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fairyoftbz · 3 years

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a rewritten faith | l. juyeon

🪕 pairing: bartender! reader x cow-boy! juyeon 🪕 word count: 4k 🪕 genre: western! au, 1920s!au kinda?, angst to fluff 🪕 tw: mentions of violence, guns, fights, close death experience, deceased father, false accusations, swear words, the reader has some trauma 🪕 synopsis: you are the owner of the local saloon and something usual will happen, but it will take an unexpected turn. 🪕 a/n: i had this idea while watching a western film with my dad and i hope it's not gonna be too bad... 🪕 requested: no

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Your head turned to look at the entrance as the swing doors of the saloon burst open, two sergeants dragging another man inside, his face and body littered in bruises and cuts. He winced in pain as they shoved him against the counter not far from you, both giving him a hard slap at the back of the skull. With an attentive eye, you kept on polishing your whiskey glass with your used piece of cloth, watching everybody’s attention drawn towards the three men.

“You bloody bastard! Did you really think that you would get away with that? Raising your voice at Sir Landfield and seducing his daughter to use her for your own needs? Who did you think you were, the sheriff?” the entire pub erupted into a coarse laugh, some men hitting their pistol against the wooden tables to express their mockery. You, along with the waitresses, were the only ones to remain silent, your eyes darkening as you kept on drying your glasses. “I never touched Sir Landfield’s dau-” “Enough, bastard!” one of them yelled and punched him in the face, blood now oozing from the young man’s nose as his head swung to the side at the violence of the blow. He stumbled on the right, his wounded hand quickly grabbing the counter to prevent him from falling.

The church bells rang as it announced another hour of the day, the wind shifting some dirt and sand off the ground. Quickly glancing outside, you noticed a convoy drawn by horses walking down the main street, their whinnying getting louder as the man guiding them whipped their back and sides sharply.

“Gentlemen. What did your good-for-nothing do to our town? And what brings y’all in my father’s saloon?” you asked, the attention shifting from the culprit to you. You arched a brow as you slid the whisky glass you’ve just finished cleaning and another one across the counter, walking over the liquors to fill it for the men with their habitual orders.

“Ah,” one of them grunted. “This bastard thought he was the best in town and started arguing with Lord Landfield over some laws. He threatened him and even tried to get into his daughter’s panties!” one of them shouted as you poured alcohol into their glasses, noticing an arrogant smile plastered on his face. You didn’t like where this was going.

The culprit raised his eyes at you from his stool and observed you working, your orbs boring into his for a quick second before looking away to grab another bottle of liquor.

“Well, I’m pretty sure he had some good reasons to speak his mind to the mayor. Does he have a name?” you smirked as you placed a glass of herbal liquor in front of the soon-to-be-dead gentleman. He thanked you by a brief nod, and his face contorted into a grimace as he rose his glass to his lips, downing the drink in one go.

“He deserves to be hung by the balls, he’s from the Lees! Lee Juyeon! No one touches the mayor’s daughter like that except her husband!” the man on the left banged his fist onto the wooden counter, making everyone applaud and raise their glass at the idea.

Of course, you disagreed with their horrendous methods, but who were you to counter. Since you didn’t want to be the next in line, hung and burnt alive, you preferred to keep your mouth shut and observe.

“I never touched her!” exclaimed the-said Lee Juyeon but was quick to get shut up. “You don’t get to speak up, you piece of shit! If I said that you touched her, you did, end of the story!” Another man threw his fist right into the apparent lawbreaker’s nose, who immediately wiped his blood-spattered face on the side of his dirty shirt and spat on the floor.

You could tell that Juyeon was surprised by everyone’s agreement, trying his best to hide the fear in his eyes by clutching his jaw. One of the stablemen left the pub for a quick second before coming back, holding a long, white rope with a dirty smile on his face. Faces lit up in delight when he skilfully threw it in the air and swirled it around one of the massive wooden joists before tying a slipknot on the other end. The young man’s hand clutched around his glass, and he stared at you, noticing a hint of despair behind his two dark brown orbits.

You’ve seen many men and women in his state, but for once, you spotted something different. Sincerity, pain, and hopelessness could be observed in this man’s behaviour. He looked like he couldn’t hurt a fly, but you also knew that men were good at lying and being pitied when it was needed. However this time, for some reasons, you felt your heart pinch at the visible fear daunting the cowboy.

The men of law sat down at a table near the swinging doors and lit up their cigars thanks to the waitress’ matches, only to slap her butt as a thank-you. She giggled like a teen girl, which made you even more sickened by the situation than you already were, many people emptying the saloon in fear of witnessing death.

“Oi bastard, are you thinking of a way to shag the bartender before your sentence? She’s pretty cute, right?” one of the officers yelled as the delinquent’s eyes lingered on your working figure. You sent them a death glare, and they elbowed each other with a dirty grin, the idea of shooting them between the eyes titillated your mind for a quick second. “Try not to get us thrown out, she can be pretty rough, just like her father,” you heard them snicker, and you turned around to sigh and roll your eyes, trying not to get arrested either by ‘disrespecting’ them, even if it looked really tempting.

Abruptly, the oldest officer pushed a chair with his foot towards the young man, puffing some smoke out of his mouth, the action leaving a greyish trail lingering above their bald, dirty-minded heads. The stableman grabbed the man from the counter and forced him to get on the chair before shoving his head inside the slipknot and tightened it.

Exhaling sharply as it already happened too many times since your father passed away and bequeathed the saloon to you, you closed your eyes and looked away, mentally cursing the sheriff for choosing your tavern for doing such horrible acts of what they called ‘justice’.

“So, Lee, any last words before we shoot you in the head?” one of the officers insolently said as he expertly swirled his pistol in his hand, his other holding the cigar close to his mouth. From where you were, you could see the culprit gritting his teeth, trying to remain neutral.

“No, I don’t. Because I have done anything wrong, except expressing my honest opinion to the sheriff. And, as much as you want me to, I never laid a finger on his daughter,” the man spat confidently, only to have the two officers and some other men around the saloon unpleasantly shaking their heads.

“I can’t believe it. Even at the edge of death, he’s still willing to lie,” locking the cylinder before lowering the hammer of his revolver, the officer pointed his weapon towards the young man, who stayed as still as possible.

Everyone stared at the scene with intensity, some drinking their liquors or taking puffs of cigars like they were watching and enjoying some entertainment. The culprit was staring intensely at the officers, making them understand that he wasn’t scared of the gun nor facing death. You, on the other hand, were exhausted of those illegal actions and atrocious scenes that already happened when your father was still from this world. Luckily, he always made sure to give you to the tailor next door when such things happened, but it wasn’t really helpful since you became responsible for the aftermath at a very age.

They weren’t the ones that got rid of the dead bodies they shot inside your establishment, they weren’t the ones crazily rubbing the dirt and dried blood off the wooden counter or ventilating the building to get rid of the gory, metallic smell lingering around, nor were they the ones getting scared and sick of working in such sordid conditions. Some graphic execution scenes were still lingering in your mind even years later and shocking you to the point of getting sick and wobbly for a few days, getting flashbacks of the gun firing off. No matter how many people you saw dying in the saloon or while walking around town after witnessing some settling of scores, you would never get used to this sleazy, corrupted method of getting rid of people.

And this case was the last straw. You could not handle another bloody situation, where people would be cheering and happily exiting the saloon as if nothing happened, leaving you mortified and scarred for the nth time behind.

As the sergeant was about to pull the trigger, you were swift to get out your dad’s revolver from the small compartment under the counter and shoot the wooden beam in two precise bullets. The waitresses shrieked and the rest of the souls populating the saloon flinched, hands going to protect their head and ears. You shot the wood three other times to make some dust and pieces fall to confuse everyone, hiding some bullets in your corset before going around the counter and grab the man by the sleeve. Among all the panicked people trying to rush out of the saloon, you dragged the man out through the back door, letting one of the waitresses take the control of the saloon.

“Come on, we don’t have a lot of time!” you said out of breath, the muddy ground staining the pans of your dress with a dark brown colour. The man looked still shocked to have narrowly dodged death, catching his breath as your hands were fumbling with the knot keeping your horse close to the wall. Seizing the reins with a soft yet skilled hold, you were quick to slide your foot in the stirrup and swing your leg over the beast, extending your hand for the man to take it.

He messily placed his foot on the wooden fence and jumped behind you, his hand still in yours as the fence collapsed under his weight. You felt his jerky breaths fanning your neck as you commanded the horse to race off.

“Ya! Ya!” you angrily yelled, repeatedly squeezing your legs around the horse for it to go faster as you heard some gravelly voices lingering around the saloon. Your horse neighed and picked up the pace, its hooves hammering the dried ground of the main street as you bolted out of the town. “Lower your head, we need to go faster!” you yelled and the man obeyed, your heart pulsating in your temples as you heard some screams and people opening fire towards you, bullets going through a few wooden wains from the neighbouring houses.

“Sorry about the fence,” the man whispered and you shook your head, eyes still focused on the dusty road. “That’s the least of my worries right now. Hold onto me instead so we can lose them faster,” you spat and whipped the reins on the horse’s neck, the man’s large hands landing onto your waist. “What’s your name, by the way?” he yelled so his voice wouldn’t be covered by the horse’s noises, and you slightly turned your head to the side. “Y/N,” You simply answered, trying to ignore his hands on you as he was accused of inappropriately touching the mayor’s daughter and pushed your feet down the stirrups as you went up a hill.

The town was quick to disappear behind you as you hurried into the taiga, following the winding trail as fast as possible. The lawbreaker was still holding onto your waist, his hold strengthening as you didn’t seem to be ready to slow down anytime soon. The concentrated look on your face didn’t subside at all, sometimes looking back to make sure that you weren’t being followed.

Your heart skipped a beat as your horse jumped over the railway line, his hooves toughly landing on the floor as the way started going downhill again, the man behind you hitting his chin against your shoulder due to the force of the impact. He mumbled a quick apology, but you didn’t even hear it, the wind blowing in your ears preventing any sound to reach you.

You finally ordered the horse to slow down as you reached another dense forest, the air feeling chiller as the sun was struggling to get through the infinite branches of sharpened pine needles. You and Juyeon kept your head low, the latter pushing his hat further onto his head to protect his already severely injured face from the spiky needles. He let out a small hum of surprise when you reached a small cottage with a wide range of greenery surrounding it, not expecting someone to live here. The air was so pure and fresh that it almost hurt your lungs, with no sign of tobacco smoke or dust from the road to poison your inner organs.

Getting off the horse, you drew the gun out of your corset and removed the bullets, tossing the revolver on a lonely stump. The man recoiled at the sight of the weapon, but instantly relaxed as you went behind the cottage. He grunted in pain as he got off the horse, giving it a gentle tap and rub its muzzle. It snorted quickly and turned around, walking further into the greenery to relax from the intensive workout you went through.

When you came back, the cottage key in hand, your gaze fell on the man leaning against a trunk, dried blood and cuts still covering his face. His bottom lip was split open, and his cheekbones were bruised, eyes bloodied by the dust and the several hits he received from the men of law. You sighed as you stared at him, hand sliding in the key and unlock the door.

“Come in,” you said as you pushed the door open, walking across the room to draw the curtains out.

Juyeon slowly limped inside, eyes travelling around the small living room, falling straight on a chair after placing your dad’s revolver on the table, the wood creaking under the collision. He groaned in pain and closed his eyes tightly, his jaw twitching as he suffered in silence.

You gave him some privacy and walked to the kitchen, getting some wood planks and a bunch of herbs and weeds from one of the cabinets. Just like your dad had taught you, you lit up a fire in the chimney and hung a small cauldron to the chain. You stood back up, the room getting filled with a heavy silence, not really sure of how to act with a possible criminal in your secret home. He sighed and groaned in pain many times as you prepared a brew and some lukewarm water to freshen up.

His worried eyes met yours as you heavily placed a wooden basin with steaming water on the table next to him, your hands sinking a piece of cloth in the warm water and twisting it.

“Take off your shirt, I need to clean and check your wounds,” you monotonously said, and the man’s hands hovered above his top, hesitantly undoing the first few buttons while looking outside.

He gulped as he exposed his torso to you, your eyes widening in shock for a quick second at the state of it. He got beaten up severely, red, and purple areas already littering his entire thorax. The bruises looked excruciating and probably caused some inner injuries, hence his unnatural movements.

You quickly pulled his shirt away from his body and ditched it on the table, eyes now wandering around his arms. He was pretty muscular – you couldn't neglect the steel-craved abs embellishing his torso – but the cuts and wounds were critical enough to damage the view.

Starting by cleaning his wounds and body with the piece of cloth, Juyeon tried his best to remain still, but it got intolerable at some point. He started hissing and cursing – not at you, he was grateful that you were willing to put yourself in danger to save and take care of him – but more in pain, his eyes flooding with anger as he recalled the sergeants’ faces and their accusations.

“You know,” the man started through gritted teeth before groaning as the piece of cloth grazed against a sensitive laceration on his collarbone, “I didn’t touch the sheriff’s daughter. I'd never touch a woman like that despite what they want everyone to believe,” you quickly looked at him in the eyes and chuckled, your hand delicately grasping his wrist to lift his arm to clean the residues of the cut on the side of the torso.

“I think it’s impossible for you to do so,” your voice trailed as you focused on your task, the man questioningly looking at you. “How so?” “She’s on the other side of the world, probably a thousand miles away from us. Serena is a successful woman, she’s sacred to her father. You probably saw her mother strutting around town like she’s the next queen, which is something quite ridiculous but funny at the same time. Serena is the pride of the family because she got married to an Australian businessman and is now living like a good middle-class person, you know?” his eyes widened as you explained everything to him, his tongue clicking in frustration.

“Lies? I became the scapegoat of those assholes for lies?” you defeatedly sighed and shrugged as the man was furrowing his brows, getting upset. “Welcome to our town, I guess. It is how we, no they, make the peace reign there. We all know that nobody shouldn’t mess with the mayor, but I guess that you are not from here, so you miserably fell into his trap,” you offered him a compassionate smile and carried on with cleaning him, wiping your damp hands on your dress as you got back to the fireplace.

You came back with the cauldron, hands enveloped in the wet piece of cloth as you gently plunged it in the water, Juyeon flinching at the steam surfacing from the warm-cold impact. Your eyes focused on the plant-based mixture you had prepared to heal and sanitise his injuries, following your grandma’s textbook to the letter.

Juyeon groaned again at the warm solution being applied on his body, feeling his skin itch and burn as you kept rubbing the product in. He looked up as you focused on your task, now rubbing his arm while holding his limb with a certain grace. On your face, he could discern some sadness and exhaustion hidden in your features, his mind wandering to what possibly happened to you to be in this situation.

“And you?” he started with a more hesitant voice as if he was scared to frighten a deer, “what made you the bartender of this saloon?” your hand quickly stopped working but resumed almost instantly, but Juyeon noticed.

“Owner,” you corrected, and his eyes widened, an impressed look painted on his face, “I am the only survivor in my family, they all died from sickness or old age. I became the owner of the saloon as soon as my father passed away. He was in this horrible business, letting the authorities do their dirty work inside the bar, away from prying, curious eyes. Of course, since I am a woman and is only good at taking care of children and clean, they keep coming here no matter how many times I refused. I, fortunately, didn’t have to witness every single execution when I was young, but it still sends me into anxiety fits when it happens. I’ve seen a lot of people going through what you’ve just escaped from and it’s almost impossible to get rid of the flashbacks,” you briefly explained, feeling the tears well up in your throat at the mention of your deceased father and harrowing trauma, but you swallowed thickly and repressed your emotions, keeping a neutral face.

“S-Sorry, I didn’t mean it,” he mumbled, and you shook your head, wetting your hands in the basin to quickly get rid of any remaining substance. “It’s fine,” you emotionlessly said, hurrying back in the kitchen to get some time alone.

Juyeon didn’t mean to hurt you by stirring some hurtful memories, but of course, curiosity killed the cat. Thanks to you, he had escaped his humiliating death sentence, and all he did was unintentionally pressing the wrong buttons. Agonisingly, he gritted his teeth and closed his eyes as he got up, the room slightly spinning as he limped towards the kitchen to come to you. Your shoulders were heaving up and down as you attempted to muffle your cries and silence your emotions, not wanting to break down in a room with a man other than your father. It was one rule that you forced yourself to follow, not wanting to appear weak to anyone's eyes.

“I’m sorry, it wasn’t my intention to hurt you like that,” his cavernous voice resonated against the walls of the empty kitchen, making you wince and quickly wipe your face with trembling hands before turning around. “How could you know?” you said with puffy eyes, the sight squeezing Juyeon’s heart as you tried to give him what was supposed to be a reassuring smile. He slowly walked to you and took a gentle hold of your trembling wrists, his chocolate orbs boring into your own. The gaze that you had found quite intimidating a few minutes ago when he was angry against his attackers currently held something completely different. It wasn’t pity as you were used to when you brought up your past, but something more like compassion and tenderness.

“Y/N. I know I'm a complete stranger and a criminal in your eyes, but I wanna help you the way you did for me,” he started, and you stared at the ground, trying to get off his grip. “I don’t need help,” you mumbled, but he didn’t let you go, the grasp around your forearms tightening but still felt consoling.

