, in a calmly manner. “Uh...do you even know where you are?”

You open your mouth to speak but pause as you actually have not a single clue where you really are, brows furrowed you answer, “Upstate New York.” Your accent dripping strong with a tinge of uncertainty that greatly annoys you.

Bucky smiles, “Do you know where that is?”

“Well.....not completely but I’m willing to find out, elsewhere. I don’t need help, believe me.”

Bucky throws his hands up, “I believe you. It’s just....I don’t think you’re gonna find your brother without a little guidance here...”

“Don’t patronize me!” You snap angrily, eyes practically glowing gold as you fill with irritation; he’s trying to distract you from your goal, you don’t need any help from anyone. Your brother would never dare ask for such a thing if he was in your place, he probably would have killed this man in the facility yard without a second thought. “You’re all just prying little bastards, I have no business with any of you when my personal quandary is concerned!”

Clearly noticing he’s struck some kind of nerve, and remembering he’s been tasked with gathering as much information about you as possible while striving for the end goal of a truce. Bucky stupidly pressures you further, “Your brother can’t be that terrible, I mean.....what did he do?” Asks Bucky with a casual shrug, a sudden pang of fear flashing through his eyes as you send him a nasty glare.

You don’t even give him a moment to react before his forest green jacket is ablaze from your quick thrust of flame out of your fist, Bucky instantly yelps in surprise before swiftly throwing the burning fabric off of him before he catches fire himself. The jacket falls to a flaming heap on the forest floor, “What the hell?!” Yells Bucky, eyes wide at your incredibly abrupt act of hostility.

Whoosh!

And Bucky’s flat on his back with you right on top of him, kneeling down to meet his startled gaze, his breath hitches as you forcefully grab his stubbled jaw. Your eyes two golden coins of tempered rage, “You have no idea what he has done to me or my realm, you’re lucky I’m not like him or you’d be a burnt corpse adding to the ash of the universe. Pray you never meet him.” Your lip quivers in angered emotion as you lightly squeeze his jaw, “And if we meet again, I assure you someone will die.”

Bucky keeps still as stone as you finally release him from your admittedly powerful grasp, soon you rise to your full height, giving him one last conflicted look before sauntering off into the bushes.

He lets out a breath he didn’t know he had, chest rising heavily as the adrenaline rush of the fire and you touching him brings him back to reality. He’s on the ground in the woods and you’re absolutely no where to be seen. Soon he jumps to his feet and jogs in your direction until he reaches a gravel road leading back to the Avengers Facility.

You’re gone, just like a phantom in the shadows, gone.

Shaking his head in frustration, Bucky treks back to the base where Steve, Tony, and Natasha are waiting for him outside, all equally curious as to what the hell happened.

“Looks like you were unsuccessful, Barnes.” Quips Tony as Bucky throws him a dirty look.

“She’s...just.....complicated.” Mutters the tired Winter Soldier with a frown as they follow him to the front doors.

——

Bucky slouches comfortably into the back of the lounging rooms giant plush couch, a heating pad seated blissfully against his bruised back from all the times you knocked his ass to the ground today. Sam, Tony, Steve, and Natasha seated in various areas around the lounging room as they give him a break to rest.

Though the peace is soon broken by the sound of Tony’s irritating voice, “You at least get a name to hold against that psycho?”

Bucky throws him an annoyed glance, “She’s not a psycho, and her name is Y/N....I can’t remember her last name. It was something Middle Earth-like I don’t know.”

“Y/N?” Repeats Steve, “That’s different.”

Bucky’s face shifts to concentrated puzzlement, “Yeah, I know....it’s just, she said Y/N of Vanaheim or whatever that means....not sure but she’s definitely not from around here.”

“Really? What drew you to that final conclusion.” Jokes Sam as Bucky mutters an incomprehensible fuck off while the Falcon chuckles.

Natasha’s voice suddenly enters the conversation, “So she’s after her brother?”

Bucky nods, “Yep.”

“And doesn’t appear to know her way around this world either?”

“Yep.”

Natasha hums in thought as Sam speaks, “Damn. I wonder what happened to her before she got dumped into our world...”

Bucky suddenly sits up, “It’s just....she said some people are probably already after her, uh....her brothers guardsman I think?”

Steve takes a step forward, eye brows raised in interest, “Guardsmen?”

Tony nods, “Or are these some type of glorified assassins? I’m just putting this out there, but we really need to get this shit under control before she ends up destroying a building next. Or these, whoever is after her, decide to...oh I don’t know...kill some civilians while they’re at it.”

Bucky’s face shifts to puzzlement, “Dammit. It’s kinda my fault she ran off.” They all give him a varying amount of intrigued expressions as he sighs, “I was just trying to get more info out of her and then I talked about her brother and she set my jacket on fire, before throwing me to the ground and roughly grabbing my face to threaten me, she was really mad too.”

Sam smirks, “Did you enjoy it. Getting manhandled by a pretty lady in the woods?”

“Sam.” Mutters Steve like a disappointed father reprimanding his son.

“Come on Buck, it’s okay, you can tell us. Was it nice?”

Bucky throws him a deadly glare, “Actually it was, I felt very loved and comforted.” He quips, voice dripping in sarcasm before a more thoughtful expression crosses his features, “But she didn’t actually hurt me. I don’t know, she almost looked conflicted to leave....I don’t know it happened so fast.” He mumbles, closing his eyes as he falls back into the comfort of the couch.

“Well as much as I’m enjoying this time together with all of you...” Says Natasha, “We now have a person from an unknown world on the loose with incredible power and the means to use it as she wants. We all know where that can lead us.”

“With more collateral damage then what Ultron gave us.” Adds Tony, “Fortunately this time it won’t be my fault...like that makes a big difference I know. Still, she’s the Avengers newest problem now and we don’t have a damn clue where Miss. Anger Management is.”