“Yes, yes you do. Withdrawing yourself into silence won't solve anything, it will only give prominence to your sadness and scars and prevent you from moving on. You don't have anyone to talk to about it anymore, you keep everything to yourself and stay stuck in this state of distress. You helped me avoid death and run away, so let me assist you in breaking away from your past. At least allow me to try,” he whispered those words to you as if he was afraid someone else would hear.

Tears blurred your vision, something that didn't ordinarily happen when the discussion topic was your father. You always managed to hold back your tears, but for reasons that were still unknown to you, with Juyeon, it was like your brain allowed him to see your raw, true side for some reason, despite knowing him for less than an hour. Maybe it was the fact that he wasn’t from your town and wouldn’t be telling your secrets to anyone else to cause you harm or humiliation.

“One trauma at a time. You need to get some rest first,” you countered his argument by guiding him out of the kitchen, and Juyeon let out a chuckle, frustrated that you cared more about his well-being than yours. “Very well then, but promise me you'll let me help,” he asked as you walked him into the rocking seat where your grandfather used to take his nap when he was still in your life.

"We'll see," you whispered, helping him to sit down before giving him a small smile. He let go of one of your wrists and lifted your hand to his face, placing a kiss on the back of your hand while never breaking eye contact, the action of chivalry making your heart skip a beat.

"Thank you for everything you have done for me," He mumbled before kissing your hand again, his damaged lips curving into a smile as you let your hand linger in his, against his mouth.

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yusuke-of-valla · 3 years

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Two Knights' Tango

Whumptober Day 1 Prompt: "You Have To Let Go"

Summary: Akechi remebers the truth of their current reality.

Word Count: 1303

TW: Cursing, Third Semester Bad End, Akechi being Akechi

AO3

Ren knows that his plans for a peaceful evening with his friends are ruined the second Goro walks in with that smile on his face.

It’s been a while since Goro -- no, Akechi, he is Akechi right now -- has put on that mask. A smile like daggers that doesn’t reach his eyes, his whole body tense with rage at everyone around him. He takes his usual seat at the counter and stares at Ren expectantly.

Ren, uninterested in having this conversation, takes his time making his coffee.

“What do you think?” Ren asks, passing a mug down to Akechi. A floating facsimile of how Morgana used to look smiles up at him, and Akechi makes a face that gives Ren the hilarious mental image of the Detective Prince punching a mug. “Yusuke’s been helping me practice latte art. It’s not as good as his but--”

“What the hell do you think is going on here?” Akechi growls.

“Well it’s Thursday, so we’re chatting before our usual study session with--”

Akechi grabs Ren by the shirt and pulls him close so their faces are inches apart. Despite knowing better, Ren can’t help but hope Akechi will claw his eyes out or something. Really let loose this time.

Instead Akechi lets him go after a second. “Why did you take the deal?” he asks.

Ren locks eyes with him. “Because otherwise you’d die, idiot, and despite what you think I should do, I care about your life.”

“Oh you care,” Akechi spits out. “Of course, that’s why you’ve forced us all to stay in this make believe world you and that damned doctor have cooked up.”

“I mean Maruki does most of the work,” Ren says, “I just play along.”

Akechi slams his fist on the table. “How are you so damn calm about this? Changing people against their will, forcing them to live a life you decided for them? What happened to the righteous leader of the Phantom Thieves?”

“I thought you hated that guy.”

“I will stab you.”

“Couldn’t even if you actually wanted to.”

“Oh yeah? Try me.”

“No,” Ren says, taking a sip out of Akechi’s latte. “You literally can’t. Haven’t you noticed the lack of work, detective?”

“Because Maruki won’t allow it?” Akechi hisses out. “And you’re ok with that?”

Ren shrugs, and Akechi looks legitimately taken about.

“W-what is wrong with you? You don’t even regret it? Sumire is dead because of you. Her heart may be beating but the personality of Sumire, the girl who looked up to you, is gone and replaced with some idealized shadow of a person who never existed. Your friends decided to reject this reality purely because you asked them to, and you just dragged them back-”

“They chose it first,” Ren says with a bitterness he didn’t think he still had. He should probably talk to Maruki about that.

“That’s not what happened and you know it,” Akechi replies. “Maruki never gave anyone a choice. No one except you. ”

“You asked me if I regretted anything?” Ren says. “Of course I do, I regret so many many things. But there’s nothing to be done now.”

“So you’re giving up? You can’t muster the courage to fight Maruki and-”

Ren hates this part.

“Use your fucking brain for once instead of trying to fight all of your problems, Akechi!” Ren snaps. “If this was just Maruki changing the past, this place would be unsustainable. People die, people get hurt, and people hurt each other. Sometimes they hurt each other without malicious intent, which is a bitch because then making everyone happy is impossible and it’s hard to predict when those cases are going to happen. Fixing everything the first time was hard enough, imagine having to do that over and over again with every little issue that could possibly upset someone as time passes.”

Goro’s eyes widen in realization. “So to make sure everything stays perfect Maruki would have to preserve things?””

“Pretty much the only way to do his whole thing without going crazy after the first decade or so.”

Goro takes a breath to steady himself. “And how, exactly, do you know this? Isn’t it just a hypothetical at this poi-”

“How long have you been a third year?”

Akechi opens his mouth to answer automatically, then stops and thinks about it. His hands ball into fists. “How long have we been here? In this reality. How long has this been going on, Ren?” he asks.

Ren shrugs. “Like I told you the last time we had this conversation, I haven’t been inclined to keep track.”

“The last time-- we’ve had this conversation before ?”

“Yep. You don’t exactly take it well, and that pings Maruki and then he, you know” Ren waves his hands in Akechi’s face, “makes you happy.”

Akechi grits his teeth but takes a deep breath. “So how come you remember?”

“Because a long, long time ago I signed a contract that said I’d take full responsibility for my actions,” Ren says, “and I didn’t realize what that really meant. Maruki’s tried to help but I guess there are some things even he can’t do.”

“Then why don’t you try and get back to our own reality?” Akechi asks.

“Because it’s gone. Mementos, it felt huge, but it really only affected Tokyo. I’m sure you’ve figured that out since we’ve only ever heard from targets in the city.”

“Which means Maruki’s reality only affected Tokyo.”

“Finally he puts it together!” Ren applauds.

“Don’t mock me. So while we’ve been here...”

“The rest of the world has moved on. Or destroyed itself. Who really knows. Either way the world we knew is gone,” Ren says, “What if I just condemn everyone to something worse?”

“So you’re just going to hide?”

“I already made a choice to get everyone stuck here. I can’t just change my mind-”

“You already did that when you accepted the deal!”

“And that was a mistake! You want me to just repeat it?” Ren snaps. “God damn it, Akechi. Even if we can break out of here, something that will be much harder than it was back then, who the fuck knows what we’re going back to. Maybe everything’s been destroyed, maybe World War III started. What? You want me to just repeat my mistakes and condemn everyone to something worse?

“It’s not just your choice! Don’t the others deserve a say in which reality they want to live in?”

“They’re fine not knowing. They’re happy either way.” Ren runs a hand through his hair. He’s worked up, again. Why? Why is he always angry when they get to this part? They've had this conversation so many times now -- it never changes -- and it still gets to him. “Just, let go, Goro. Give up on going back. I wish I could.” With that, Ren puts his apron on the counter and heads upstairs, phone out to tell the others to cancel for tonight. “Switch the sign around on your way out.”

“So, he’s not going to help us?” Sumire asks when Goro finishes the recording for the others.

Goro shrugs. “He’s given up. Do the rest of you want to continue without your fearless leader?”

An awkward silence settles over the small laundromat that they’d decided to meet in.

Then Haru steps up, eyes burning. “I will reclaim my future,” she says. “Or die trying.”

Slowly but surely, everyone else agrees. Goro doesn’t dare think about the relief that fills his chest at the thought of the others being willing to help him. They’re allies with a united goal, that's all. Besides, he could have done it without them.

A few feet away, hidden in the branches of the tree, a blue butterfly watches. It feels hope for the first time in a long while.

#whumptober2021 #no.1 #you have to let go #persona 5 #p5r #fic #cursing #alto writes #goro akechi #ren amamiya #shuake #akeshu #more platonic but whatever #word count: 1000-1500 #bad end #'alto how many variations on this are you going to write' AS MANY AS I WANT #queuety and vice

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bibislut · 3 years

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Drink-Addled

Why can't your best friend be your soulmate?

Harry's had too much to drink, that much is clear. So has every other man apparently, because they won't respect Draco's boundaries.

Word count: 1776

--- This work was inspired by @bisexualronaldweasley ---

Read on AO3

Find the rest of my work here

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Harry emerged from the toilets, wiping his damp hands on his jeans. The music thumped loudly around him, shaking the floor as the strobe lights added to the disorientating, heady vibe of the club. He searched the mass of bodies for the last of his friends standing. Hermione, Ron, and Pansy had all retired for the night. Or should he say morning?

Finally, after a minute or two, his gaze landed on a flash of white-silver hair pressed against the wall in the far corner. A broad figure loomed over Draco, speaking into his ear as the Slytherin locked eyes with Harry, flashing them wide in a helpless manner. Harry gritted his teeth, peeved at the amount of self-entitled twats that had ground their desperate bodies against his unwilling friend. Couldn't they take a hint?

He marched through the crowd, narrowly avoiding drinks in his determination. He approached the two steadily, coming up beside them and slinking his arm around Draco’s waist. The broad looked over at him, confused, as Harry pecked the blond's cheek. "Everything alright?"

Draco smiled, placing his hand on Harry’s chest. "Perfect." He mouthed over the music.

The broad shot them both an annoyed look and ambled back into the crowd. Harry dropped his arm as Draco leaned into his ear. "Thanks!" He shouted. Potter shot him a lopsided smile, taking his hand and leading them back out to the dance floor.

The two had been friends for well over a year now, and it was comfortable as they lifted their joined hands above their heads, throwing their heads back and singing along to the music. The two danced the hours away, until the club closed and they found themselves stood on the street, drunken smiles on their faces as they stumbled down the road.

"I can't believe I used to hate you." Harry giggled, his arm linked through Draco’s.

"We were both horrid gits." The blond nodded.

"Oi!"

Draco snorted. "You're gonna act innocent? You-" he jabbed his finger into Harry’s chest, "-were just as guilty as me."

"Stop being right." The darker man grumbled, his hazy gaze landing on a group of people at the end of the street. "Is that..?"

Draco followed his gaze, and cursed. There was his ex and his friends. Panicking, he shoved Harry against the doorway of the nearest shop. "Fuck, shit, bollocks!"

Harry chuckled, his hazy mind cocky with drink. He put his hand on Draco’s face. "Don’t worry, I've got this." He said, pulling him in close. Their lips touched and Draco let out a small gasp. He tasted of mint gum, beer, and the salty sweat of the night. Harry kissed him hard, his arm around his waist. After the initial shock had faded, Draco leant into the kiss, their lips moving together hungrily. They stayed like that for a long moment, bodies pressed together, lips colliding, until the group had walked past. Finally, Draco shoved himself away.

"Oh, Merlin...I…" He trailed off, running his hand through his hair as he stared at Harry, his pink cheeks illuminated by the street light.

"I wish I could have seen his face." Harry chuckled, his drink-addled brain applauding his quick thinking.

“You kissed me!” Draco whisper-shouted.

Harry laughed again. “Was I really that bad?”

“No, it’s just…”

“Come on.” Harry looped his arm through the blond’s and tugged him down the street. They walked in silence for a minute, the darker man completely oblivious to Draco’s frantic thoughts. “Do you wanna stay at mine?”

“At yours?”

“You might as well. It’s closer.”

Draco thought about it for a moment. “Alright.”

They continued on, lips swollen, warm with drink. When they finally reached the flat, Harry dug out a spare set of pajamas and a towel, and left Draco in the spare room. He went through the motions of getting ready for bed, the whole process taking far too long and making him feel nauseous. He downed half a glass of water before climbing into bed and falling into a restless sleep.

Dreams of Draco’s lips chased him relentlessly, only for him to wake up breathless, his legs tangled in the sheets. Each time he woke, he was quickly dragged back under, finding himself once again pressed in the doorway of the shop, pouty pink lips pressed against his. The taste of Draco lingered in his mouth, sweet and bitter all at once.

“Harry.” Dream-Draco mumbled against his lips. The Gryffindor took it as an invitation, diving right back in, pulling him as close as he could.

----

Draco sighed, turning over for what felt like the hundredth time. He couldn’t sleep, his slowly-sobering brain racing around the memory of their kiss. He’d left his school-boy crush behind him long ago, content with their friendship. But all his resolve had come crashing down the moment Harry’s lips touched his. How long had he yearned for this? To finally know what the darker man tasted like, how he felt pressed against him? He groaned into the pillow, his eyes flicking up to the clock on the wall. It was just past 4 in the morning. The kiss had probably meant absolutely nothing to Harry, just another drunken adventure. What was he talking about - probably? He was sure of it.

Draco sighed again, pushing away the covers. He stood up, glancing down at the pajamas that were doing nothing for his sanity. They smelt like Harry, like wood and spice and mint chocolate. He resolved himself to making a cup of tea, padding quietly down the hallway, and stopping just outside his friend’s door. Opening it slowly, he poked his head in.

The Gryffindor was sound asleep, or so Draco thought. Just as he was about to retreat, the other man let out a loud breath, followed by a word: “Draco.”

The blond’s heart stuttered. “Harry?” He whispered. He opened the door further, taking a couple of steps inside. “Harry?” He asked again, louder.

The other man groaned, opening his eyes blearily. “Draco?” He held his hand out and the blond walked forwards to take it. He pulled him in, lifting up the duvet with his other hand. Draco crawled in beside him. “Turn.” Harry grumbled, and he did as he was told, putting his back to him. Apparently, Harry wanted to be big spoon. “Better.” He mumbled, before his breaths quickly fell into a more rhythmic pace.

Draco’s heart was racing, Harry’s body heat behind him only making things worse. They’d never done this before. Never spooned, never even slept in the same bed. He knew it was only because Harry was half asleep, and still probably half drunk, but still his heart was in his throat. Draco listened to his breathing, trying to focus on anything but the growing warmth in his loins. Soon, Harry’s breaths lulled him into a shallow sleep.

-----

Harry woke with a start, letting out a small gasp. His arm was draped over Draco’s waist, his face nestled in his hair. Strangely, he felt almost content, warm and safe, surrounded by Draco’s scent.

What the fuck? Draco was one of his best friends. He hadn’t thought they’d crossed a boundary last night, but his racing heart begged to differ. Harry had never thought of the Slytherin as anything but his friend, though he wasn’t blind to his attributes. Draco was gorgeous, and kind, and made Harry laugh. He even enjoyed their bickering. But why had he pulled him in to bed? Why had he had dreams about them making out? Draco was his friend. Seeing him as something more? He’d never really thought about it.

He hadn’t moved, but he was flustered, and half-hard, and more than a little bit confused. He needed to calm down, cool down. He needed a cold shower. But how could he move? He didn’t want to wake Draco, deal with his questions. He could barely remember pulling him into bed, yet alone why he did it. Oh that’s right, he was too busy dreaming about kissing him. Fuck! What was he gonna do?

He tried to move away as gently and slowly as he could, worried his semi would be too obvious. Maybe Draco was still asleep.

“Harry?”

Maybe not. Harry scrambled away, and Draco turned to face him. He almost looked… hurt. The Gryffindor rubbed at his head, and nodded to the glass on his nightstand. “Can I have that?”

Draco passed it over, looking far too perfect in Harry’s bed. He appeared almost ethereal, the sunlight streaming in through the window illuminating his ruffled white locks, his silver eyes locked on Harry’s throat as he drank. Suddenly, all thoughts of a cold shower went out the window, and all Potter wanted to do was pull him in for a kiss, taste those sweet lips of his.

“I wish I knew what you were thinking.” The blond whispered, and Harry dragged his eyes from his lips up to his eyes to find them watching him sadly.

He looked away with a gulp. “Nothing good.”

Draco leaned towards him, and Harry watched as he put his hand over his. “Last night…”

“Was a mistake.” Harry said quietly, trying to convince himself more than anything else.

“Yes,” Draco agreed, shuffling closer on the bed and using his other hand to grip Harry’s chin, tilting it up towards him. “But I’d make it again,” he whispered, “If only to spend the night in your arms once more.”

Harry could’ve sworn his heart stopped for a moment. He didn’t know what would happen if he kissed Draco, what would happen to their friendship. Hell, he didn’t even know where all these new feelings had come from. All he knew was that it felt right. And if he wanted this, Draco was giving him the opportunity to take it.

He let out a half-hearted chuckle. “Don’t be a sop.”

“Don’t make me a sop, then.” Draco replied lowly, leaning in closer.

This was it. This was the time to back out. But Harry had never been one to back down, and certainly not now, with his stomach full of butterflies for the first time in a long time.

He met Draco’s lips slowly, almost cautiously. He felt so right, and so warm, that Harry let out a little moan, and that’s all it took for Draco to crawl onto his lap, deepening the kiss. Harry wrapped his arms around his waist, their lips crashing together hotly. It felt so good.

As much as Harry could worry about what this would mean for their friendship, it didn’t mean that it had to end. After all, soulmates are best friends first.

#draco malfoy #harry potter #drarry #draco x harry #harry x draco #fic #fanfic #first kiss #fake relationship #clubbing

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justthehiddleswrites · 3 years

Text

Late to the Party | Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Summary: Reader is running late for Tom's big event and Tom is mad about it. He will make sure the reader is punished for her behavior before the night is through.

Warnings: Smut, Spanking, dom!Tom, Vaginal Sex, Aftercare, Possessive Tom, Light BDSM, Punishment

“Shit!” you hissed under your breath as you slammed the door behind you. You rushed to the bathroom, throwing your clothes off. You would clean up later. You were late. Very late. The kind of late the White Rabbit from Alice in Wonderland spoke about.

Two months into your relationship with Tom, and this was the first big event together. Tom imparted upon you not to be late. And now you were due at his house in ten minutes and you were just stepping into the shower. “Fuck!” you snapped as you stepped out of the car and saw Tom standing at his door waiting for you thirty minutes later.

Tom looked at his watch, exchanging scowls between you and the time. He placed a terse kiss on your cheek as he grabbed your elbow with a sharp yank.

“Ow.” you exclaimed as he led you to the car. Tom pushed into the seat and slammed the door shut before walking to take his place at the steering wheel.

He started the car and took off in complete silence. You waited until Tom got well into the drive before clearing your throat and looking over at Tom. His hands gripped the wheel so tight his knuckles turned pale.

“Thirty minutes.” he said in a cool even tone.

“I can…” you stuttered. His cold tone unrecognizable to you. Tom showed only affection before.

“Thirty minutes!” Tom shouted, his face turning red. “How can you possibly explain thirty minutes?!”

You stared at the floor for a moment. “I lost track of time when I met with a friend. I didn’t mean to be late.”

“You LOST TRACK!” he bellowed as his nostrils flared. “You knew how important today is for me and how important being on time and there is nothing you can say to make that right.”

Tears pricked your eyes. The car came to a stop and Tom jerked his door open. He stomped around the car and pulled your door open. He leaned in to help you out of the car.

“I will deal with you later tonight.” he sneered through gritted teeth, “Let’s get through the rest of tonight first.”

You gulped as Tom pulled you from your seat and snaked his arm around your waist, pulling you tight against his side. The two of you climbed the stairs to the building. A young man at the top of the stairs paced the doorway. His eyes lit up as Tom came into sight.

“Mr. Hiddleston!” he started as he shook Tom’s hand. “We have been waiting for you.”

Tom shot a glare in your direction. “Sorry about that. I was unavoidably detained.”

Your cheeks heated.

“They told me to take you backstage as soon as you arrived.” the man continued, “If your date continues inside, my colleague will get her seated.”

Tom gave a small nod of the head to the man and release you from his vise-like grip.

You hustled inside as the young man ushered Tom down a hallway. Another young man led you to a large ballroom set up like an auditorium. He led you to a seat towards the front. As you sat down, the lights dimmed in the room.

A man walked up to the podium. “Thank you all for your patience. Please allow me to introduce our guest of honor, Tom Hiddleston!”

Tom walked onto the stage to thunderous applause. He threw you a small wink as he stood behind the microphone.

“Thank you all for waiting on me tonight.” the audience clapped. “I assure you, the people responsible for my tardiness will be punished.”

The audience laughed while Tom shot you a knowing face and you furrowed your brow at Tom’s comment. What did he mean punished? you wondered as Tom continued on.

You tried to concentrate on Tom’s speech but your mind continued to drift to Tom’s comment, and you squirmed in your seat but you stopped when Tom caught your eye and narrowed his glance at you.

Before long, Tom wrapped up, and the audience applauded. He headed off stage and the young man who ushered you to your seat pointed you towards the reception area.

As you made your way to the bar, you scanned the room for Tom but there was no sign. You sidled up to the bar and placed an order for a glass of wine. An arm snaked around your waist as the bartender handed you the glass.

“I would suggest something stronger.” Tom whispered in your ear.

You giggled as you turned your head to peer at him.

“What did you have in mind?” you giggled.

Tom’s smile dropped and his eyes darkened for a moment. “Punishment, darling. You made me late.”

Your mouth opened to respond when someone came up to speak to Tom. As quickly as his face darkened, a smile splashed across his face.

The entire evening, Tom kept you close to his side. His hands gripped your waist as though you might escape with hands migrating every so often to splay across your butt cheek. His nails dug into the flesh, enough to sting but not leave a mark.

By the time the two of you left the event, you felt both aroused by Tom’s public displays of affection and anxious by his comments. The ride back to Tom’s home seemed awkward as tension hung in the air. Once you pulled up to the house, you didn’t wait for Tom to open your door.

“Sorry again, honey. I guess I will call it a night.” you called to Tom as you headed to your car.

“Where do you think you are going?” Tom snapped as he slammed the door shut and stomped towards you.

Your brows furrowed in contemplation, wracking your brain for something you forgot. Tom stared you down as he approached you.

“Wait! I remember!” you squealed as you pulled up onto your toes to kiss him on his lips. Tom pressed into you as his arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer.

“Call you tomorrow?” you asked pulling away. Tom nodded.

You turned and headed towards your car but Tom held tight onto your wrist.

“We’re not done here, darling. Get inside.” Tom jerked you towards his house.

“Why?” you stuttered.

Tom leaned in behind you, grabbing handfuls of your ass. “Because your ass is going to be seven shades of red after that little stunt tonight.” he hissed into your ear.

“What!?” you shrieked. Tom glanced around to see if anyone heard you and dragged you into the house. The door slammed behind him and he flicked the lock shut.

“Get upstairs. Take off the dress, leave the underwear. Sit on the bed.” he demanded.

You scrambled up the stairs as his tone left no room for negotiation. You stripped as soon as passed the door and sat on the edge of the bed, hands fiddling at your side. After several minutes, Tom came through the door. He looked at you through narrow eyes.

“So, pet…” Tom popped the “p” in the word. “You have been awfully naughty tonight. Making me late for an important event.” He tsked his tongue as he pulled suit jacket off, hanging it up in the closet. “Whatever am I to do with you?”

You watched with wide eyes as he unbuttoned the cuffs of his dress shirt. With precision, he rolled up each sleeve exposing his toned forearms; you bit your lip to suppress the moan building in your throat. Tom looked at you with expectation.

“I’m waiting for an answer.”

Tom’s words jolted you back to reality. “Um… punish me?” you ended the sentence on an up note.

Tom smirked. “That’s right, love. And how do we punish naughty girls?” He moved to sit in an armchair nestled in the corner, his legs splayed as always.

He rubbed his hands together and beckoned you to sit with him. You rose and walked over in timid steps, uncertain of what will happen next. Your senses on high alert. Tom patted his thigh, and you sat down, more hovering on his leg. Tom’s warm hand rubbed up and down your back, sending shocks of electricity through you. He leaned in and placed soft kisses on your cheek, lips and neck. You let a deep sigh out and your shoulders relaxed. Tom smiled at you and then in a flash, spun you around in his lap and before you realized what happened, you laid across Tom’s thighs, ass on display.

“Now for your spanking…” Tom quipped as his hands rubbed your ass through your underwear, warming the skin.

“What!” you attempted to squirm out of his grip but he held you tight.

“Stop squirming and take your punishment or you will force me to tie you down.” You settled down. “Now… for a first offense, how many strikes? Twenty?” You laid there in silence, too scared to say anything. “I think ten should be sufficient. Do you agree?” You nodded. “I can’t hear you.”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes, sir.”

Tom chuckled as he pushed his sleeves up further. “That’s my girl, now count out each strike, my love.” With no further warning, Tom’s hand cracked against your right cheek.

“One.” you whimpered as the pain radiated through your body.

Another crack to the other side. “Two.”

CRACK! The third strike hitting your lower ass where it meets your thigh. By this time, the assault brought your arousal alive. “Three.” you groaned.

Tom smiled at the change in your voice. His hand hit in a swift motion.

“Four.”

The next four strikes came in rapid succession, with barely enough time for you count each strike. Your ass burned like fire at this point. Tears streamed down your face from both pain and pleasure and you gushed between your legs. You opened and closed your legs against Tom’s thigh, desperate to find relief and friction.

“Almost done, darling.” Tom chuckled at the sight of you. He could see the skin reddening under your thin panties and the wet spot grew larger by the second. He licked his lips and shifted in his seat, his own arousal growing uncomfortable.

You fell limp against his legs, unable to resist the onslaught. Tom ripped your underwear down to your knees and you gasped. Your red skin shone in the room’s light and Tom groaned at the sight.

CRACK! “Nine.” you whimpered, your voice hoarse.

“Your ass is exquisite in red, darling.” Tom commented. You looked at the ground, unable to see the twinkle in Tom’s eye.

The last swat hit directly upon your glistening sex and toppled you over the edge. You screamed in pleasure. You forgot to count, but Tom let it slide. Tom held your body firm against his legs as you came down from your orgasm. He wrapped his arms around you and lifted you up placing you on your back on the bed. Your backside burned, but you didn’t care.

“Darling, look at the mess you made.” Tom gestured to the wet spot on his trouser. He undid them and pulled both his trousers and underwear down to his ankles. His cock erect and leaking pre-cum. Tom took himself into his hand and pumped a few times.

“Fuck!” you panted at the sight of him.

Tom winked. “As you wish.”

Tom crawled onto the bed and propped himself above you. You winced at the pressure of your backside with Tom’s weight, so Tom flipped you so he lied on the bed and you straddled him. He teased the tip against your folds.

“Tom… please.” you begged as you lined yourself up. Tom held you up for a moment, a bruising grip against your hips. In a single thrust, he sheathed himself within you.

“Gods! You are perfection!” Tom groaned as your arousal and warmth surrounded him. He bucked his hips into you, spurring you to rock on his cock.

“Nhnnmhmm.” you moaned as a second orgasm stirred inside you. Tom continued to thrust deep into you, pressing against your g-spot each time.

“That’s it darling, let go. Cum for me.” Tom pleaded, his fingers snaking down to tease your clit. You gasped at the added stimulation.

After a few moments, you orgasmed again. “God… Tom… Fuck!” you exclaimed as you clenched around Tom.

“Y/N!” Tom cried as he released his release, thrusting one final time into you. You collapsed onto Tom’s chest. He slid his hands up and down your back. When his hands ventured onto your ass, you winced.

“Sore, love?” Tom asked, his eyes filled with concern.

You nodded.

“How does a nice bath sound?” he kissed your forehead as he slipped out of you and rolled you off of him. He stood and walked to the bathroom, starting the water in the tub.

You groaned as you rolled onto your side, unable to lift your head or move your arms. The pain from your backside started to radiate into your legs. Tom was not gentle with his punishment. You felt his strong arms lift from the bed and carry you into the tub. The warm water soothed your aching flesh.

“How’s my good girl?” Tom asked as he wet a washcloth.

“Good.” you gave a wink.

Tom gave a devilish grin. “Good to know.”

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston smut

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brucewayneargento-moved · 3 years

Text

To All My Fathers (Chapter 1)

Summary: Damian Wayne, a fourteen year old with Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia, goes onto a road trip with the four men who shaped him as a person before his bone marrow transplant.

Fic also avaliable on FF.net

Damian had definitely decided he would not wear a fanny pack.

It didn't matter that it was the most convenient and comfortable way to take a chemo pump iv from place to place. He'll much rather attract attention with a backpack connected to a pump than to regress back to the eighties in the most horrendous fashion. Sure he might pick up unwanted attention from strangers but A) He could always stare at them back; B) He was past the time to care and C) He already didn't have eyebrows so that was kind of a moot point.

The boy was currently seated at the med bed of the 666 room. (Drake had made several jokes about it, which Damian didn't mind and in fact encouraged, because with his diagnosis came a morbid sense of humor and he was also glad at least one person still treated him like a human being). He was practicing violin while he could still hold it and also enjoying the fact that he was wearing actual comfortable clothes and not a paper robe that made his autism completely and utterly fucking lose it.

Some kids from the other rooms had come to see him perform and Damian loved to have an audience. Because he had an ego, not as much and not as evil as people usually thought, but still. Most of them were children younger than ten who just needed some entertainment that wasn't a superhero.

"This was Ode To Joy by Bethoveen," Damian explained. The three children around him applauded. When they stopped he could still hear hands clapping, he looked up and his eyes met his father's.

Bruce came closer to him and the kids left after being called by a nurse. Boy and man looked at each other for a few seconds.

"Are you ready?" Bruce finally asked

Damian might have sounded insane if he said it outloud, but his father and Jon were very similar.

The blue eyes, the black hair and the fact that they both cried before or after entering a room with Damian in it, bonus points if he was being stabbed with a needle right at that moment, then you could see their eyes getting crystalized almost in slow motion.

And it's not like Damian was annoyed by their emotions as one might have thought, it was more of a...sting, (man being stabbed with a needle on a daily basis was really taking a toll on him, wasn't it?) like, something that hurt but it wasn't enough for him to do anything about it more than to grit his teeth and power through it.

Numbness was apparently a common thing among patients. But Damian thought of himself as many stuff, but common wasn't one of them

And perhaps his ego was the only thing keeping him optimistic, perhaps thinking that he was too special to die alone in a hospital room was what made him stronger against the whole GvHD thing.

Leslie had told him that he was lucky to find a donor that was relatively near, in Kansas nonetheless, home of Superman and. So now he had just to keep up with the program: L-asparaginase,dexamethasone and vincristine several times a day and wait.

Or at least that was the original plan.

"Yes." he finally answered, standing up.

When all you receive in your life is gaslighting, you don't even notice the medical gaslighting.

Maybe it was the whole "being indoctrinated since birth by an ecoterrorist death cult" thing but his ability to exercise his free will hadn't been particularly developed.

The bruises? Vigilante stuff. The fever? Probably the flu. Weight loss? Maybe he had gotten a growth spurt that just made him seem thinner…He had to throw up blood to even be admitted into a hospital.

The Wayne-Head name allowed him the finest care probably ever known to man. "Nepotism: where you can die comfortably" that was an actual thing he had said while high on sedatives. He could only imagine his mother's face upon hearing it.

When he woke up both his parents were there. Damian could immediately tell something was wrong. His father was crying and his mother was stoic.

"Oh, ok, so I'm dying" He said, grabbing their attention. Both Talia and Bruce turn to look at him. Damian tried to sit and noticed his arm was cranked to an IV. "Oh, I'm actually dying."

"Do not speak like that." His mother warned him with a threatening voice. Bruce kept quiet but still with a face wet with tears.

Next to them there was a third person. She was an older woman with gray hair and glasses. Doctor Thompkins, his father's godmother. She went over to the medbed and sat on the foot. Damian crossed his arms. She was a smart woman but had the annoying habit of treating him like a perpetual child. Probably the closest thing he had to an actual grandmother.

"Damian," she fixed her glasses and looked at the clipboard she was holding. "Your blood count is in the 200.000 white cells."

Damian's eyes slightly widened, which covertly hid how much of a gut punch he just received.

"I can't have leukemia," he simply stated. There was a slight pained sound coming from his father's mouth which made Damian look him in the eye…that's how he knew it was true.

He started to grin which turned into a giggle which turned into a laugh.

Bruce and Talia looked at him with worry.

"Denial is very common," Leslie stated, trying to remain calm and also sooth Damian up. The teen kept laughing and then stopped to talk.

He had tears in his eyes. "I mean... so much for being an eugenics frankenstein monster, I've failed at even that."

The rest of that afternoon was a blur for him. Except for the being stabbed with needles on his spine parts, that one he remembered very well. Since he had such a high tolerance for pain, the fact that he was casually hurt was news to him.

Of course Dick had been the first one to enter the room.

Damian had hoped that he wasn't but after all it made sense that he did, he was his Robin. He could imagine him punching a wall and screaming when he heard the news. That mental image didn't upset him at all, clearly.

Damian was pretending to watch TV where his oldest brother entered the scene. He had prepared what he was going to say. How he was okay and how he was too stubborn to die anyways. But all of that went to hell when Dick entered the room and immediately ran up to hug him.

All of the walls he had been building up until now feel down hard. Damian just had to press his head against Dick's shoulder for the tears to start running.

"I want a falafel."

They were in the hospital room after a particularly hard session of chemo. His brother was on a chair in front of him reading a book and not looking at him.

"You just threw up on my shoe," he reminded Damian.

"I'm here for a good time, not a long time"

Dick rolled his eyes, now accustomed to the fact that his sibling had developed a morbid sense of humor because of his condition. Right at that moment the door opened and Doctor Thompkins entered the room.

"How are we?" She asked.

"Great." Both responded almost robotically. Damian gagged.

"I wanted to talk to you, Dick, about the bone marrow transplant."

"Why not talk to me?" Damian intervened. "I'm the one whose blood isn't working."

"Because you're still a child," Dick answered as a matter of fact. And despite everything he was glad his older brother at least now had the courtesy of treating him like he had always done. "What's the prognosis, doc?"

"We're considering the umbilical cord transfusion." Leslie explained. "But you will have to ask my godson first.

"Why would he need to...wait...Selina's pregnant?!" Damian asked but then he threw up again. "That wasn't meant to signify my feelings on the matter."