“Uh, not exactly.” Starts Bucky as they all turn to look at him. Sam raises an intrigued brow, “What do you mean, not exactly?”

“I, well uh-when she was threatening me, well one of the times she was threatening me...I was able to plant a tracker on the inside of her one pocket. Then she pushed me into the grass and ran off into the woods, I couldn’t keep up even if I tried. She was just gone, but at least I was able to do that. It’s something.”

“Barnes.” Says Tony slowly, “And you’re just telling us this now? When we could have been sending some intelligence or agents or even ourselves out to find her.”

“Sorry but I was recovering from getting beaten up by a beautiful demigod to remember so soon,” Sasses Bucky, “but yeah, that aside, she’s got a tracker on her so all I’d need to do is pull it up on my phone and I’m good to go. Well, as long as she hasn’t found it yet.”

“If it’s just like that, you’re sharing with the rest of the class.” Says Tony while he wanders over to the television mounted upon the wall, “I’m gonna have you link with the tv, I don’t wanna miss a second.”

With a dramatic sigh does the Winter Soldier lean over to grab the thin metal device from off of the coffee table in front of him while Tony flicks on the large tv screen. Once all is set correctly and synched up, the others watch on in curiosity as he scrolls around a bit before finding the app and clicking on it, a couple passwords are sent in and accepted when the screen then shows one option labeled -Unite_1P - between two white bars within a sea of black.

He taps the label and the screen changes to a view of North America resembling that of google maps, but the screen soon shifts to zoom in on a moving pin point in red that’s traveling a couple miles far northeast of the Bronx, where it appears that Y/N happens to be trekking through some forest heading downwards towards that designated part of New York City.

Steve’s eyes trail over the red pin point, “So that’s where Y/N is going?”

“Seems like it. And she hasn’t a damn clue where she’s actually going either.”

Sam keeps his gaze locked onto the map as well, “And what does she want exactly?”

“She said something about finding her brother but that’s honestly it, I tried to help her but it was almost pointless. She’s on her own mission now, and no ones going to get in her way.”

Steve sighs, “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

“What?”

“Y/N. Someone getting in her way, someone just trying to lend a hand and she takes it the wrong way and then...”

“I know man, but I don’t think she’d do that to some innocent person. At least I don’t think she would.” Worries Bucky while everyone takes a moment to process and stare at the screen, red pin point still moving slowly towards New York City. The creak of wood is suddenly heard and all five Avengers turn their heads towards the abrupt noise of Director Fury who’s found himself a spot to stand in the large room.

“Unfortunately we don’t know that. And as the worlds mightiest heroes. It’s your collective duty to always assume the worst. She’s strong, has a goal, and appears able to get it if she tries hard enough. It’s admirable, and yes she’s no Loki...but she is a danger to Earth the less we know about her true intentions and the longer she’s out of our reach.” Explains Fury, “Barnes you’ve done incredibly well. But our apparent need for you has increased as well, so I suggest you smack on a band-aid because we’re going to have a nice civil conversation with her whether she wants it or not.”

“Me?”

“Yes you. You’re the only person she hasn’t tried to send a chunk of metal at, you got close, you got the information. We need you to do it again.”

Steve looks to Fury, “I don’t know if that’s a good idea. What if she...”

“I’ll do it.....” They all give Bucky a collective array of questionable facial expressions as he shrugs, “What? I think she’ll listen, maybe, okay I’m not one hundred percent sure if Y/N will hear me out. But I gotta try right? She’s conflicted inside, she’s hurt and alone....if I just have a moment, another moment, I think I could get to her. I think she’ll listen.”

Fury smiles as Steve lowers his gaze, “That’s what I like to hear Mr. Barnes. And don’t none of you worry alright. We’ll be close, at a safer distance of course, but close in case anything goes south. Now the day is still young and we have a demigod to find, I assume you all know what to do.”

Steve looks to the array of assembled heroes, “Suite up..well actually...just Bucky.”

The designated man of the hour rolls his eyes, “Yeah, yeah, I’m going.”

Tagged: @buckylokisimp @diegos-butt @minigranger @bibliophilewednesday @holyhumorliteraturelight @lilacs-lavender @a-girl-who-loves-disney @bizarrebibitch @starkssnarks @vikingqueen28 @jmstz @thehornytitties @staygoldsquatchling02 @cleverzonkwombatsludge @mischiefmanaged71 @noragracebrewer @atomicpersonacheesecake @thescarlettvvitch @shawnartmendes

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes #the winter soldier x you #the winter soldier x y/n #the winter soldier x reader #the winter soldier #avengers imagine #marvel x reader #marvel x y/n #marvel x you #bucky barnes series #fanfiction #fanfic #series

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abnormallynice · 3 years

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The World Evolves With You

The long-awaited personal take on a TWEWY-Digimon crossover is complete T3T/

Keep reading if you like headcanons and text! (TWEWY spoilers inbound):

The wolrd/AU follows alongside the TWEWY story with minor changes: - Players are partnered with a Digimon, not other players. Though, groups sticking and working together helps (as Shiki says in W1) - If the human or Digimon in a team is erased, they other will also cease to exist in several minutes. No Digimon nursery/rebirth or data downloading. - As a Player has personal growth, their Digimon will show equal in growth and digivolve into higher stages. - Digimon are In-training on Day 1 and outside of battles but automatically digivolve to at least Rookie when the battle initiates. In rare instances, some humans have Digimon higher than Rookie stage. - Where player’s prize for winning the Game is a second chance at life, Digimon have a chance at reincarnation into the human world, in a form of their choice. - Noise are mindless Digimon with tribal markings and appendages.

Neku and Monodramon: Evo line: Monodramon > Strikedramon > Cyberdramon > Justimon - Since Neku is our lovely protagonist, he gets the coveted dino/dragon Digimon. This was an amazingly hard choice to make (At first I wanted to go with Impmon, but ultimately I decided it suits Beat better). I did like the idea of Neku having rough, violent looking digis up until Mega, then showcasing a change of heart via the look of the final evo. - During the last day of W3, Justimon appears, a stark contrast in look and personality compared to prior forms. Justimon represents Neku’s final growth as a person, with a less aggressive shell but strong sense of justice for the friends he’s made, people he’s helped and a world he promised to get back to. - Notably, Neku’s Digimon is the only one that doesn’t have a set of wings in Mega. Let’s say It represents his stubbornness to not accept death, even when he was forced into the UG over and over. - It’s not surprising that Neku does NOT like this little, chubby purple creature that keeps following him around at the start of W1. It’s Shiki that helps convince Neku they have to work together (they still meet on D1W1. She and BlackGatomon saved Neku and Monodramon’s collective butts). Sloooowly, Neku and his digimon’s relationship betters and by the end they are 100% in sync.

Shiki and BlackGatomon (Mr.Mew) Evo line: Salamon > BlackGatomon > LadyDevimon/Angewomon > Mastemon - In contrast to Neku, Shiki’s Digimon was a painfully easy choice, lol. She always refers to her Digi as Mr. Mew as well, as they surprisingly resemble a stuffed animal she had when she was alive. In reality, her digimon IS her stuffed animal (thanks to data collection on the digimon’s part, it knows and understands Shiki). It’s one of the reasons that Mr.Mew is a champion level when they first meet. Mr.Mew only ever devolves to Salamon after Shiki’s first encounter with Higashizawa in W1. - Mr.Mew’s evo line is the only one that doesn’t follow ‘traditional’ evolution. The first time they go to Ultimate, the evolve to LadyDevimon; representative of Shiki’s still inner turmoil. When facing Higashizawa on D7, they slide evolve to Angewomon; representing her accepting herself (This is one of the reasons she is the winner of the Game in W1). In the final battle, the two evolutions combine to make Mastemon (I recommend looking at a pic of this digi because wow <3 ).

Joshua and Lopmon Evo line: Lopmon/Lopmon X > Cherubimon (Good) X - I knew knew knew Josh had to get Cherubimon as his Mega. Where most of the other’s Digimon Megas have somewhat seemingly human forms, Churubimon looks out of place as this massive pink bunny with winged ears, indicative that Joshua isn’t human like other players. Cherubimon X looks even more alien and ethereal (seriously, google it. The floating notes/digicode is perfect imo). - As part of Joshua’s deal with Kitaniji, he took a handicap and his powers were lessened, which made Cherubimon X a Lopmon. His Digimon appears as a regular Lopmon when meeting Neku for the first time, which helped mask his identity and assume his role as a regular player. However, Neku will soon notice that Lopmon never digivolves higher than Rookie (whereas his own Digimon was steadily evolving to Champion level). - When Joshua reveals his innate power in W2D5, his seemingly regular Lopmon transforms to Lopmon X. X-antibody Digimon are unheard of, and much stronger than their base-level counterparts (I tease at this in the image by giving Johua’s Lopmon a fluffy tail, which regular Lopmon don’t have. If anyone questions it, Joshua would explain how its a clip-on and looks much cuter than the stubby tail, lol). - Cherubimon X is only ever revealed right at the end of the final battle, when Neku and Joshua face each other. Joshua dares Neku into killing him, but Neku can’t bring himself to command Justimon to do it. Cherubimon X then attacks both Neku and his Partner.

Beat and Impmon Evo line: Impmon > Meramon > SkullMeramon > Beelzemon - Pairing Impmon and Beat just felt natural. They both share an innate need to be badass but are also unwittingly dense and easily embarrassed. They constantly bicker with each other but when it’s time to fight, they can’t wait to get in there and show what they’re made of. - On W1D3, Rhyme still sacrifices herself to save Beat (he knew Rhyme was his sister from the start so he and Impmon stuck around her and her partner). Although Beat didnt get erased, he still made the choice to become a Reaper. - When Rhyme gets erased, it sees a shift in Beat’s motivations and personality, which naturally affects Impmon. Impmon permanently evolves to SkullMeramon and is mindless fighting machine during W2, just operating off Beat’s whim. When Neku gives him Rhyme’s pendant, both Beat and his Digimon soften up. - As a reaper, Impmon could evolve and stay at Ultimate level without issue. When Beat rejoins Neku in W3, he loses that ability and his Digi has to start from square one; In-training level. Impmon (or Yaamon, in this case) wasn’t too happy. Eventually, Impmon gets back to comfortably sitting at Rookie during W3. - W3D7, at the dead god’s pad, (when facing Kitaniji and Shiki) with Beat’s resolve and growth, Impmon evolves right into Beelzemon (indicative of how Beat wants to become more capable and help people he cares about while looking awesome), saving Neku. Beelzemon also helps Neku, his Partner and the other Player’s Digimon to take on Kitaniji’s final form.

Rhyme and Kudamon Evo line: Kudamon > [ERROR] - Kudamon have cool, collected personalities and can conduct precise assessments, even during battle. For this reason I really liked it for Rhyme’s partner. It’s the most pleasing choice close to squirrel-shaped! I liked this version of Kudamon in particular as well (vs the 2006 anime version), since the markings on it were very Noise-like! - When Rhyme sacrifices herself for Beat in W1D3, Kudamon is at risk of being deleted. As a counter, Mr.H binds Rhyme’s soul to the Digimon, keeping it alive (although Rhyme couldn’t speak through Kudamon, the Digimon could feel her emotions and hear her thoughts). - During Beat’s Reaper stint, Kudamon was with him, but no matter what they said, Beat wouldn’t break away his focus. He loosens up eventually and can take Kudamon’s words to heart. - Kudamon accompanies Neku, Beat and their partners through W3, and does get captured by Konishi on D1. - Although Kudamon never evolves (or devolves) beyond Rookie, they do help immensely during the battle with Konishi on W3D7. They are at the final battle as well.