Leslie continued. "But that will still take a few months and...I'm afraid we don't have that much time."

Damian pretended to gag and looked down at the bucket, all to avoid looking at Dick's face.

"But the good news is that we found a match."

Damian hadn't even had time to think about that sentence before he blurted it out, but now it was there, out in the open. For everyone to hear.

"I want to have children."

Everyone being an hyperbole since Alfred was the one who was actually there. His father had to go to patrol so the butler had the night shift to take care of Damian while at the hospital to which the boy was appreciative of. Except for this moment when he was mentally slapping himself for letting on too much. Side effects of being raised to be a killing machine.

"I...did not know that." Alfred admitted. Up to twelve seconds ago he had been standing up listing the symptoms of chemo at Damian's request since he didn't trust Leslie to do it without sugarcoating it and his father might burst into tears in an attempt to do so. Damian had been listening attentively before Alfred mentioned that it was possible that he might wind up being infertile.

The boy simply turned around to the other side of the bed and sighed as tears left his eyes.

Dear Damian

I could not be more content that you are receiving the transplant that you so much need. I wish I could accompany you on the journey to Kansas, but sadly Lady Talia needs me to look out after Bialya...I wish you nothing but a rapid recovery. I implore you to remember that you are not alone in this, to remember that there is a plethora of people that adore you with all of their souls and that you will always have their help. Even when you do not want it.

Best Wishes

Ravi.

Damian looked at Alfred who glanced at him for a nanosecond in the mirror of the car. He knew he was the most active ally he had in this game. Since he not only advocated to his father for this trip to be possible but he also was the only person to always show his compassion in spite of if he actually deserved it or not. Bruce was next to him while Richard sat next to Damian and assesed his condition.

They stayed in comfortable silence in the car with only the sound of "dad music" on the radio for background noise. Damian allowed himself to close his eyes and to feel the soothing bounce of the car against the pavement on his skin...

They stopped suddenly after a while and Damian opened his eyes, he frowned in confusion as Alfred parked the car in front of the airport.

"What are we doing here?" he asked curiously.

Alfred turned around to look at him. "Your father , Master Richard and I thought It'll be a good idea to fly in a friend of yours."

Damian's frown deepened. "A friend?"

Suddenly a tap was heard on the window. They both turned around to look at the front window. It was being slightly knocked on it by a man with a white cane and a bald head who was smiling at them.

"Ravi?" Damian rubbed his eyes and felt them watering up.

Damian knew that he could never make up to Ravi for being responsible for losing his vision. And he also knew that in spite of that the man would still love him unconditionally.

That could be proven easily by the letters that he had written to him when he found out about his diagnosis…

All his father figures were here, suddenly he felt an internal strength he hadn't felt in a while.

#tw: cancer #tw // cancer #tw cancer #damian wayne #bruce wayne #dick grayson #alfred pennyworth #ravi #robin #batman #nightwing

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chaotic-noceur · 4 years

Text

but your lies were so sweet

[ day 6 | angstageddon masterlist ]

pairing: Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels x reader

summary: In his time with Statesman, Jack has gone by many names. In your experience, they were all just aliases for the same liar.

warnings: false identities, lying, no fluff all angst

credits: shout out to my loves @din-damn-djarin @ezrasarm for beta reading and nudging me back into writing this! Also, some inspiration was taken from Headspace by Lewis Capaldi.

a/n: ahhh we’re almost at the end of this week of pain 😭To those of you who have been reading these every day, I applaud you for sticking with us through it all, and thank you for all the love and support! To those of you who have just found this, welcome to the angst! Once again, i apologise for the pain but this ones pretty gentle considering Javi’s....

gif by @ithinkwehitametaphor

“Just tell me why!” you begged, grabbing his hand harshly. “I just want to know why Alex.” He tugs his arm free from your grasp as he spins round to meet your gaze. “Just tell me that and I’ll-” you swallow the lump that’s forming in your throat, “tell me why and I’ll let you go.” He clenches his jaw.

He hadn’t meant for it to go this far, hadn’t meant to hurt you. But one thing had led to another and before he knew it… he’d found himself living the life that he had always wanted. Except it wasn’t real. It wasn’t really his. Worst of all, he’d dragged you so far into his fantasy that you were bound to get caught in the crossfire when it inevitably came crashing down around him.

“Look, sweetheart,” his shoulders drop with a sigh. “There’s something you should know.” His voice is hushed, tired. You fold your arms in an attempt to not lose your patience. “That night you and I met? That wasn’t any mistake.”

“That’s what I’m saying,” you take a step towards him and he eyes the closing of space between you. You ignore the frown forming on his face. “It’s like the stars had aligned and you waltzed into my life and I was falling for you befor-”

“No, sweetheart. You’re not hearing me.” His duffle bag falls onto the floor with a loud thump as he grasps you by the shoulders. “Our ‘accidental meeting’ was no accident.”

“Wha-”

“The night we met, the thoughtful dates, the entirety of our relationship-” he lets go of you to wave his arm out for emphasis, “it was all one big set up t’ get you t’ fall for me. It ain’t nothing personal darlin’,” he shrugs cooly, “it’s just the job.”

The nonchalant tone in his voice makes your blood boil and you clench your fists at your sides. “What are you talking about?”

He deliberates keeping the act up, or spinning up a new lie. Either way, the damage has been done. But the dejected look on your face, the innocent glimmer in your eyes… it stirs something in him that he doesn’t want to address. Not now. Not while he had a mission to complete.

There’s a sinking feeling in his chest that urges him to tell you the truth. To give you some semblance of closure. You deserved that much.

He sighs before he speaks. “My name isn’t Alex, it’s Jack.” He watches as confusion blooms across your features. “Now I can’t in good faith tell you what it is I do for a living but I sure as hell ain’t no pilot. I don’t li-”

“No.” You bring a hand up to stop him as the pieces of the puzzle start falling into place. “You told me- you- you were so-” you shake your head in disbelief as you stumble back, strings of mumbled ‘no’s falling from your lips. Your hand clutches the door handle for support. He watches as you inhale shallow breaths, your eyes darting across the floor.

“I thought you loved me,” you whisper finally. He would’ve missed it had he not been paying you so much attention.

“I only told you what you wanted to hear darlin’.” The weight of his words crash into you with full force and you struggle to breathe. You clutch a hand to your chest, clawing at the invisible knife that’s stabbing at your heart. “You don’t know anything about me, sweetheart.”

“Stop calling me that!” You throw yourself at him and shove him hard. He stumbles into the hallway until his back hits the wall. “You have no right to call me that!” You sneer. Turning away from him, you shake your head in disgust. You pace across the walkway as you compose your thoughts.

Eventually, you stop in front of your open door as you turn your head to look at him. When you speak, there’s a calmness to your voice that makes his stomach lurch in disgust. “You talked about wanting a love that lasts. A love so strong that you would do anything to keep it but you know what?” You raise your eyebrow at him tauntingly. “A man like you?” You scoff. “You’ll never be worthy of a love like that.”

You step over his discarded duffle bag before slamming the door shut behind you. Tears well in your eyes as you lean your back against the stained wood. Your shoulders drop in defeat as you slide to the ground, silent sobs wracking through your body. You’d fallen for the ghost of a man, a creation of your imagination—of his. But why did the pain feel so real?

Through clouded eyes, the photo frame sitting on your shared bookshelf catches your attention and something in you snaps.

You storm across the room and hurl the offensive object at the wall. The shattering of glass rings out in your ears but it’s not enough to drown out the pain in your chest. Your glare fixes onto the collection of books the pair of you had started and you grit your teeth at the sight. Angry sobs echo across your empty apartment as you yank books of the shelf.

You want every trace of him gone.

●●●●

When Jack gets back to headquarters, he’s greeted with proud smiles and shoulder clasps. Champagne gives his usual debriefing speech but Jack can’t stop your words from echoing through his mind.

You’ll never be worthy of a love like that.

Deep down, he understands that they were words said out of anger. He wants to believe that you didn’t mean them. But a small part of him can’t help but wonder… maybe you were right. No matter what he did, he never seems to be able to save the people he loved from getting hurt.

The truth is, he’d never meant to fall for you or to have his affections returned. But the longer his little charade went on, the more he felt himself losing himself in the make believe of it all. He hadn’t realised just how much he’d missed the feeling of redamancy until you started loving him back.

The thrill that had shot through his body with every gentle touch you gave him. The warmth that filled his chest with every smile you sent his way. It felt like the first balmy sunbeams of spring thawing the frozen ground after a long, icy winter. He had relished in the feeling - the relief of knowing he hadn’t gone completely numb to all emotion. He got so caught up in the bliss that he almost forgot about the hurricane of deceit that loomed over his head, threatening to make landfall at any moment.

●●●●

Years later, when his muscles are stiff and his mind heavy with the burden of past missions, he’s finally ready to surrender his code name. He’s helped bring down countless criminal organisations and he was done. He was tired of the continual fighting; tired of the secrets and lies.

He loved his job, don’t get him wrong. The Statesman gave him a home when his had been so cruelly stolen from him. They gave him a purpose when he felt nothing more than blind rage.

But he never quite managed to quench the tiny fragment of him that longed for a normal life. A life free from the looming threat of violence and death. A life where he has a local bar & grill and they know his order off by heart. He always wondered what his happily ever after looked like. He hopes he still has the chance to find out.

The months with you feel like a distant memory now, but the emotions remain. At times, he thinks he sees your face amongst a sea of strangers. He thinks he hears your voice, lulling him to the land of dreams. He thinks he remembers the taste of your lips against his, but he can’t be sure.

●●●●

Glancing to the numbers by the door as he crumples the sheet of paper in his grip. He straightens the leather jacket before delivering three firm knocks against the door. The silence that he’s met with allows for the doubt to sink in.

Did you even want to see him? What could he possibly say to you to make up for the hurt? What if you’ve moved on? What if this just stands to cause you more pain? What if you hate him? You have every right to hate him. He hates himself for what he did to you.

A metallic clinking jolts him from his thoughts and he reaches instinctively for the ghost of his lasso as he turns. His breath hitches when his gaze falls on you. The expression you wear is somewhere between anger and hurt and he doesn’t know which one he hates more.

You stare at each other for a quiet moment before both attempting to speak at once. Your overlapping voices form an abrupt dissonance that startles even yourselves.

“I wanted to-”

“What are you-” He clears his throat awkwardly and you bring your arm up, gesturing for him to continue.

“I owe you a formal explanation,” he states. You scoff quietly. He owes you a lot more than that. “Perhaps we could talk in a more… private setting” He eyes the neighbouring doors suspiciously. A raised, unimpressed eyebrow is your only response. “The things I need to say… they aren’t for the public ear.” You roll your eyes at him. There was always some secret with him. When you fold your arms across your chest, he softens. “Please.”

A part of you hates him. It wants to scream and hurl insults at him until your throat is raw. But a bigger part of you needs to know why he had left. What he’d meant when he said it was ‘just the job’. Why he’d lied to you the whole time.

There’s a slight downturn in his lips that makes the rope around your heart tighten its grip and you want nothing more than to cut yourself free. But there’s a sliver of vulnerability in his eyes that makes it difficult to hold your anger.

With a sigh, you pick your dropped keys off the floor, step around him and key the door open with more force than necessary. You hold it open for him before leaning against the other side.

Jack looks around awkwardly as he takes in the signs of you that are scattered throughout the space. He notes the distinctive lack of him. All remnants of him had been wiped clean. Although, he supposes they weren’t really parts of him to begin with. They were parts of the man he wanted to be. The man he will never be.

The sound of you clearing your throat jolts him from his spiralling thoughts. There’s a fire in your eyes that wasn’t there before and he shrinks back slightly, feeling painfully out of place. He can’t recall the last time he was this nervous and he shifts his weight uncomfortably. You drum your fingers impatiently across your folded arm and he inhales deeply before beginning. Come hell or high water, there was no going back now.

“M’ real name is Jack, Jack Daniels.” The drumming stops. You stare at him, dumbfounded. An incredulous laugh threatens to leave your lips - he honestly expected you to believe that that is his name? But there’s no trace of humour in his eyes so you clamp your mouth shut. “I was an agent for a secret intelligence agency known as Statesman. Now, Alex was-” he pauses as he grapples for the right words, “a made-up persona, designed to capture your interest, so to speak.” You inhale sharply, though you hide it well. He continues. “You should know, it wasn’t you that we were after. Your friends were involved with some… suspicious people and we needed t-” you hold out a hand to stop him.

“What do you mean ‘suspicious’?” You push off the door to step toward him. “My friends aren’t criminals!” He holds his arms up in defence.

“No, they weren’t. But they were involved with some. It made them suspects. But you…” he looks to you for permission to proceed. You nod stiffly. “You were a tough nut t’ crack. Not even our finest agents could find a damn thing about you and that made you peculiar- an anomaly.” He tilts his head towards you as if congratulating you on a feat. His voice deepens when he says, “we don’t like anomalies,” and you scoff at the tone.

“So they sent you,” you sneered, failing to mask your appalled tone.

“There ain’t nothing better than live intel swe-” he stops himself short. He sees the way you start recoiling from him but he keeps going. “It wasn’t supposed to go as far as it had and I truly do apologise for fooling you but we had to know you weren’t a threat.”

Your heart hammers in your chest as the pieces of the puzzle start to fall into place. Blank pieces start to fill themselves with vivid colours of truth. You were nothing but a pawn on a chessboard being manipulated. Your legs feel weak and you move to sit against the arm of the couch. He follows your movement, turning to you as you walk. There’s a distant look in your eyes and he gives you a moment for the words to sink in.

“While the night we met may have been a setup-” he takes a hesitant step towards you and your eyes snap up to meet his, “my feelings for you were not.” You narrow your eyes at him and he stops pacing. He observes the subtle clenching of your jaw and he decides to crack open the box that he’d buried a long time ago. He needs you to see there’s a real bleeding heart beneath the facade he’d been forced to weave for you.

“I lost someone very dear to me once, a long time ago.” His gaze dances between you and the objects in the room. “I never thought I’d find someone after her. But then you-“ He stops short. Sighs. Worries his lip between his teeth for a moment before speaking. This all seems so far-fetched now.

“You were never meant to get caught in the crossfire of all this.” His voice is but a whisper, like he was speaking a sacred confession. There’s a new note to his voice as his eyes flit back and forth between your own, as though studying them for any kind of reaction he could get. “I love you.”

The room falls silent. Jack swears he can hear the distant ticking on a clock from deeper within your home. His heart hammers in his chest, the resonant beating echoes into his ears.

Finally, you smile. “You wanna know something?” There’s a sinister tone lacing your voice and it sends a shiver down his spine. “I never thought that a lie could sound so sweet,” you chuckle lowly, “until you opened your mouth and said you loved me.”

Jack feels his stomach lurch in response to your words. He always wondered what his happily ever after looked like. He supposes he’ll never know.

——angstageddon tag list

@din-damn-djarin @ezrasarm @chaoticspaceidiot @engineeredfiction @pedropascalito @dreamgirl-67 @hillarymurray4 @wille-zarr @oloreaa @this-cat-is-dea @marydjarin @roxypeanut @cryptkeepersoul @agirllovespasta @wickedfrsgrl @dindisneydjarin @opheliaelysia @aeryntheofficial @adikaofmandalore @goldafterglow @yespolkadotkitty @chibi-liz05 @scarlettvonsass @rpcvliz @cinewhore @basura2319 @theravenreads @mxndoscyarika @jaime1110 @f0rever15elf @pancakepike @phoenixhalliwell @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @apunkpascal

#agent whiskey x reader #jack daniels x reader #agent whiskey #kingsman: the golden circle #angstageddon #kay writes

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wordsablaze · 3 years

Text

Ch.12. Blinding Blue

Blue Buttercup Almost like buttercups, it took Jaskier a lot of time and trouble to bloom and find his place in the world, but it wasn’t all so golden… (aka: yennefer was his mother way before he was jaskier)

A/N: i’m a lil behind on crossposting but hey, i fixed the cliffhanger :) @dauntless-hufflepuff-pride @mayastormborn

previous chapter

“Who the hell are you?” Yennefer snarls, instantly on her feet.

Julian whimpers again, clinging to her as if his life depends on it, his arms looped around her neck like some sort of peculiar necklace.

(It’d be her favourite necklace, of course.)

“What, Marcio didn’t mention me?” the man asks with a smirk that, in any other situation, she might simply have killed him for.

“The other mage, of course,” Yennefer mutters, stepping back as he steps down from the ladder so she can half-turn and keep Julian as far away from him as possible.

The man smiles. “Marcio’s better partner, Tymon, at your service.”

Yennefer has a dozen things she could say about his service or lack thereof but she has priorities and the child curled around her is far more important than any kind of satisfaction found in insulting others.

(She’s fleetingly shocked by how quickly Julian has become her priority.)

“What have you done to him?” she asks, her voice steady but cold.

Tymon glances over Julian with a curious smile. “That depends on what he is.”

Yennefer’s eyes narrow. “I’m not here for riddles.”

With a casual hum, Tymon walks over to the desk, chuckling when he sees the mess of her having looked through everything. “You read the journals, didn’t you?”

She frowns, tightening her grip on Julian. “You’ve been toying with things beyond your control, I’m aware. How is that relevant right now?”