And that’s all for now. Thank you for reading all of that >v<’‘‘\ Hope you enjoyed!! Give me you headcanons and ponders if you like! Maybe someday I’ll get to the Reapers..... ‘‘‘OTL

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marvelsbetch · 3 years

Text

Peter Parker’s parent teacher conference

Warnings: IronStrange, Supremefamily, bullied Peter, dick head teachers, anxious Peter and homophobia.

-Peter POV-

"Hey Bambi, why didn't you tell us about your parent-teacher conference tomorrow night?" Pops asked sitting next to me on the living room couch.

"I didn't think you would've wanted to go? Dads not the one for school or teachers and you're -well- you." I explained tentatively.

"I'll take that as a compliment. Just so you know, we'll be there for around 5 so just after your decathlon meeting. It'll just be me and your dad so no need to be embarrassed." Pops told me.

"Thanks. This'll be the first parent-teacher conference I would've ever been to." I told him.

"Same kid. It's a first time experience for us all." Pops smiled at me.

"Not many times that happens." I commented resting my head on his shoulder.

"No it's not Bambi, no it's not." He smiled putting his head on mine.

-Next day at 5 o'clock-

"Hey Penis, what're you still doing here? This is a thing for kids with parents." Flash taunted walked passed me in the gymnasium as I waited for my dads.

"Shut up Flash, you know nothing about my family." I told him.

"You better watch your tone Parker or you'll have another black eye." Flash threatened getting really close to me.

"If you would be so kind as to step away from my kid, it would he greatly appreciated." Pops' voice spoke from next to me. They must've just arrived.

"Oh my God! It's Stephen Strange! And Tony Stark!" Flash all but yelled making the whole room fall silent.

"It's Stephen Stark actually. I didn't spend thousands on a wedding for people to not recognise my changed last name." Pops corrected.

"I'm so sorry. I'm such a fan of both of your works." Flash blabbered composing himself.

"Eugene! We've been looking everywhere for you!" A man, who I presume is Flash's father, scolded walking up to us with a woman trailing behind.

"Sorry father but look who I found. The Starks." Flash excitedly announced.

At this point I slowly slipped away from him and walked up to my Dad who gladly greeted me with a hug. I could feel the warmth of the arc reactor on my chest and it gave a strange comfort. After a few moments we let go but I didn't move very far, being so close to Flash made me really anxious.

"Underoos you okay?" Dad asked me worriedly trying to look into my eyes.

"Yeah I'm fine, just tired. I was up late finishing a piece of homework last night." I lied hoping Pops wouldn't say anything as I fell asleep on him last night.

"Wow Mister Stark. I must say I'm a big fan of your work. If you haven't noticed I try to style myself off of you." Flash's father said showing off his black tailored suit and aviator sunglasses and reached out for a handshake.

"I'm flattered but I don't do handshakes. I'm not the biggest fan of touching." Dad told him trying to give a convincing smile.

"Then why've you got an arm around Pen-Peter?" Flash asked making both my Dads give him the 'Bitch WTF' look. I hate that look. Dad was about to say something but I decided to cut in.

"So, why don't we do what you came here to do and speak to my teachers? Sounds great, let's go." I spoke grabbing Pops' hand and dragging him and Dad to one of my teachers.

"Who was he?" Dad asked in a demanding tone.

"Nobody important. Look Mr. Harrington's free. Let's go and talk to him." I rushed and pulled my dads towards Mr. Harrington's table.

"Ah, Peter and Mr. and Mr. Stark. Lovely to meet you, I love all you've done for the world." Mr Harrington spoke as we took our seats.

"Thank you Mr. Harrington." Pops said.

"No problem. So, I teach Peter Physics and I've got no problems. The only thing I would say is that he is often on his phone during lesson and doesn't listen that much. However with that being said, he's never got below an A+ on his tests. You should be proud of him." Mr. Harrington smiled.

"We are. Is that all?" Dad said ruffling my hair slightly.

"That's all thanks." Mr. Harrington announced and shook Pops' hand before we walked away.

"That was a really good report but who're you texting during class? It better not be one of the others or your dad." Pops asked and gave Dad a pointed look.

"No it's this guy I met online. His names Harley Keener and he seems really nice." I explained as I lead them to my history teacher.

"Harley Keener?" Dad asked shocked.

"Yeah. Why? Do you know him?" I questioned.

"Sorta. I'll explain when we get home." Dad dismisses before turning around to face my history teacher Mrs. Keens.

"Wow, this is a shock. It's not everyday the Starks turn up to a parent-teacher conference. How are you both?" She rushed out slightly flustered.

"We're doing fine thank you. How is Peter in this subject?" Pops asked, straight to the point as always.

"Peter is amazing, always hands his homework in on time, always listens in lesson and has never received less than an A on a test. You should be proud of him." She informed smiling at me.

"Wow, our little goody-two-shoes." Dad teased ruffling my hair slightly.

"One thing that you may or may not be aware of is a boy called Eugene Thomson. He seems to be bullying Peter for whatever reason, I've caught him a few times throwing paper balls at Peter or sliding him malicious notes. I'm not sure if it's friendly or not but I felt you should know. Thank you." Mrs. Keens informed, may the ground swallow me up now.

"We will also discuss this later on." Pops told me sternly, oh no.

We left Mrs. Keens with a slight wave and headed back to the main area to find another teacher. My eyes landed on my English teacher who didn't seem very happy, this is not going to end well.

"Oh look, it's your English teacher." Dad commented and pointed to Mr. Malory. Fuuuuuuuuck.

"How do you know my English teacher?" I asked worriedly.

"Research department, making sure my son has the best education he can. Let's go to him now while he's free." Dad brushed off and started to walk towards him. God save me.

My English teacher hates me for no reason, always turns a blind eye to Flash, always nitpicks my assignments and finds any reason to not give me a good grade. He's also quite homophobic and has expressed on many occasions his hatred for my Dads and anything to do with them. He even leads a group called the 'Freedom from Starks'. This is so not ending well.

"Peter, didn't expect to see you here." Mr. Malory commented not looking up from his clip board.

"Well, this is a parent-teacher conference and I, as his parent, would like to speak to my sons teacher about his school work. If you'd be so kind." Dad said, his words oozing sarcasm and sass. He really did his research.

Mr. Malory picked his head up and stared Dad dead in the face. The distaste clearly shown on both faces as the three of us took our seats, Pops took Dad's hand, probably as a way to calm him down. This is worse than I thought.

"Well, if I'm being honest, Peter is the worse student I've ever taught. He's disruptive in lessons, throws paper at a wonderful student called Flash Thompson, slides Flash malicious notes and seems to find any excuse to blame Flash. His work is simply upgradable and I couldn't thing on a bigger lost cause than your son. Any questions?" Mr. Malory spoke and Dads face got redder and redder with anger.

"Really, then why did the last teacher we speak to say it was the other way around, that 'Flash' was the one throwing paper and passing notes?" Dad questioned leaning forward in his seat.

"Look, I don't know what happens in other lessons and quite frankly, I don't care. All I know is Peter is a major distraction and it's bordering bulling with Flash." Mr. Malory told us.

"What about his work is so upgradable? Is it his handwriting or the content of what he's writing?" Pops asked placing his other hand on top of Dads. This is getting serious.

"The content. The ludicrous stories of the Norse Gods and his 'adventures' with them are beyond reason. His stories are beyond the realm of possibility and are just ludicrous." Mr. Malory told them.

"His stories about the Norse Gods, does this involve Thor putting his hammer in inconvient places or Loki and black widow being kind and caring to others?" Das asked.

"Yes." Was Mr. Malory's short response.

"Well, it is within the realm of possibility as it happens. Every single day at the compound or sanctum." Pops spit out trying to keep calm.

"Oh well, maybe he should learn to be more creative with his stories." Mr. Malory spoke silently challenging Pops.

"Thanks sir." I hastily said before dragging both my dads out of their seats and walking off.

"No Pete, I would like to hear more about how much of a bad student you are." Dad argued challenging Mr Mallory.

"And I will be glad to provide. Mr Park-"

"Stark." Dad deadpans.

"Mr Stark is highly disruptive not only to Mr Thomson but is also always on his phone, sleeping in class or just straight up not listening. Honestly, his behaviour is a reflection as to why you people shouldn't be allowed to have kids, you simply don't know how to raise them." Mr Mallory continued to explain. Dad went red.

"What do you mean by you people?" Pops asked scarily calm as be placed a hand on Dad's knee to soothe him slightly.

"Gays. You shouldn't be allowed children because there's not a mother to properly raise them, I never had these issues when Peter lived with May. I honestly think it would be in his best interest to place him back in her care."

Oh my god. He knows May is dead. He knows that I can't be 'placed back in her care' and It was the same when I did live with her, nothing changed.

We were all stunned into silence, including some of the surrounding parents and teachers who were stunned. Well, we were silent until Dad blew up at him.

"How dare you," he began, "I take as good care of my son as any other parent here does, I give him as much as I can and do everything I can to be a good parent to him. If he's sleeping in your classes or being distracted then maybe you should make your lessons more interesting and not be blind sighted by your homophobic, bigoted and downright dickish beliefs. Your head may be crammed so far up your ass you can smell your lungs but maybe once join us in the real world and see that just because people are different doesn't mean they're not as capable. I will be putting in a formal complaint and if I were you, I'd start looking for new places of employment seeing as I am one of the biggest donators to this school. Come on Pete, we're going home."

Dad then grabbed Pops' hand and my arm before storming out of the building towards the car. You could see the steam coming out of his ears as Pops tried in a desperate attempt to calm him down.

I think I can safely say that this night was a disaster.

#ironstrange #tony stark #doctor strange #mcu #marvel #iron man #DOMESTIC AVENGERS #parent teacher conferences #SUPPORTIVE AVENGERS #supportive tony stark #soft Tony stark #sofy doctor strange #stephen strange

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jimlingss · 3 years

Note

I saw that u were taking requests (yey) I'd want like a soulmate au (there are numerous kinds but I want u to have freedom to write what kind u want!) but it's just pure angst 😳😳 it could be any member n possibly an open or no happy ending :] I'm just a sucker for angst n think u would write this so well!

Anonymous said: Yoongi x reader, soul mate au, angsty but happy ending pls cuz I'm sensitive 🥺 maybe both soul mates get a weird tattoo, or hear each others thoughts or something else

Both these requests are asking for soulmate AUs, so I’m compiling them together. But one wants it to be angst city and the other wants a happy ending LOL. Guess we’ll see what happens.

↳ The Soulmate Gift

3.6k || 70% Angst, 30% Fluff || Min Yoongi || Soulmate!AU

Warning: depiction of child abuse

It happens when you’re ten.

They told you it was different for everyone, that it usually started during puberty and it was perfectly normal. But you’re pretty sure it’s not supposed to be like this.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

You flinch at the noises, the bathroom door quivering against the frame from the pounding on the other side. Your mom shouts, “Get out!”

“Just give me one second!” You look back into the mirror, staring at yourself with seaweed green hair and streaks of bright purple. You look like a clown and you want to cry.