The answer is obvious to her even as the words leave her mouth and Tymon must see that on her face because he just laughs, waving a hand and promptly sealing the makeshift door to the room before settling in the chair smugly.

(She hates herself for not connecting the dots sooner.)

Julian hadn’t even needed to touch or eat anything for whatever Tymon has built into the walls to take effect. It’s clever, to bring people or creatures down into a hidden room and slowly weaken them until they can be experimented on, but it’s hurting someone important to her and Yennefer will not stand for it.

“Do you expect me to applaud?” she asks, raising an eyebrow.

“I expect you to hand over the boy.”

Julian sobs into her neck at that and she shakes her head without hesitation, her lips twisting into a snarl as she glowers at Tymon. “Over my dead body.”

She’s not expecting the other mage to try and attack her but she’s ready nonetheless, one hand stretched out in front of her to form a shield before his chaos even reaches them, the spell bouncing off them harmlessly.

Tymon’s jaw clenches as he stands, lifting his hands once again. “He’ll be more useful in my work than he’ll ever be with you!”

(She doesn’t need him to be useful.)

Yennefer just scoffs, one of her hands curling around the back of Julian’s head and gently playing with his hair to distract him from hearing anything Tymon is saying. She steps back again, this time only to brace herself properly, and smiles.

“If you’re ready for death, it’ll be my pleasure to see you off.”

Tymon scowls at her and immediately throws himself into another spell. Having anticipated that, Yennefer throws back one of her own, purple and black colliding in the middle of the room in a burst of almost blinding sparks until they implode, Tymon being thrown backwards into the shelf behind him.

Julian’s hands clench into tiny fists around her hair and Yennefer winces when one of them pulls awkwardly but she doesn’t try to untangle herself, allowing him the comfort of knowing she’s still right beside him.

(Allowing herself the same comfort in return.)

The other mage doesn’t seem to be moving so Yennefer turns back to the trapdoor, knowing that Julian needs to get out if he’s going to survive. If his life wasn’t in danger, she might even have been impressed by the standard of the subtle cage around them.

“No!” Tymon yells from behind her.

She’s too focused on figuring out their exit to notice the objects that fly towards them in time to block them all. Several books, an inkpot, a paperweight, and an empty pitcher slip through her shield, most of them hitting her but something obviously catching Julian because he cries out, his grip on her hair loosening as he starts toppling.

(She’s loath to admit her heart misses a beat.)

Cursing loudly, Yennefer stumbles and uses both arms to catch him, twisting her body as she does and then steadying him against her, tucking him into her chest, both of them breathing heavily.

“You’re wasting your time, only I can open the door again,” Tymon gloats.

Yennefer’s jaw clenches as she turns back to him. “Maybe you haven’t heard of me, I’m Yennefer of Vengerberg and I am far more powerful than the likes of you.”

Adjusting her grip on Julian, she throws a hand out, her chaos hitting Tymon directly above his heart before he can blink. He screams, his knees buckling, and mutters something under his breath that she doesn’t catch.

Though it’s not that hard to figure out what he’s done because Julian screams seconds later, a horrible noise that Yennefer would rather she’d never have known.

(Now she knows why they say ignorance can be bliss.)

“You’re okay, I’ve got you, it’s fine,” she murmurs to a now quiet Julian before turning her attention back to the trapdoor. Unfortunately, Tymon, despite having choked on his own blood and slumped to the ground as a result of his own arrogance, was right: the seal does seem to be linked to his magic.

Yennefer quickly concludes that it’d be far easier to overcome his seal if she had both hands. Gritting her teeth, she keeps one arm firmly wrapped around Julian, who’s worryingly limp at this point, and places her other hand on the trapdoor above them.

And pushes.

The door doesn’t give but she wasn’t really expecting it to so she just pushes with her magic as well as her fingers, stubbornly pressing chaos into the stupid seal even as she feels her knees weakening and beads of sweat rolling down the sides of her face.

(She’d rather die than let Julian do the same.)

She keeps pushing and she’s not sure if she’s actually yelling or just imagining it but just as her vision starts to black out, the seal shatters and the door finally, finally gives, splintering upwards.

Yennefer pants, stumbling up the last few steps and all but collapsing onto the half-dusty rug, Julian lying still on her chest as he goes down with her. It takes her a long moment to even register his presence, her head still pounding and her eyes still ringing, but she pushes herself upright again as soon as she does.

“Julian? Julian, hey, open your eyes,” she whispers furiously, gently shaking his shoulders.

(She definitely doesn’t panic at the sight of his pale face.)

“Come on, little one, that’s it. Open your eyes for me,” she continues, managing a smile as his eyes scrunch up and he groans softly.

He coughs before he follows her instructions, his hands reaching upwards. “Yenny?”

Relief floods into her heart at the sound of his voice and she nods even though he can’t see it, allowing him to curl his fingers around her own. “I’m here, I’ve got you.”

It takes several long moments for him to finally open his eyes and the first thing he does is frantically look around until his gaze settles on her, at which point he grins weakly but still widely enough for her to be sure he’s not dying.

(Never has she appreciated the colour blue so much.)

“Can we go home?” Julian asks her, climbing into her lap with tears shining in his eyes.

Yennefer frowns for a moment, and then frowns again when she realises that he’s referring to her cottage, that he considers home to be with her. She makes a mental note to worry more about that later and nods at him, exhaling softly as feeling finally returns to her exhausted limbs.

“That sounds like a good plan,” she agrees. Julian wraps his limbs around her again in response and without meaning to, she cradles him close, too tired to question how and why she’s become so strongly attached to this random child.

(She's not entirely opposed to be honest.)

sorry if it was lowkey anticlimactic, action is not my friend :p

thanks for reading !! masterlist | witcher blog: @itsjaskier | next chapter

#jaskier #yennefer of vengerberg #hurt jaskier #protective yennefer #good parent yennefer #young jaskier #au #fluff and angst #fanfic #the witcher #my writing #bbu

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wackapedia · 4 years

Text

Le Éclatant

Four/Billy x Reader

a/n: im back at my bullshit writing for Ben Hardy!

Warnings: Canon-typical violence and swearing

You were in one of your father's lavish parties. Actually, the country club throws parties almost every week. You walk through the crowd of boomers, sipping your drink, hoping it was a little stronger. One of the country club wives complement your dress. She says the exact same thing everytime you meet at a party. It's all so fake and exhausting.

Tonight's event was even more lavish than usual. The President of some other rich bitch club is here to celebrate an anniversary of some sorts. That means there's twice the drinks, twice the crowd, twice the fakery. You were tying your hair into a simple ponytail when three knocks rattle your solid mahogany door. Your father enters, carrying a box. "I want you to wear this." You take the box and open it to reveal a thick diamond-studded collar necklace. The Éclatant. Valued at over a hundred million, the Éclatant was originally commissioned for a Maharajah during the late 1800s. It came to your family's possession years ago when your French great great grandfather traveled to the east. Some uncles say he became good friends with a gallant rajah, others say he murdered one. This necklace was just one of your family's private collection of art. And tonight, you get to wear it. "Why?" You ask, carefully picking up the heavy necklace, testing how the pendant fits your neckline. "Mister Bradford is coming to the party.. " he begins. "Lions squad president, I know.. " you interject. "Lions club." He pointedly looks at you before continuing, "his son, Oliver is coming." He takes the necklace from your hands before opening the clasp and putting it around your neck. "I want you to look nice and pretty for him. We're looking into a company merger." The clasp clicks at the back of your neck. "What? Why do we need to merge companies? We're more than comfortable having too much money!" You stare daggers at your father through the mirror. "Nothing is ever enough. You will understand this when you're older, and you'll thank me for it." He raises his voice, ending the discussion. You prepare to walk into the venue of the party, waiting outside the grand doors. It was an event hall that was still part of your family's estate. You note several bodyguards scattered at almost every French window of the hall. With big shits present, security was insane. Additional cameras were even installed just for this event. The doors to the event hall finally open for you. The sounds of your heels are muffled by the carpet. The crowd gasps at your lavish necklace. They applaud. You think it's ridiculous. Your father walks in soon, still getting applauded. Mister Bradford arrives with his son, gets applauded as well. The party begins after a short opening statement. You stand away from the crowd. You could not hold a conversation with such shallow minds. You sip your champagne, staring outside through the French windows, enjoying the view of the dark estate. You notice a trail of shadows moving quickly in the distance. You were snapped out by a hand tapping at the other side of the window's glass. You look down to see a handsome stranger dressed in all casual black, crouching at the floor, looking up at you. He motions for you to open the window. You put your champagne down to unhinge the window's lock and push it open. As soon as you do, he grabs your hand and pulls you out, shutting the window closed. Your eyes dart through the patio to see all security personnel on the ground, heads burst, bleeding all over. You were about to scream when the green-eyed stranger covers your mouth. "Hey hey shhh it's fine it's okay I'm here to save you." His face, mere inches from yours and his British accent bring you a sense of calm. He pulls you away from the dead security personnel before letting go of your mouth, but still holding your arm, pressing you between him and a wall. "What do you want?" You shakily ask the handsome stranger. "Me? Nothing, love, I'm trying to save you-" "Bullshit. You have a gun in your belt. How much do you want?!" You were starting to get hysterical. "Or I'm just happy to see you?" He teases, a delicious smirk decorating his face. Just after he speaks, a series of gunshots and screams erupt from the hall. You try to push him out of your way but he pushes you back into the wall. "Those were just warning shots. We're only taking Bradford." He explains, looking you in the eye, no hint of dishonesty in them despite being a stranger. "Winston?" You guess. That old man surely has some nasty business going on. "No. Oliver. The kid runs an underground cartel that sells children as slaves." The blonde reveals. "What?! That son of a bitch has enough money from the company! Why would he do that?" You raise your voice out of surprise. "Yeah. The cartel is based in Natumbe, in Africa. We're teaching him a lesson." He pulls away from you, noticing the team already wrapping up from inside. "Well, he deserves it." You slide your hand through your hair. "Fuck the rich." You mutter. The man smiles. "I'd love to, sweetheart, but we gotta go." He winks at you. "But i'll hold you to it!" He starts to leave the patio, facing the moist grass of the estate, towards a black getaway van. Before he steps off however, he faces you again and places his hand on the side of your neck. Before you know it, his soft cold lips are on yours, kissing you. You find yourself kissing back, feeling his cheeky smile spread before he pulls away and jogs toward the van. A man carrying who you presume to be Oliver in a sack was yelling profanities at the man you just kissed. He called him 'four' if you heard correctly? As the car drives away, you look up to see a surveillance camera pointed directly at you. "Ah shit I thought they were professionals." You sake your head, pulling out your phone and infiltrate the estate's security network. You deleted all footages from tonight, downloading the clips into your phone. You walk back to the almost empty hall, most guests leaving as soon as they can. People rushing to the exit, bumping against you counterflowing. Soon enough you spot your father, whose eyes widen at the sight of you. "Wh-where is the necklace?!" He screams. Your hands fly to your neck, finding it devoid of the precious jewelry. That sneaky bastard. "I'm fine dad." You sarcastically answer, heading outside to the parking lot. Your father continues to nag about the necklace, not even bothering to ask about you. Fortunately, you knew the necklace had a tracker. Using the estate's security network, the necklace's whereabouts are mapped within a radius as wide as the state of Alabama. You had no trouble picking up it's distant frequency signal as well as the IP address of any device near it. ---------- The underground team was driving away from the estate, trying to keep Oliver Bradford silent as he cried out for his mum. "Mate, are you fucking serious?" Four cocks a gun to Oliver's sack-clad head. He wails even louder. "Just fucking knock him out!" One yells from the front seat, Seven getting the job done smacking the back of his head. "Thank you!" One sighs. A ridiculous song from a Disney channel show suddenly starts playing. Everyone groans except for Three who starts singing along. Two fishes the ringing phone from Oliver Bradford's suit pocket and prepares to throw it out the car before One stops her. He looks at the screen to find an Unknown Number calling. One answers and puts it on speaker mode. "Hello?" ---------- "Hey.. "You recognize the voice on the other line as the man who yelled at 'four' as he was leaving. Your phone was on speaker mode, laying against the leather upholstery of the front seat of your car. You floored the accelerator through the empty road, still hoping to catch up with them. "I'm looking for a guy you called as 'Four'?" There was a long silence at the other end. ---------- "Four, what the fuck is this?" One faces Four from the front seat after putting the phone on mute. "I don't know what you're talking about!" Four yells as the rest of the crew complain. One unmutes the phone and asks: “Miss, if you're looking to get Bradford back-" "Oh no I don't give two shits about Bradford. What I am most concerned is that your buddy, Four, stole not only a kiss, but also a multi-million dollar necklace from me..." One's jaw drops, shaking his head while looking at Four. "And you dipshits probably didn't know about the tracking device in it.." you continue. One raises his gun to Four who was laughing hysterically as he recalled the kiss. "Plus you guys are just really dumb to forget about the security camera footage... " The phone dings, receiving the video footage you just sent. "Alright, do you want your necklace back?" One answers through gritted teeth, gripping the phone dangerously tight. "... Nah. I want in." One's eyebrows shoot to his hairline. "E-excuse me?" "I don't know exactly what vigilante club you guys are running but you are in desperate need of a hacker." You confidently explain while driving, their black van now visible. You blow the horn of your Cadillac twice. "That's me" you speak. One contemplates for a while before going "Alright, pull over. We'll talk."

#6 underground fanfiction #ben hardy x reader #four x reader #four/billy x reader #6 underground x reader

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nataliedanovelist · 3 years

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GF - How A Star Is Born. ch.VI

A Hercules AU, founded by @evaroze, whom this fic is a gift for. I hope y’all like it!