You don’t run into your mom on your way out, so you go to school with a tattered baseball cap, stuffing all of your hair in it. During the trudge to school with a grumbling stomach, you hold the cap tight against your skull, not letting a single strand loose. You’re nervous on the playground, your other hand coming to grip at your backpack strap. But luckily, no one asks.

At least not until you’re inside and getting settled into your desk.

“Good morning, class!” Mrs. An struts into the room, beelining towards the front. “Open your books! Tommy, shush!” You try your best to hide beneath your open textbook that’s propped up, but the moment she looks in your direction, she’s already saying, “Y/N, no hats inside.”

You straighten. “Um, my mom—”

“Rules are rules. Take it off,” she commands without leaving room to argue or explain. “This is the last time I’ll repeat myself unless you want detention.”

So you do.

You slip the cap off your head with tears stinging your eyes.

Mrs. An turns to the whiteboard, beginning to write the title for today’s lesson, but a loud gasp from the classmate sitting behind you captures her attention again. She swivels on her feet and her eyes land straight on your head. Everyone’s eyes do. On your stark, fiery red hair.

Your cheeks burn in embarrassment.

The next thing you know, you’re being dragged by your teacher into the principal's office. From the hall, you can still hear the entire classroom giggling, whispering about you and making a complete ruckus much to Mrs. An’s dismay.

“This is unbelievable!” she howls, hands lifted to the sky. “How could a fifth grader have hair like this?! It’s entirely inappropriate! It’s a complete distraction to the classroom!”

The principal, Mr. Park, hums. His hands are clasped on top of his desk and he calmly asks, “Did your parents dye your hair yesterday, Y/N?”

You slump and mutter, “No.”

He frowns. “Then who did?”

“No one…”

Mrs. An spits, “Then you did it yourself?!”

“No!” Your voice pitches in an attempt to defend yourself and your teeth sink into the bottom of your lip, trying to hold back your tears. You don’t want to get into trouble. “I woke up like this!”

But Mrs. An doesn’t believe you. Her eyes narrow and she scoffs. “How dare you lie to me and the principle?! If you didn’t do it, then who did? It’s against the rules to have anything other than your natural hair colour!”

Mr. Park sighs lightly. “We’ll just have to contact your mom and speak to her, Y/N.”

Immediately, your eyes widen and you bolt to a stand. “No, please!” you cry out. “Don’t! I’m sorry! I’ll dye it back! I won’t do it ever again!”

But the man shakes his head. “It’s too late for that.”

Your fist crumples and you deflate.

Your mom comes in half an hour later, dressed in stained jeans, old boots, and the only clean flannel she has. She’s not happy. You can tell by the look on her face. Even if she smiles and nods her head at the principal, you can see the tick in her eye and the muscle in her cheek twitching.

The moment she looks at you, her eyes become rounded at your crimson hair.

“I had no idea this happened. I’m so sorry for her behaviour. She must’ve gotten her hands onto my dye kits somehow.” She sighs and turns to you. “It won’t happen again. Right, Y/N?”

You nod. “I’m sorry.”

Mr. Park smiles softly. “Not at all. It’s not that big of a deal. Some...teachers around here just adhere more strongly to the rules, so we want to make sure it’s consistent for everyone. It’s a bit of a distraction to her peers, but as long as Y/N comes in tomorrow with more...appropriate hair, it won’t be a problem.”

Afterwards, you’re sent home early.

Your mom is silent on the walk home. You trail after her, dreading what will happen when you get back.

The neighbours’ dog barks against the chain link fence, growling and baring their teeth. You flinch, getting closer to the gutter to avoid them. You’re safe when you get to your yard a few steps away and onto the worn, wooden porch that nearly breaks with your mom’s stomps. She kicks a few cigarette buds to the side and opens the squeaky screen door. You swallow hard and follow after her.

The living room is messy with clothes and old pizza boxes on the floor, and the TV is still on in the corner.

“Mom….mom….I didn’t do it.”

You drop your backpack, watching her stride towards the kitchen. She opens a drawer as you plead to her, and your voice becomes louder as the silver reflection of sharp scissors catches your eye. “No! Please! I swear I’m not lying!”

It’s useless.

She’s larger, taller, bigger and stronger than you are.

She comes over and grabs your long hair, yanking it from your head. You cry as she starts to cut. Jagged lines, quick snips, sawing off the strands. A sob breaks through your chest and trying to get away only makes her grip on your hair tighten and she pulls it to get you back.

Mom grits her teeth. “How dare you go behind my back and cause my trouble, you bitch. You stole my dye, didn’t you?! You thief!”

You scream and cry. “I didn’t! I didn’t!”

She never once notices how your hair returns to its natural colour as it sheds to your feet. That the moment it’s snipped from your head, the blazing red has faded away and lost the colour.

When it’s over, the scissors are tossed on the floor.

You’re left slumped on the ground, in a pool of your own hair. There are bald spots on your scalp while the other side is longer, uneven. What’s left of your head bleeds bright yellow, the colour of sunshine.

The next day, the shade mellows out, almost into a dirty blonde. You hope it’s good enough.

Your mom’s asleep on the sofa, snoring away with the TV still playing in the background. So you make it past her and trudge to school.

Kids are playing on the playground when you get there and you grip your backpack straps as you look on. But you don’t join them. Your feet turn and you duck out of sight, slipping into the school through the side doors. You’re lucky the janitor hasn’t locked them.

You’re not supposed to be inside the building yet, but you hope no one notices. Unluckily, someone turns the corner down the hall. But you breathe a sigh of relief when it’s just Mrs. Jung.

She’s always been nice.

“Good morning.”

She’s busy tapping on her phone, yet in a chirpy voice, she still exclaims, “Good morning! How are you—”

Mrs. Jung finally looks up and she suddenly stops.

You don’t know why her face looks like that. Like she’s seen a ghost. Is your hair really that bad? You tried to fix it and you thought it turned out okay.

Mrs. Jung gets closer and then lowers to a kneel in front of you, matching your height. Her shaking hand lifts and she touches the side of your head. You feel her fingertips against your scalp that still stings. You hiss and when you look at her, you see tears in her eyes. You wonder why.

“Who did this?” Her voice is quiet, gentle.

“Um….I was playing with scissors.”

Mrs. Jung looks at you again and says, “You’re allowed to tell me, Y/N.”

You stay quiet, not sure what to tell her, not sure you want to get into any more trouble. If you do and get sent to the principal's office again, who knows what your mom would do then.

But as you’re thinking about it, Mrs. Jung adds on, “No one will get into trouble, I promise.”

She looks into your eyes.

Your head droops, downcast vision looking at the floor. A quiet mumble escapes— “My mom.”

You’re not sure what happens after that. You’re sure your mom would be enraged if she knew you were talking about her and if you got her into trouble, that would be the worst. But for some reason, you don’t feel scared. Not when Mrs. Jung takes your hand and brings you to her science classroom.

You sit behind her desk that’s hidden away from the rest of the class by bookshelves and she gives you an apple juice box. You slurp it up — you haven’t eaten since yesterday’s lunch.

When you peek out, you see Mrs. Jung talking to another teacher in the hall. Soon after, the principle comes to visit you. He has the same expression as Mrs. Jung did and asks you if your mom’s done something like this before.

That day, your grandma picks you up from school. It’s a pleasant surprise. You’ve always liked your grandma but your mom never let her visit much. She hugs you tight.

The colour of your hair is a warm shade of gray.

...

Mrs. Jung takes you on a one-on-one special field trip on Sunday. She picks you up from Grandma’s house after you’ve had your favourite for breakfast: sunny-side up eggs. She drives you to the clinic and the female doctor hits your knee, making it bounce. The doctor also measures how tall you are, shines a light in your eye and asks if green is your favourite colour.

You see in the wall mirror that your head’s turned into a teal shade. You tell her no.

Half an hour later, you’re put in a machine that flashes lots of colours. They reassure you but you’re not scared. The vivid hues and mosaic of shades that blur past your eyes are pretty.

When it’s done, the doctor holds a clipboard while sitting next to the computer. Your legs swing from the edge of the examination table as you’re situated comfortable on the plush seat.

“It’s as I initially suspected, the hair is her soulmate gift. It changes colour based on her soulmate’s emotions.”

Mrs. Jung frowns. “I’ve never heard of something like that before.”

“Yes, well, it’s much more rare. Only point zero six experience a hair quirk.” The doctor looks from Mrs. Jung to you then back at her again. “Typically, as you know, soulmate gifts come in the form of names tattooed into skin or even countdowns of when the person would meet their soulmate, but soulmate gifts can take all kinds of different shapes and forms. Luckily, this shouldn’t affect her too much aside from, obviously, her hair changing color. Kids usually receive their gift around puberty, but looks like she’s an early bloomer.”

The doctor briefly smiles at you and then rolls on her chair towards her desk. “She’s also malnourished, but I believe with the proper nutrition, she’ll be able to recover. We should book another appointment in a few months to keep an eye on that and the hair.”

When the trip to the clinic is over, Mrs. Jung brings you to the mall.

You look around with wide eyes at all the clothes in the windows, but she eventually stops in front of a particular store and kneels in front of you. Her eyes lock into yours and she takes your hand.

“Y/N, you understand what the doctor told you, right?”

“Yeah. My hair’s my soulmate gift.” You had guessed it was that anyway.

Mrs. Jung nods with a smile. “Yes, you’ve always been a smart girl.”

She strokes your head affectionately and says, “I know you might not feel it now, but it really is a gift. Your soulmate is the one meant for you, your other half. They’re the one who can make you even happier. It’s both a blessing and a privilege to have. But it’s also okay if you hate it. You don’t have to like your soulmate gift,” she reassures. “If one day, you’re more comfortable with your hair, then that would be good. But it’s also okay if you’re not. It’s up to you.”

You nod after a moment.

Mrs. Jung smiles. “We’re gonna go into that wig shop, okay? You can pick two that you like and I’ll help you get it.”

Picking out wigs is more fun than you expect. The people there are happy to help and you end up going home with one black, long hair wig and another brown bobbed one that makes you look like Rapunzel after she cut her hair.

...

You only see your mom three times after that.

Once, she comes to your grandma’s house. Your grandma doesn’t let her see you, but you watch them yell at each other on the porch from the upstairs window. The next time is a year later in court. Your mom cries out for you and you tell her you’re sorry. Her hug is so tight, you can barely breathe.

The last is a visit on your own accord years later.

The small house you spent your childhood in is falling apart, windows broken, trash in the yard. You find her sitting on the armchair with a hazy expression, TV playing in the corner. She’s in the same exact position as if you never left. You put a blanket over her, but she stirs awake and sees you. She asks to borrow a hundred dollars.

Your mom winds up throwing a dirty plate your way when you give her twenty. It’s all you have on you.

You don’t realize the significance of what Mrs. Jung’s done for you until years later after you’ve long graduated elementary. So you visit her during High School with a thank you card and a bouquet of flowers. She’s gotten old by then, but she still remembers. She cries and hugs you tight. It feels comforting. And her hand brushes against the strands of your baby blue locks.

Grandma helps you grow out your hair again and is one of the people who help you become comfortable in it. By university, you’ve discarded your wigs in favour of your real hair that’s gotten luscious and shiny. Your friends think it's the coolest thing they’ve ever seen and some people approach you to tell you they love it and ask where you got it done.