ch.V - ch.VII

AO3 link

~~~~~~~~~~

The little sailboat gently glided along the river that would eventually pool into the sea. There, just as the river touched the vast salty body of water, there was a harbor that began the huge troublesome town of Thebes.

“Wow,” Dipper awed as he tied up the boat. “Is that all one town?”

“One town, a million troubles.” Stan quipped as he walked along the dock and his student hurried to catch up. “The Big Olive herself: Thebes. They say if you can make it here, you can make it anywhere.”

“Cool!” Dipper said as they entered the city. Never before had the farmboy seen so many temples and buildings clumped together, so many people in one place, so many speeding carts and horses and stray cats and the occasional mice that kept the cats fat and happy.

“Stick with me, kid,” Stan warned as they stopped with a group of people waiting to cross the street. “This place is dangerous.”

The horse-pulled carts came to a stop and some guy turned a red-hand vase so it showed a green walking man. They began to cross, but one cart sped by them and Stan had to dive on top of Dipper to push them both out of the way in time.

“Watch where you’re doing!”

“HEY I’M WALKING HERE!” Stan screamed back and made a rude gesture and he got up from Dipper, somehow miraculously getting a slight hint of a Latin accent. “See what I mean? Knuckleheads, all of them.”

“Then you should feel right at home.” Dipper sneered playfully, earning him a firm punch on the shoulder as they walked on.

A few minutes into town, after passing a shady conman that Stan saw right-through, a cute lady at a corner asking if anyone was wanting a good time, and a naked guy singing about accepting yourself, loving yourself, while waving around a dead chicken, the two men walked up to a fountain, taking notice of a group of people talking woefully.

“It was horrible.” A whiny troll-looking guy said as he rinsed his cap into the fountain, trying to get the soot off his clothes. “I lost everything in the fire. All of my beautiful vases and stone tablets.”

“Now were the fires before or after the earthquakes?” A big red-haired guy asked.

“They were after the fires.” A red-haired girl a few years older than Dipper answered with. “But before the flood.”

“Not to mention the crime-rate.” A skinny guy with a small mustache added in. “Seems every time I turn around, there’s some new monster running havoc!”

“1220 has got to be the worst year I’ve ever heard of.” The red-haired woman said as she kicked a rock harshly and crossed her arms over her chest. “Can’t we just move to Sparta, Dad?”

The entire time the locals were complaining, Stan was elbowing Dipper encouragingly and gesturing for him to go ahead. Dipper cleared his throat and said, “Excuse me.” When all the eyes were on him, he felt a little nervous, but he went ahead. “It seems to me that what you need is a hero.” He said confidently and puffed his chest out with his hands on his hips.

The crowd did not look impressed. “Yeah,” The big guy snorted. “And who are you?”

“Um, I’m Dipper.” The young man said, trying to keep his confidence up, but was failing. “But I happen to be a hero, and…”

The four laughed at him and Stan narrowed his eyes as the townsfolk had their doubts if this young man could possibly help them.

“Have you ever saved a town before?” The small troll-like man asked.

“Uh… n-no, not yet…”

“Or reversed a natural disaster?” The big guy asked.

“Uh… n-n-no, but…”

“Ugh,” The red-haired woman groaned. “He’s just another chariot chaser.”

“Don’t you knuckleheads get it!” Stan yelled, placing a hand on Dipper’s shoulder. “This kid’s the genuine article!”

The little ugly man narrowed his eyes and adjusted his thick glasses to get a good look at the old man. “Hey… isn’t that the fallen god that trained Achelles?”

Stan’s whole face turned red and he began to shake with anger. “Watch it, pal.” He growled like an angry dog.

“Stan…”

“Hey, you’re right, Toby.” The big guy said and laughed harshly. “Oh boy! I needed this! Some amateur hero trained by the worst god of existence!”

Stan let go of Dipper and began cracking his knuckles. “You wanna go, buddy, c’mon…”

“Stan, Stan!” Dipper had to use his god-like strength to hold his teacher back as it looked like he was going to pounce on the big guy who looked like he could rip a tree out from the ground if he wanted to. “He’s not worth it, let’s just go.”

Stan, still growing, allowed Dipper to lead him to a large set of stairs while the four walked away. Soon Stan swatted Dipper’s hands off of him and they sat to try to think.

Dipper, meanwhile, was thinking about what that guy had said. A fallen god? That may very well have only been a cheap insult for the Trainer of Heroes, but Dipper had first-hand experience in the matter. Gods can fall. Was it possible that someone who had practically raised him and trained him to be a hero so he could be a god again knew exactly what it felt like to be someone you’re not?

“Stan, wh-what those guys were saying…”

“Listen, kid,” Stan said tiredly and held his head. “You’re gonna hear some really bad stuff about me in this town, and some of it is true, but I need you to trust that everything I’ve ever done has been so that family sticks together, okay? I’m gonna get you to your twin, okay? I’m gonna help you become a true hero if it’s the last thing I do, okay? All I ask is that you trust me. Please.” And he looked up at the teenager heavily.

Dipper swallowed as he saw a million and one emotions in his eyes. After everything this guy has done for him and planned to do for him, Dipper decided that trusting him was the least he could do, so the younger of the two nodded, but their moment was interrupted by a cry for help.

“Help! Help, please! Help!”

“Pacifica?” Dipper muttered as he saw a lush amount of blonde hair try to make its way through the crowd. “Pacifica!” He stood and hurried to her as her eyes lit up at the sight of him and hurried.

“Wonderboy… Dipper, thank goodness! Outside of town, by the sea, this little boy was playing and there was a horrible rockslide! He’s trapped!”

“Quick, show me where he’s at!”

Pacifica grabbed Dipper’s hand, making his whole face turn red, and she led the way through town back towards the sea, north of the harbor and just below a mountain that led to Thebes’ Temple of the Gods. Stan quickly followed behind them and a few townsfolk decided to keep an eye for entertainment purposes mostly.

On the damp sand there was a rocky wall side from where the tide often comes in and forms a wall, separating the town from the ocean. Dipper could hear a boy’s cries coming from behind a rock and he hurried across the beach, leaving Pacifica, Stan, and the townsfolk on the sidewalk.

“Help! I can’t breathe!” The boy coughed and desperately pleaded, “Somebody call I-X-I-I!”

Dipper stood by the big boulder and said calmly, “Don’t worry, I’m gonna get you out.”

“Hurry, please!”

Dipper looked up at the giant boulder and took in a deep breath. This rock was huge, one of the biggest things he had ever had to lift, but if he could accidentally destroy half of his hometown, he can lift a boulder. Right?

He grabbed on from the bottom and struggled for a moment, but with gritted, deep breaths, and sheer determination (Stan’s calls of encouragement also helped tremendously), Dipper was able to slowly lift the boulder up from the tiny cave in which the white haired boy was trapped behind.

The boy ran out quickly and Dipper asked in a strained voice, “Y-You okay?”

“Yeah… J-Jeepers, mister.” The boy awed. “You’re really strong!”

Dipper smiled and said after he threw the boulder into the ocean, “Just try to be a little more careful, okay?”

“I sure will!” The boy replied as he ran off into the town.

Stan cheered and hollered, only stopping when he was coughing and he bent over a little to cough sharply into his fist. The townsfolk gave a small applause for him, only a little impressed, as the boy climbed up the side of the mountain and went into the mouth of a large cave, where he was met with Bill in his throne, sipping on live worms, and Pacifica, who sat with her legs dangling over the edge.

“Jeepers? Mister?” Pacifica sneered.

“I was going for innocence.” Gideon said as she changed back into his older self and sat next to Pacifica to watch the show.

“You both did good.” Bill said coldly. “I was really moved by your performances. Great opening act.”

Meanwhile, Stan was at Dipper’s side and patted him hardly on the back. “Great job, kid! They even applauded! Sorta, but still!”

Dipper heard something and turned to look out at the dark and dreary sea. Bubbles. “I-I don’t think that’s applause, Stan.”

Stan looked out at the ocean and saw a shadow form under the bubbles, and soon they were shocked to find a big green head emerge from the water with sharp teeth and small eyes, followed by a long neck and a fat body, the monster roaring like a horrible siren.

“St-Stan! What the heck is that!?” Dipper asked his mentor.

“The Gobblewonker!” Stan yelled as he pointed at the monster. He pulled out Dipper’s sword from his scabbard, put it in his hand, and ran back to the screaming crowd for safety.

“Let’s get ready to rumble!” Gideon cheered and Bill snapped his fingers to make a ringing bell appeared.

~~~~~~~~~~

Ford and Mabel were sitting on the front steps of their temple, having tea, as the young muse happily chatted and the aged god happily listened, but they were interrupted by Fiddleford’s wind-breaking running as he hurried up to his dearest friends and was short of breath.

“St-St-Stanford! It’s Mason! He’s battlin’ the Gobblewonker on the beach o’Thebes!”

Ford choked on his tea and had to spit it out. “WHAT?!”

Mabel punched the air. “Alright! He can take down that big dummy! I wanna see him do it!” And the young muse got up and started to run out of Olympus.

“Wait!” Ford called as he and his best friend ran after her. “Mabel, wait!”

~~~~~~~~~~

Dipper slowly watched as the Gobblewonker’s neck positioned itself for attack, like an angry snake. This was no different than those garden snakes at the orphanage, right? The monster attempted to strike, but Dipper dodged swiftly on the beach. Again, and another dodge. Again, another dodge.

“That’s it,” Stan coached. “That’s it, kid, dance around, look for an opening.”

The Gobblewonker struck again, digging it’s sharp teeth into the sand, and Dipper was almost hit, but managed to spit out some sand and stand strong, unfortunately realizing a second too late that his sword was no longer in his hand, but lying behind him. Now having to multitask running the opposite direction and dodging a monster, as if this battle wasn’t difficult enough.

To distract it and buy some time, Dipper used his super strength and threw a huge rock at the Gobblewonker, who crushed it in his jaws while Dipper retrieved his weapon. He stood proud and ready to strike, but in one instant the monster engulfed the hero in it’s mouth and held its head up high to swallow Dipper like he was a pill.

Pacifica held her throat and cringed as the Gobblewonker licked his chops, but soon it was wincing, like it was in pain, and a gruesome scene of Dipper cutting the monster’s neck from the inside appeared before the audience and the Gobblewonker’s head and half its neck flew into the ocean, leaving red in the water and on his body.

“YES! THAT’S MY BOY, THAT’S MY BOY!” Stan cheered as the Gobblewonker’s body fell onto the beach with a loud splash and the dizzy hero fell to his knees. Stan was right by Dipper’s side and helped him up, lightly tapping his face. “Good job, kid, good job. C’mon, let’s getcha cleaned up.” And the old man helped his student get on his feet and shake away his dizziness from the acid that had been in the neck.

Up in the cave, Bill was turning red and shaking. Pacifica smiled, ready to see Gideon be burned to a crisp, but the young man was still, miraculously, perfectly calm.

“Gideon, your plan…”

“Bill, Bill buddy, relax.” Gideon rested his hands behind his neck as rain started to trickle down on the mortal world. “It’s only half time.”

The Gobblewonker’s body twitched behind the two men. They both turned and were very disturbed to find it standing up on its own and suddenly three heads emerged from the opened neck, ready to attack the hero again.

“HOLY HERA!” Stan yelled and ran aside to give the hero his chance.

Dipper backed away until his back was against the rocks, smiling. “Ha! You’re trapped in water, huh?”

The three-headed-Gobblewonker must have understood the young man and decided to prove him wrong, because the sea monsters climbed up out of the water and onto the same to better attack the human.

“Oh, jeez.” Dipper groaned before letting instincts take over and he chopped an incoming head off to dodge and get out of being cornered against the rocky wall.

Dipper allowed his adrenaline to take over and soon he was swinging at anything that came towards him. This, of course, was a bad idea and soon Dipper stood with his back to the sea at a thirty-headed-Gobblewonker, bigger and meaner and more powerful than ever before.

“WILL YOU FORGET THE HEAD-SLICING THING?!” Stan yelled from the sidelines.

Dipper swallowed as a clawed-flipper scooped him up and pinned him against the mountain side, all thirty heads getting closer and closer and ready to rip him apart limb from limb.

“C’mon, kid!” Stan cheered. “Use that big head of yours! C’mon!”

Dipper did some quick thinking, looking up at the mountain, and without a second to lose, he pounded his combined fists against the mountain on his left side, causing an avalanche. One by one the heads were crushed and more red stained the rainy beach, leaving only a fisted-up claw in the clear, unnoticed by the audience.

“NO!” Stan screamed and hurried to the rockpile. “C’mon, c’mon kid, stay with me. Stay with me!” The old man fell to his knees and started to move rocks out of the way, trying to find his student. “No, no, no! Please!”

Meanwhile, Gideon and Bill were smiling twisted smiles. “Hm, nice job, kiddo.” Bill said to Gideon. “You’ve redeemed yourself.”

“Told you it would work.” Gideon said calmly.

Pacifica looked down at the old man trying to get the young hero back with sad blue eyes.

“I… I can’t…” Stan panted under his breath. “I can’t lose…” But then he heard something that made him stop digging.

The fist was wiggling, finally noticed. The townsfolk were worried it was the Gobblewonker, still alive, and Stan stood ready to die trying to kill the monster that took his kid away, but everyone who was watching was beyond surprised to find Dipper priding the monster’s dead fingers off of him and standing tiredly with his clothes in rags.

Cheer erupted, everyone deaf to the yells of anger from Bill and the yells of pain from Gideon, or the dark cloud that appeared by the small cave as the three vanished.

The townsfolk yelled and celebrated and ran down to Dipper and Stan, but Stan was the first to congratulate the new hero, holding him in his arms and giving him noogies and yelling to the top of his lungs. “YOU DID IT, KID! YOU WON BY A LANDSLIDE! HAHA!”

And there, up in the dark rainy clouds, Fiddleford danced with Mabel cheerfully for Dipper’s first victory, leaving Ford standing there, mouth open, speechless with pride. “I… I can’t believe it… my boy… he…”

“I told you!” Mabel cheered and punched her uncle on the shoulder. “I was right, you were wrong! Looks like somebody has to sing the Ford Was Wrong Song!”

Ford chuckled and smiled down proudly at his nephew, who was now being carried away by the other humans. To congratulate him, Ford threw down joyous lightning bolts to dance among the jubilant rain.

Dipper caught the lightning striking the ocean and he smiled to himself, daring to believe that his family might be proud of him.

~~~~~~~~~~

In the Underworld, Gideon was on his hands and knees, weak from pain and whimpering. This was the fifth time he was being punished, and Bill wasn’t done. The young white-haired man looked up at his boss and pleaded. “Bill, I…”

With a snap of the triangle’s fingers, Gideon’s tongue burst into flame and the teenager cried out and clawed at his mouth. Bill glared maliciously as he snapped his fingers again and Gideon’s whole body was suffocated in flames. Again.

Soon a sad pile of burning flesh was at Bill’s feet slowly healing again. “First you couldn’t even turn both twins into mortals. Then the one left mortal you let live. And now he lives and kills off one of my most powerful allies for taking this dimension!” Bill snapped his fingers again, burning Gideon alive again, sentencing him to pain that would kill a mortal.

Halfway through healing again, Gideon whimpered through tears, “I can still kill him. He’s still mortal. He got lucky.”

“You better.” Bill said coldly. “You’ve got one year to kill Pinetree, and every time you fail, I’ll kill you again until either he’s dead or you wish you could stay dead.” And the triangle left his minion alone to cry on the floor and think of how he was going to kill the man destined to defeat Bill.

#GF #gift #fanfiction #gravity falls au #dipper pines #pacifica northwest #bill cipher #gideon gleeful #stan pines #ford pines #mabel pines #Fiddleford McGucket

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the-nysh · 4 years

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Hooo....so I’ve finally seen the official release for ch285, and...quite frankly I’m stunned speechless, staring off to the void while thoughts race a mile a minute. It’s really been the only thing on my mind these last few days, but a real struggle to form the right words to how it made me feel, because it’s just...a work of art.

The impact may speak for itself, but it’s like...everything thematically coming together full circle for that moment...all the parallels perfectly aligned, like a mirror, with all the past details remembered but reflected from the other, paired perspective this time. It’s like finally getting the answer to the long-awaited, missing half of the puzzle I’ve always wanted to see. Like a reciprocating handshake (in a figurative sense) that finally fits together, but laid bare, raw, and terribly desperate. There’s honesty and truth in that type of action. It resonates with meaning (after all this time...!) It deliciously hurts.

The panels may have minimal text, but it’s all there (what Kacchan feels) and shown. Every cringe and grit of teeth has those double layers of self-hatred, guilt, regret, and affirmed worst fears (seeing the very losing situation of what he can’t stand play out again in memories and real time), that just builds and builds like ‘no, that [dark action done in the past to discourage/stop this from ever happening] was wrong, this [current sight of Deku, grimly fighting towards his death like he’s possessed by duty/OfA] is wrong. Exactly as Kacchan fears, but wrong; this is not how things should be. Because those dark images are not who (they) want to be, as people or ideal heroes for the future. (Speaking in plurals here: how Kacchan sees/has seen himself ouch, how he sees Deku past/present too, but especially now, and how he knows how Deku still doesn’t see himself when he gets like this. Not good.) Kacchan knows and understands (he hasn’t lost sight of their same goal) for the both of them. (With confirmation now too for his unease with Deku’s reckless/selfless tendencies, and why his -feeling that he couldn’t stand- about him doubled from a place of worry.)

This time however, there’s a pressing need to directly prevent/save that worst outcome from happening (Deku dying/losing from his lack of self-preservation), the right way, himself. Memories of what’s (wrongly) done in the past conflate with what’s still in reach in the present, to drive a genuine feeling pushing forward to act...! With clarity, no hesitation, and without any need for rational thought, leaving no more room to doubt. And that’s beautiful. :’) When delivered like that it comes straight from the heart (a true rising of character, doubly so on Hori’s part for expressing it, and for showing their parallel births into greater heroes -their dual ‘my body moved on its own’ moment- with each other as the catalysts), which resonates right along with the hearts of others (the readers can feel it: the desperation and devastation for what it might cost, and now Deku will have to feel and react on it too...oh boy.) I applaud Hori for a job well done! ;o;

#bnha #bkdk #manga spoilers #honestly i really can't #just spitting out words and feelings at this rate #it's hard to english again from the sight of the ch but man i really need sleep hah #hori goes and finally delivers this after Everything..and now there's really no predicting where he'll go next

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shadowsof-thenight · 3 years

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Animosity

Summary: Steve and Amanda don’t usually work together, and with good reason. So what happens when they don’t have a choice in the matter? Ship: Steve Rogers x OFC-Amanda Warnings: A bit of angst and taunting. And animosity 😜 Words: 6887

***

A/N: This turned out quite different than I had imagined, but it was where the story took me. It’s also a lot longer. I wanted to try some different characteristics than I usually pick for the reader/oc. This OFC isn’t described as thoroughly—I originally wanted it to be a reader, but the name just worked in my head.

Anyway, this was for @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan‘s Hamilton Challenge. Be sure to check out the other entries, Star always gets wonderfully talented people to join her challenges (and she still lets me join as well) The amazing @gnomewithalaptop was my wonderful beta for this (like she if for pretty much everything I write) Thank you for all your hard work and kind words! I truly appreciate you. Divider is by the wonderful @whimsicalrogers!

***

Masterlist

Steve was careful with the placement of his feet as he snuck along the outer gates, sticking to the shadows and making sure he wasn’t seen. Throughout the years, he had gotten good at the stealth part of this job. No longer did he burst through doors and knock enemies over the head. Okay, he still knocked people over the head, but he managed to do so in a quieter fashion—as proven by the guards that were knocked out and bound a few yards back. Though he couldn’t take all the credit. His partner this mission certainly had a hand in taking down those guards before they could signal anyone. He chanced a glance back and gritted his teeth as he saw her skip along behind him. Amanda waved as she noticed him looking. He rolled his eyes but refrained from responding beyond that, opting instead to keep going.

Amanda was good at her job; quick and lethal. She was also a pro at getting on his nerves. There was nothing she liked more than getting a rise out of him, and though it took all his self-control not to snap at her, he didn’t take the bait. He knew exactly what her goal was, and he wasn’t about to give her a win. Another win that was. He’d already snapped at her on the plane, and all she had done was smirk. That damned smirk never seemed to leave her pretty face.

He didn’t bother looking back again, knowing that while she might be skipping, she wouldn’t risk being seen. As angry as she made him, she was good at this—trained in the red room and later recruited by Natasha to work for SHIELD. When SHIELD fell, Natasha had made sure to take care of Amanda—Tony had been quick to recruit her for the Avengers.

It was her link to Natasha and their similar training that made her the right partner for this mission, even if he had objected to the choice. It was no secret that Steve and Amanda didn’t play well together. It wasn’t like him and Nat, where conversation flowed and nothing seemed out of bounds. However, with Natasha nursing a sprained ankle and the mission on a deadline, adjustments had needed to be made. Natasha would run point from the jet and Amanda would support Steve.  It didn’t help Steve’s mood to hear Natasha encourage Amanda’s behaviour with every laugh she could not contain. One minute with Amanda, and Natasha lost her ability to keep up her poker face.

And it’s not that Steve disliked Amanda. He understood why everyone liked her. She was a good friend, fun. A little wild at times, but overall nice. However, as soon as they went in the field, she managed to get on his nerves—like today.

During briefing that morning, she’d been telling jokes instead of listening and then, when he tried to update her on the plane, she chose to ignore him and sleep instead. He’d been clenching his teeth since they landed, partly because she still had the ability to still complete the mission with success. Perhaps that’s what annoyed him the most. She had no work ethic, didn’t seem to take anything seriously, but she always landed on her feet. This made it harder for him to reprimand her.

As they made their way to the building they were about to break into, Amanda had been exchanging jokes with Natasha over their communication set. Of course, Natasha could be heard laughing in his earpiece. Amanda whispered proficiently; they wouldn’t be heard unless someone got really close, and they were both too alert to let that happen. They’d staked the place out well enough to know the comings and goings of the few guards the place still held.

With the latest round of laughter clear in his ear, Steve approached the side gate that they were about to breach with anger clear in his steps. The guard placed by the entrance didn’t stand a chance against him, even if he had noticed the pair earlier. Steve swiftly knocked him out, making sure to catch the body before it hit the ground and drag it into the shadows.

Amanda suppressed a smirk as she watched him take his anger out on the unsuspecting guard. She hadn’t seen him slip like that before. Steve never lost his composure; he was the kind of person that appeared to be in complete control of his emotions. At least the Steve she had come to know. Natasha had told her in the past that Steve wasn’t as uptight as she thought he was, but it had been hard to believe. It was part of the reason why she did her best to annoy him. She wanted to break through his hard exterior.

That said, if she messed up this mission because of that desire, she would not be able to forgive herself. As she looked at his angry face, guilt took hold of her for a moment. Then the mask returned and she felt the urge to wipe it off. He seemed proud that he had taken out the guard so swiftly, and Amanda repressed the urge to applaud and instead offered him a smirk as she nodded her head to the side. It was enough to make him frown.

Momentarily confused by the smirk, Steve took half a second too long to notice the second guard that approached them to take over the station. Thankfully, Amanda didn’t miss a beat and she jumped on the man before he saw them—using her thighs to cut off his air supply. Using her weight to manoeuvre him to the shadows where Steve was ready to catch the falling body. She jumped off and quickly grabbed the rope from the rucksack on her back. Amanda made quick work of the knots while Steve kept a careful eye on their surroundings.

Amanda could already see discolouration on the jaw of Steve’s victim and she chuckled; he had really done a number on him. These guards would be sore when they woke up. They’d have a headache and a bruised ego, but unlike her targets before Shield, before the Avengers, they’d live to tell the tale. Exactly as Captain Rogers ordered—she’d been listening far more intently than he thought. When she was done tying up the guards, she stood back up and curtsied, before telling him to take the lead again.

Steve said nothing, the strain in his jaw the only indication that her curtsy pissed him off. Instead, he lightly dusted himself off and edged closer to the gate, making sure there were no other guards around before signalling her to follow him. Without further ado, she followed. He didn’t question it in the moment, and he had not heard the words Natasha had solely directed at Amanda. He’d only heard the words that were meant for him, telling him to ease up and not let her get to him so much. Natasha knew him well.

“She’s only doing it because you respond so readily,” Natasha had told him on several occasions. And though he knew she was right, he just couldn’t help it.

“Mandy,” Natasha’s voice sounded clear in Amanda’s earpiece, “the curtsy might have been a bit much.” Amanda chuckled and agreed softly.

“Perhaps that’s enough pestering for today?” Natasha suggested and Amanda knew she was right. It was like poking a bear but she couldn’t stop herself. Around her, Steve was so strict and uptight, it felt like she needed to take a few jabs just to loosen him up—even if rational thinking told her that this wouldn’t work.

When Amanda had first arrived at the Avengers compound, almost a year ago now, she’d worked hard to make people like her. She had wanted desperately to fit in, to prove that Natasha hadn’t been wrong to bring her in. But it had been difficult for her to adjust to having so many people around her. After years of working alone, Amanda had some issues working with a team. It didn’t help that it had not been her choice to join a team either—she’d been content as a spy, but the fall of SHIELD had blown her cover, and Maria had urged her to always have back up. And despite all of them being kind and welcoming, it had been tough on her.

It had been her second mission when it had all gone to hell in a basket. Her job had been to get in and out quickly; to preserve the coveted information that the stronghold they were breaking into held. Amanda had done her job quickly and sufficiently, but she could not in good conscience leave once she was done. An army, much larger than expected, had descended on her colleagues, and she had jumped into the fray without a second thought.

Steve had been angry since it had given their enemy the chance to undo her work. If they had killed or taken her, it would’ve all been for nothing. It didn’t matter to him that none of that had happened. While he was glad that she had attributed to everyone making it out alive, he had been pissed that she ignored his direct order. It wasn’t something Steve could easily forget or forgive.

“When we go through these gates all communication comes to a halt,” Steve spoke softly, bringing Amanda back to the present.

Natasha was quick to agree, while Amanda pretended to think it over. Upon a stern look from Steve, she held up her hands with a smile, offering defeat. He shook his head, knowing she did it just to get a rise out of him, so he pushed his annoyance down and gave a single nod.

He busted the lock on the gate with his shield and nearly chuckled to himself; apparently he also still burst through doors. Perhaps he hadn’t changed as much as he thought since his early days.

Once they were inside, they easily found the room where their objectives could be found and they were met with little resistance. It felt too easy. And while they went ahead with their mission—retrieving information on a terrorist attack in Washington DC—they were both immediately on edge. Uneasy, Amanda followed the steps that Natasha had provided and hacked into the system, wanting to download everything as quickly as possible so they could get out. Beside her, Steve anxiously paced the room, looking through cracks in the boarded-up windows into the empty hallway—she knew he was as apprehensive as she was.

They quickly learned that they were right to be worried because all too soon they were alerted to trouble by the sound of approaching footsteps.

For weeks, the team had surveyed the place, counting ten guards on any given day. The number of footsteps that they could hear coming closer told them that their information was off. Incredibly off. There was a minimum of two dozen pairs of feet marching their way and Amanda counted down the seconds as she wished for a way to speed up the process. 96%…97%. It went far too slow for her liking. 99%—100. She pulled out the flash drive and secured it in her boot, that way it couldn’t accidentally fall out of a ripped off pocket or a torn rucksack. Losing a shoe would be noticed much faster.

“Let’s go!” Amanda said, and Steve nodded, stepping towards the door they had come in through. He stopped there, seeing the soldiers coming around the corner. He pushed Amanda back into the room, closed the door, and used his shield to break off the handle. It would slow the soldiers down for a moment. Hopefully long enough for them to find another exit.

“Vents,” Steve whispered, and Amanda nodded, the urgency of the moment effectively grounding her. She felt no desire to play with her mission partner.

Instead, Amanda moved quickly and jumped on a chair, successfully swinging to the grate that sat over the vent. Putting her weight on it, she jiggled and managed to get it loose. Steve caught her as she came down. The grate gave a loud clang, but they didn’t care; it no longer mattered. They’d been made and stealth was no longer a requirement, only swift action.

The door rattled as something hit it, and Steve gave Amanda a boost with his shield, making it easy to climb up. She then took his shield from him and crawled back to give him enough room to jump up and climb in. They had only just cleared the room when the first soldiers trickled in.

The vents were small, and it wasn’t easy to manoeuvre through with the shield between them, but they made it work as best they could. The soldiers had chosen not to follow them up the vents, so they had to be wary before climbing down from them—those soldiers would be anticipating their reemergence. Three rooms down, they stopped and listened for movement. When they heard none, they decided to get out of the vents and try the hallways again. They’d be able to move much faster on the ground.

“Once we get out into the hallway, we start running,” Steve said, using his authoritative voice, and Amanda repressed a smart comeback. “We take a left, then a right and we should come up to another side door.” He looked through the floor plans he had saved on his phone. Amanda checked them over his shoulder and noticed two other ways out. Instead of pointing them out, she decided to follow her captain’s lead. A first, and one he was too busy to notice or appreciate, but she would be sure to fill him in once they were safe.

Carefully, they left the room they were in and started running as fast as they could. Steve took the lead, checking ahead and Amanda kept an eye on their rear. Three hallways down, they realised that the floor plan wasn’t accurate. There’d clearly been some unknown construction going on. It fit with their faulty intel. And it left them in a bit of a pickle.

“Left,” Steve ordered, assuming Amanda would follow, but instead she stopped.

“Are you sure?” She asked, looking to the right instead. Both hallways were empty, but something felt off about them. She’d much rather have turned back. The soldiers hadn’t found them yet and there was an eery silence pressing down on them. Even their own footsteps seemed to disappear into the void.

“When I give an order, I expect you to follow it,” Steve spit out, and she couldn’t help but sigh. They’d done so well so far, but now there was a shift in his voice and behaviour, and it irked her. If she had taken a moment to analyse him, she would’ve known he was nervous—but she didn’t take that moment, so she reacted as she always did, because poking the bear was such a hard-to-shake habit of hers.

“I might’ve missed that class,” she said with a happy lilt to her voice, but there was an undertone that raised the hairs on the back of his neck. Steve knew he was treading on thin ice with her, but he couldn’t be bothered to slow down. He was too wired for that.

“Not the only one you missed,” he grumbled, his anger quickly flaring at her nonchalance. It was eery how easily she rattled him.

Logically, he knew that he would have to question her behaviour. To see if it was a mask to hide her true feelings. To wonder if he triggered her as much as she did him. After all, there were others with whom she worked well—Natasha and Sam for starters, and they were two of his closest friends. So why did he continuously clash with her?

“Oh? What else?” she asked, her voice going dangerously low.

“Teamwork,” he said flat.

By now, steam was coming from her ears, and she couldn’t even contradict him. She’d been a spy for so long, trained to close herself off from others, she had forgotten what it was like to be part of a team. Natasha understood this, Sam managed to work around it easily, but as soon as the number of the group rose above three, Amanda balked. And it had pissed off Steve on a number of occasions, which had started their strained relationship. She knew she should work on that, but it was hard to let people in after a life of having to distrust everyone.

It would’ve been so much easier to remain a spy, and sometimes she resented Nat and Steve for blowing her cover when SHIELD fell. Then she reminded herself that they had done what needed to be done and she calmed down. She knew it was reckless to keep her walls so high now, but old habits died hard.

“Care to explain?” she asked, her voice strangely calm. No matter how right he was, nobody liked to have their flaws spelled out to them. Especially not as they were trapped in a building full of enemy operatives. Tensions ran high enough without any snide remarks.

In the jet, Natasha was anxiously awaiting their return. The comms were still down and she was getting more worried by the minute. It appeared that the mission had not gone according to plan, though she had no way of finding out what went wrong. With no other options, she called Tony.

“What’s up, Red?” he asked on the second ring.

“There’s been radio silence for over half an hour,” Natasha said. “Retrieving the info should’ve taken 15 minutes at most.”

“I’ll send Sam your way,” Tony said, knowing that Sam and Clint were only a short distance away for a stakeout.

“Thanks,” Natasha whispered, not reassured. She hung up after promising to keep him updated.   Natasha hated that she was injured. She wished she could go in, but she also knew she was in no shape to help them. She’d make it worse if they were in trouble. They’d have to protect her as well. If something had gone wrong, it would be better if they didn’t need to worry about her. All she could do now was hope Sam would arrive soon, and that they’d turn on their comms again. Still, she strapped on her weapons and readied herself for battle. No limp would stop her from helping her team. She would give them just a little longer to resurface.

“Last week,” Steve hissed at her, bringing her thoughts back to their previous mission, where she’d jumped in front of Sam just as he was about to take a shot. What Sam had not seen, nor had Steve, was that Sam’s target carried a detonator in his hand. If he had let it go, who knew what would’ve blown up. And while they eventually all came to understand her intentions, Steve was angry that she had not told them as she was moving—instead waiting until it was all over and done with, the detonator safely taken from the perpetrator and disarmed.

“I was saving your ass! Would you have liked me to let it go?” she exclaimed, not expecting him to answer. They both knew she was right. “My team was in danger, and I saw an opportunity—you can’t expect me to ignore it,” she lamented after a few seconds of silence, and Steve groaned. He could almost hear Natasha cackling at those words—if she found out, he would not hear the end of it. There was a familiarity in that statement that he wasn’t willing to admit to at this point.

“I’m responsible for keeping all of you safe. I can’t do that, if you keep making your own plans.” Steve said, a little defeated. She was right, but she needed to understand that he was trying to keep her safe as well.

“How about this?” she started, and though the words were promising, the glint in her eyes was menacing and he worried of what was to come. “I’ll follow your orders, unless I see a REALLY good different option?”

Steve groaned, annoyance clear in his body language. He was about to reply when a high pitched beeping interrupted him. He looked back at Amanda, seeing in her eyes the same confusion that he felt. She stepped around him, glancing into both hallways, trying to find the origin of the sound. There was nothing to see. Steve laid a hand on her shoulder and she instinctively stepped closer to him, both of them knowing something was very wrong.

“Aman—“ Steve began, when a loud explosion resounded around them and shook the ground they were standing on.

The wall to their right collapsed and caused cracks to appear in the surrounding walls in rapid succession. Debris came down around them and Steve acted quickly, pulling Amanda into the room to their left and pushing her underneath a sturdy looking desk. He crouched down beside her, using his shield to protect them as much as it could, while the ground kept shaking and they feared that the building would fall down on top of them.

“Nat!” Tony’s voice was sharp, frantic. “Jarvis detected an explosion. What happened?”

“I’m not sure yet. Sam just arrived, but the right wing of the building has collapsed,” Natasha answered, her voice all business, albeit a little breathy, and Tony could tell that she was running. He should’ve known that a sprained ankle wasn’t going to stop her.

“A team is on the way,” Tony informed her and asked her to keep him updated.

Her reply was short, followed by a grunt, and he could only assume she was climbing. Tony hated not being able to help and paced the lab he was currently in. Beside him, Pepper was scouring their information for anything that might help them. Figuring out how their information could’ve been so wrong was a worry for another day. First, they needed to get their people out.

The communication lines had some static and everyone waited with bated breath, hoping to hear their teammates and friends give them some information. They’d settle for anything, as long as they were alive. When the static intensified, Natasha and Sam briefly stopped going up the rubble, hoping to hear something, anything. Relief washed over them when a very welcome voice sounded over the frequency.

“We’re okay,” Steve grunted into the comms.

“Are you hurt?” Sam was the first to speak as everyone relished in the happiness of their survival. His return to business also made Natasha aware of their surroundings again, and she kept an eye out for enemy operatives, while simultaneously scouring the debris for any sign of where Steve and Amanda were.

“Where are you?” Natasha asked, she and Sam moving again. There weren’t any landmarks to guide them, nothing to indicate the location—they would need Steve and Amanda to guide them to where they were.

“The floor plans were off, I’m not sure where we are and we’re stuck,” Amanda answered, strain audible in her voice.

“What do you mean, you’re stuck?” Tony asked. He was hoping to provide the rescue team with as much information as he could.

“Debris is surrounding us. It’ll take a while to get through,” Steve answered now, and they could hear him rummaging.

“Just stay where you are. Let us come to you,” Sam urged them, knowing that a shift in the rocks could cause more debris to fall on them. It would be better to wait for the rescue team that Tony had sent. They’d be able to assess the situation better. An increase in helping hands would also make them move quicker.

“Nat, have you located them yet?” Tony asked a few moments later, his voice calm though an octave higher than usual. Natasha knew he was worried. Especially since it had been his choice to send in a small team. Steve had wanted to play it safe. Based on the information that they had at the time, Natasha had agreed with Tony. She wanted to tell him not to worry, that it wasn’t his fault, but she knew it wouldn’t help. Not until Steve and Amanda were safe, and they’d figured out where it went wrong.

“Not yet, I’ll keep you posted,” she promised without halting her movements. She felt the pain in her ankle increase, but she wasn’t stopping now.

Natasha and Sam encountered no one else; no guards, no casualties. Thus confirming that this had been a preconceived plan. They had been targeted, and it made Natasha feel uneasy. Not only was it supposed to have been her, not Amanda, but it also meant someone had betrayed them. She exchanged a loaded look with Sam, who had come to the same conclusion. Fuelled by anger, she kept going, ignoring her pain and eager to find her friends. She would figure out who had it out for her and Steve, but that was for later. First things first; getting her friends out.

Redwing flew to the right, moving out of sight as they went left—eager to cover as much ground as they could.

“Steve call out!” Sam called loudly as they moved slowly through the rubble. “Mandy!” he added moments later. There was no reply.

They repeated the same action several times. Calling out loudly as they moved, then waiting a minute or two for a reply. The longer it took for anyone to respond, the more frantic they moved over the debris. Finally, a good fifteen minutes after they started searching, Steve called back, and they could breathe a little easier again.