You tell them it’s your soulmate gift.

Throughout the years, you pick at the ends of your hair and keep track of its changes in your diary. It becomes a habit to play with your hair, to memorize the shade it morphs to. You find that during the winter seasons, your hair becomes white often. One day, it turns white twenty six times.

On Valentine’s Day one year, your hair stays solid pink the whole day. And on another, it’s black for an entire week in April.

You start to hypothesize on the data you collect, noting the frequency of the hair colour changes, of each shade. You suspect hues of yellow signify happiness, reds are anger, blues are sadness, white is when your soulmate is cold. You’re not so sure about the others—

“Y/N.”

Seokjin is leaning on your cubicle as you shut your journal, having recorded your hair turning into a shade of lilac.

“Boss man wants to see you.”

Your eyes widen and you stumble up, pushing your small office chair back. “What for?”

The man shrugs. “Beats me. I wouldn’t worry about it though. It’s not like he’s going to fire you………..right?”

Seokjin grins, but his joke only spurs more nerves on you.

You get to the door, smooth out your pencil skirt and with a deep breath, you knock.

“Come in.”

“You wanted to see me, Mr. Min?”

You step inside his office, finding him looking into a small table mirror at his desk. He’s peering at his left eye and bats his lash several times. But then he sets the mirror down and looks at you.

“Yes, please take a seat.”

You clear your throat and sit in the chair across from him. The mirror is propped up in your direction, and you notice how your hair turns into a shade of monotone gray. It starts at the roots, bleeding downwards until all the strands have altered completely.

You pipe up, “If this is about the Jeon files, sir, I already redid them.”

“No, that’s not it.” He rubs his left eye that’s watering and then blinks. “Actually, I wanted to have a conversation about this for a while. Joy was supposed to talk to you about this, but she’s busy at the moment.”

Joy from HR.

You’re immediately on alert. “Yes, sir.”

Mr. Min says, “It’s about your hair.”

Oh.

He rubs his eye and then clasps his hands together on top of his desk. “Recently, we received a customer complaint that your hair was unprofessional.”

“It’s my soulmate gift.”

“Yes. I know. You mentioned it during your interview. But it still could be considered a distraction in the workplace.”

The word ‘distraction’ has a muscle by your brow jumping. It makes you practically bristle as déjà vu washes over you. But you aren’t ten anymore. You don’t have to be afraid.

You straighten. “With all due respect, I don’t think it’s a requirement for me to have to change my hair. This is out of my control….sir.”

Suddenly, your hair turns a faint hue of red.

Mr. Min’s brow raises as if he didn’t expect you to be so difficult. “It’s part of the rules to have business appropriate attire in the office.”

“Attire yes, but there is nothing referring to hair,” you quietly assert.

His jaw shifts and he leans back into his seat. “Well, we’ll have to confirm if that’s true with HR—”

“I already did,” you interrupt him with a meek smile and as an afterthought, you add, “sir.”

Your hair turns a stronger shade of red. From pastel to a raspberry. Your pupils flicker to the mirror on his desk and your brows furrow as you notice it.

Mr. Min breaks you out of your trance and you redirect your attention to him again. “Is it impossible to make it less of a distraction?” he asks while rubbing his eye that’s tearing up again.

“If it becomes a requirement for me to wear wigs to work every day and not an expectation for others, sir, then the company should pay for it, put it on for me each morning and help me maintain it.” Your hair turns a stronger shade of red — crimson — as Mr. Min rubs his eye more incessantly. You add, “With all due respect, I don’t consider my hair a distraction at all. It is out of my control and it isn’t my fault if others are distracted. It has to do with their attention span.”

He stands. “That’s enough.”

At the same time, from his watered eye, you see something fall out.

You point. “Umm, sir…”

“Shit,” he mutters underneath his breath and looks to the carpet. You stand there for a delayed second before deciding to help him. You round his desk and descend to the ground where he is. All he says is, “It’s a contact lens.”

It’s a surprise to you considering you didn’t know he wore them.

But you quickly spot the transparent half-sphere. “Oh, it’s over there. By your foot.”

Mr. Min frowns. “Where?”

He looks up to see where you’re pointing. Your faces are inches away and instantly your eyes widen. A quiet gasp leaves your lungs. Not because of your close proximity but because Mr. Min’s iris is a fading red. And as confusion takes you, it morphs into a shade of gray.

Blooming outwards from his pupil, colour swirling into place.

“Your eye…” you murmur.

He mumbles, “It’s a soulmate gift.”

Yoongi grabs the brown colour contact lens, cursing at how it’s gotten dirty. But before he can get up, your hands latch onto his wrist, fingers digging into his skin and you tell him, “Wait.”

“What?”

There’s an unquenchable thirst to test the hypothesis that’s dawned upon you.

So when your hair starts to turn into gray as well, you surge forward on sheer intuition. And you kiss your boss, Min Yoongi. Your lips press against his, enough to register how soft and velvet his mouth is, long enough to feel his vanilla chapstick transfer onto your lips. But it’s a chaste peck. Shy and hesitant. And you pull away just as quickly.

Yoongi falls back on his butt with eyes nearly falling out of their sockets.

Immediately, you look over to the mirror on his desk. Your hair is turning from gray to red with faint streaks of cotton candy pink.

You gaze back at Yoongi to find his iris is peony pink.

“D-Did you just kiss me?!”

“Umm, sir, with all due respect, I believe you’re my soulmate.”

The words to dawn upon him. For the first time, your strands of hair morphs into a soft, pastel pink and his irises match the same shade.

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #bts drabble #yoongi angst #yoongi fanfic #yoongi reader insert #yoongi fluff #maso-cxhi #HOPEFULLY this is sufficient #it was definitely hard to balance out some extreme angst while also delivering some fluff lol

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