It was then that they arrived at the epicentre of the blast. A thick wall of rubble blocked their path, and as Sam tried to get Red Wing through, they realised that this would not have a quick fix. They’d need proper equipment to get through this without destabilising it.

“What’s the damage?” Natasha asked them, after informing them to sit tight as they worked to get them out. The rescue team was only 30 minutes out now—Tony must have sent for them at the same time as Sam—he must have felt something was off when she called.

“We’re okay,” Steve replied again, avoiding the real question that Natasha had asked. It didn’t escape her notice that this was the second time he and Amanda didn’t answer this question outright.

“What are your injuries?” she asked again, her words more direct and her tone telling them she wasn’t accepting anything other than a straight answer from them.

“I promise we’re okay,” Steve bravely said; defying Natasha was a lot easier when there was a wall of rubble between them, and they both knew it.

“Amanda, what is it?” Natasha pushed, hoping she’d get an honest answer out of the other woman.

“Nat, don’t worry so much, you’ll get wrinkles,” Amanda said with a chuckle, before finally giving the redhead the answers she wanted. “Steve tried to headbutt some rocks, but we all know he’s thickheaded enough to take it in stride. And I’ve just got a little wound on my leg, nothing I won’t survive.”

“How’d you get the wound on your leg?” Natasha pressed again, not trusting the answer she’d gotten. Natasha knew them both well enough to know that they’d downplay a fatal wound if it meant they’d keep everybody calm.

“A piece of rebar nicked me. Steve’s putting pressure on it. I’ll be fine.” The strain that had been in Amanda's voice before got more pronounced, and Natasha and Sam knew they had to move as fast as they could.

“Steve, is it a concussion?” Sam asked for clarification and he groaned when the captain gave an affirmative answer. It wasn’t something that the serum wouldn’t take care of, he’d be fine. However, it also meant that he’d be suffering the consequences now and would be off his game.

“It nicked your leg?” Steve whispered harshly, making sure his words wouldn’t travel. He had turned off the comms to offer them some privacy while he scolded her. He looked at the rebar wire stuck in her leg, she’d definitely downplayed the injury. At least the wire kept the blood in place—for now. If it shifted they’d be in trouble.

“Oh come on, Cap, it won’t do them any good to know that. Those rocks won’t magically disappear if the situation gets more serious.”

“I know that, but they need to know that you’ll need medical attention as soon as we get out of here,” he reasoned. It was one thing for him to pretend he was hardly hurting, another thing entirely to downplay someone else’s injuries.

“I’m sure they saw through our answers,” Amanda countered, and Steve couldn’t deny that. They were both known to fib about these things. Amanda had once been shot on a mission for SHIELD and called it a scratch as a team was dispatched to get her. Steve had lost the trust of his teammates when he began jumping from planes without a parachute.

Steve worked to stabilise her leg as best he could in the limited space they had. The desk was damaged beyond repair, but it provided them with the materials to put a splint on her. To apply it, however, he had to move around and his head was swimming by the time he was done.

“Steve, please sit down,” Amanda urged, reaching out to grab a hold of his arm.

“No, I have to keep going. I have to move some of those rocks,” he stubbornly replied, moving to get up off the floor.

“Don’t be an idiot. Your head must be exploding. Sit down and let me check that wound,” Amanda pressed, pointing at the large gash on his temple where he’d been hit by the debris. She knew he’d be fine eventually, but he’d need to take a rest just like anyone else would with such a blow to the head. He healed faster, but he wasn’t impervious.

“I’m the idiot?” he exclaimed, no longer thinking of the people on the other side of the debris. He failed to hear Sam bark out a laugh over his outburst. Natasha just rolled her eyes. They hadn’t even lasted ten minutes without raising their voices.

“Yes, now sit,” Amanda said calmly.

“That must be a new record,” Tony chimed in on their comms.

“What?” Sam asked, wondering what this was about exactly.

“For them to raise their voices,” Tony explained, and Sam chuckled, he couldn’t deny that. He was just surprised that the sound had travelled through their comms since he was certain that Steve and Amanda had turned theirs off before they had begun arguing.

“Amanda and Steve in close confinement and annoyed,” Tony added, mirth clear in his voice and nobody could blame them.

“Jesus Christ, this will be fun,” Tony laughed, and Natasha could not help but join in.

 “They’ll tear each other apart,” Sam whispered as he began to move loose rocks. He’d have to leave the bigger ones for when back-up arrived.

“We can still hear you,” Amanda said, annoyance audible in her voice as she huffed. She couldn’t possibly tell them they were wrong. Her track record with Steve wasn’t good. She just wished she hadn’t turned her comms back on, she did not need to hear this.

“Oh hush! You two have been getting on each other's nerves non-stop lately. This’ll be good for you,” Tony joked as Natasha began to inform them that they’d be out in no time.

Natasha’s idea of no time wasn’t like Steve’s. It had been two hours and they were still stuck.

Two hours in which the irritation grew and many harsh words were spoken. It began with trying to figure out why their plans had been so far off from reality. Steve claimed it had been her intel. It didn’t matter that there’d been three other people involved in gathering the information, each one verifying everything before accepting it as truth.

Amanda claimed he’d just been too distracted to pay much attention. It didn’t matter that she’d been the one to distract him with her antics.

Then it came to preparation. Apparently, her not listening to the briefing had contributed to their lack of it. She countered that his strict approach left little room to improvise and that could’ve saved them. It didn’t matter that neither one of them could have possibly predicted this. And neither improvisation nor strict rules were able to stop a bomb.

“You’re lucky I moved as quick as I did!” Steve stated angrily.

“I know, I’m glad you bounced the rocks,” Amanda replied with a sweet smile. “They would’ve done real damage to me, but your head hasn’t been used for a while now.”

“Seriously?” Steve stood and paced the little room they had acquired over the last two hours. Outside of their bubble the rescue team could be heard making slow progress. The ruckus they made was wreaking havoc on Steve’s painful head.

“Look, Captain, I get that you don’t like me, but if you could refrain from badgering me every single chance you see me, I might be more pleasant to work with.”

“I don’t badger you every chance I get. I actually swallow my comments quite often,” Steve said innocently, knowing he was getting to her just as bad.

“Not often enough,” she countered with a sigh.

“Perhaps that should be a sign that you need to adjust your attitude. I am your superior in the field, remember.”

“Oh captain, my captain,” she sneered, moving her arms to pretend to bow to him.

“Damn it, Amanda!’ Steve exclaimed. He knew they were just antagonising each other now and it wouldn’t help them. “I just need you to work in a team. We need to be able to rely on each other.”

“You act like I’ve been stabbing you in the back, or dropped someone off a ledge. I’ve done nothing to warrant this.”

“You talked through the entire briefing, which wasn’t the first time. Then, when I tried to get you up to speed, you pretended to sleep.” Steve was getting exasperated. “Tell me, if you don’t take it seriously, how am I supposed to trust you to have my back?”

Amanda was stunned into silence. She had been talking through the briefing, because she had prepared all the points with Natasha. Surely, she could’ve stayed quiet, but it was so easy to piss Steve off and so fun to see him fuming—she hadn’t thought he’d take it this far. And on the jet, she hadn’t actually been pretending to sleep. She’d worked through most of the night and put in some earplugs to get a little shut-eye before they entered enemy territory.

Hearing him talk about the situation from his point of view, made her realise the disconnect in their experience.

“Steve, I’d prepared the briefing. I knew what it said. So did Nat, which was why we’d been joking,” Amanda spoke softly, working to calm herself. “Pissing you off was just a bonus.”

She bit her tongue, scolding herself for adding that last bit. She didn’t need to add any more to the tense situation. She needed to dissolve the situation instead. She loved to joke, to laugh and annoy people from time to time. But she did take her job seriously, and she didn’t like the idea that someone thought she didn’t.

“What?” Steve asked confused, her words had certainly knocked the wind out of his anger.

“I was up late to prepare the briefing with the latest information. I wanted it to be up-to-date in order to make the best decision about the size of our team for it. Especially since you and Tony didn’t see eye-to-eye on that.”

“I didn’t know that. But why didn’t you say something on the plane?”

“I had earplugs in, I knew you were talking, but didn’t think much of it. I figured you were either berating me for something or complaining. I just wanted to get some shut-eye, so I ignored it.”

“Those are some earplugs,” Steve said skeptically. He’d never heard of earplugs that cut out that much noise.

“Stark invention,” Amanda said apologetically.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“I think we might have to work on our communication when we get out of here,” Steve said after a few moments of silence, sheepishly scratching the back of his head. He had never really noticed how much of their interactions were based on assumptions.

Amanda could only nod in agreement. He was right. It appeared that much of their animosity was based on miscommunication and expectations—they’d need to figure that out before they went into the field again.

“Do my ears deceive me?” Tony’s voice rang through the silence that followed. “Did they just have their first mature conversation?”

“It appears so. Weird,” Sam replied, a smile clear in his voice—he and Tony were enjoying this. Thankfully, Natasha was wise enough to keep her commentary to herself. For now. Amanda was certain that she’d hear the ridicule when there was no longer a wall dividing them.

Getting them from their prison took another two hours. Hours that were mostly spent in quiet contemplation and gentle inquiries to the other’s health. Amanda had been very aware of the wincing that Steve did whenever he moved quickly—despite the serum in his veins and the years of head butting, he was in pain—and she wondered how a concussion would influence him. She’d be down for the count.

Steve couldn’t muster much speech without betraying his pain and he was still too proud to show much weakness in Amanda’s presence. Instead, he focussed on her pain, which was much easier to do. And though she barely groaned when the rocks around them moved and more debris fell on them, he knew she was in trouble when blood began to trickle from her wound.

By the time they were out in the fresh air, the atmosphere between them had changed, and while they hadn’t worked through all their issues, there was a silent agreement to keep from arguing until they had. Amanda tried to keep her joking to a minimum, and Steve bit his tongue whenever she did something he disagreed with. It wasn’t easy—years of animosity wasn’t easily forgotten, but they both made the effort and recognised the effort made.

On the plane, Amanda tried her best to be her joking happy self, but her blood pressure began to plummet halfway through and worry took hold of her teammates and friends. Her skin paled, turning ashen, and she went quiet. Nobody was used to her quiet demeanour, and it quickly informed them how serious this was. Amanda was loud on a bad day—this was apparently worse than bad.

Arriving at the compound, Amanda was rushed off to surgery, where the rebar was removed from her leg, so the damage could be properly assessed. The wire had nicked an artery and it was much more serious than Amanda had tried to make it out to be. The surgery lasted hours and by the time it was finished, it was late into the evening. Helen Cho had sent everyone to bed, citing rest as a remedy from surgery, so when Amanda woke up she thought she was all alone. She soon found out how wrong she was.

“Still got the leg I see.”

Steve’s voice startled her and she quickly looked to the dimly lit hallway where Steve was leaning against the doorframe. He seemed unsure of himself and she couldn’t blame him. Despite their conversation, there was still a lot of animosity they’d have to work through, and it was tough to determine where they stood with each other now. Should they talk? Be friendly? Make an appointment? Amanda didn’t know, so she followed his lead—humour.   “Well, I asked for a wooden one, but they wouldn’t budge—said it was overkill,” Amanda said, shrugging.

“And here I thought you were attempting a whole new career path,” Steve replied with a smile. Amanda hadn’t noticed how cute he was when he smiled. Perhaps because he rarely smiled in her presence.

“Piracy was a lifelong dream,” Amanda said, trying to sound as earnest as possible.

“Sorry, they thwarted your dreams.” Steve chuckled, cautiously stepping into the room and taking a seat by her bed. He was told to rest by his doctor, but he hated having to wake up every two hours and decided to stay up entirely instead. Perhaps walking around was pushing it, but he had felt the need to check up on Amanda.

“I guess I’ll just have to annoy you a while longer.” Amanda winked at him and Steve grimaced dramatically.

“That might not be such a bad thing,” Steve added a moment later with a shy smile, looking at her through his lashes, and Amanda could not help but laugh. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad.

“Captain, my captain.”

#Steve Rogers #Steve Rogers x OFC #Steve Rogers Fanfiction #star’s hamilfilm lyric challenge #Animosity #Marvel Fanfiction

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concealeddarkness13 · 3 years

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WHG Post Games Nesri Part 2

Tagging: @ratracechronicler (also thanks for Rebecca!), @maple-writes (also thanks for Cirrus!), @nightskywriter, @rhikasa, @pen-of-roses, @aeslin-writes, @the-moving-finger-writes, @knmartinshouldbewriting, @makeitmonstrous, and @timefirewrites!

I pounded my fist on Zenith’s door. He had been in there for two days now. It was time to make him leave. Cirrus and Rebecca had decided to join me.

When there was no answer, I growled and knocked harder. “Hey, you loser! Stop hiding in there and tell us what’s going on! Why did you sneak out, and what happened that made you ask Asher to knock you unconscious? What kind of reckless shit did you get into?”

There was a groan on the other side of the door, but that was it. I scoffed, crystallized water from the drink I was holding, and cut through the hinges with it (the crystals are stronger than diamonds). I kicked the door open and walked in with my hands on my hips.

Zenith had been lying down, but he scrambled up when we walked in. He glared at me. “Leave me alone.”

I grabbed him by his shirt collar. Why was his seclusion making me so pissed off? “Like hell I will! Tell us what’s going on!”

Rebecca spoke up. “Yeah! We’re not getting any younger here, and Lynn and Lynne aren’t getting any freer!”

He bowed his head so that his eyes were shadowed. “I went to go see my old team.”

Before he could continue, I tightened my grip on his collar and shook him. “You fucking idiot! Did you sell us out to them? Do they know where we are?”

Rebecca looked around as if she could see hidden cameras, and Cirrus crossed his arms. “How do you know they didn’t follow you home? Clearly they aren’t on our side.”

Zenith took a deep breath. “I was able to convince them to trust me, at least a little. And I would have been able to sense them following me. I’m not that incompetent. I sought them out because they had already sent me a message saying that they were looking for me. If I hadn’t met with them, I know they would have found us. So, I took the chance.”

I still didn’t let go of his collar. How many supposed friends who had the magic had promised me that they wouldn’t hunt me after I ran away? And they did anyway. “Forgive me for not having as much faith in these Capitol idiots as you do. I guess I can trust that you would have been able to sense anyone following you, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t still looking for us, no matter what they told you. That was such a stupid fucking move.”

Cirrus nodded. “And what if it hadn’t worked? If Asher hadn’t managed to knock you out? If something went wrong?” His voice dropped low. “Don’t think for a second I wouldn’t have killed you if it came down to it.” Despite the anger I felt, a rush of excitement passed through me. I had to get him to spar with me. Rebecca’s eyes widened, and she tried to stay out of Cirrus’s line of sight.

Zenith looked him dead in the eyes. “I would have wanted you to.”

I let go of his collar. He had done something stupid, but yelling at him wouldn’t really help. Even if it did make me feel better. Instead, I grabbed his arm and started pulling him out of his bed. “You’re going to make it up to us by watching the special program the Capitol is hosting. You even have to make the popcorn for us.” I tried to make my voice sound happy, but I couldn’t keep out the anger that I still felt. Hopefully, no one noticed.

“And keep your senses sharp for those possible, y’know, spies,” Rebecca added.

Zenith didn’t say anything as I monitored him while he made the popcorn and drinks for us. Hey, since we had someone to bully, we might as well make the most of it. So, we just settled down to watch the program, and when Zenith tried to retreat, I glared at him until he sat down next to me. I did text Shine to keep an eye out for any hidden devices that could spie on us.

The TV flickered, and a close-up of Caesar Flickerman’s ugly face showed up, but I didn’t even have it in me to throw popcorn at him. My blood was still boiling.

He laughed at us. “We have a special program for our dear watchers tonight! A special division of the Capitol is pleased to announce a new recruit to their ranks. She even received the prestigious magic as well!” He gestured to the side, but I didn’t even react as Lynne walked on stage. I was frozen. No. No, no, no. This couldn’t be happening. The Shades. They had gotten to her. It was obvious in how she walked, even with a radiant smile on her face. She was still in pain from the “ceremony”.

I barely heard Rebecca say anything. “Magic? Isn’t that maybe a good thing? Or…” Zenith glanced back and shook his head. But I couldn’t tear my eyes away.

Caesar clapped Lynne on the back, and she almost fell. Another sign that she was in pain. She should be fine in high heels. “How has your time with the Shades been? I bet the magic is amazing!”

She laughed, and it was clear that it wasn’t genuine. “I have not been able to practice with the magic much yet, so I cannot say for sure. But I did meet someone because of the Shades, and for that I am happy. The victor, Hugo Atwater, was a lot of help. I want to thank him, personally, for his help.” She winced, and her hand went up to where the shocker was.

Caesar just laughed and gestured for something else off-stage. Churi (with his usual long, silver hair and red eyes) walked up as two Avoxes lugged a basin of water toward Lynne. I clenched my fists so tightly that my knuckles turned white as I stared at Churi.

Caesar grinned at him. “Could you give us some more specifics on this brilliant magic while we get set up?”

Churi nodded, smirking. “This magic is difficult to transfer and can cause severe pain during transfer, which is why we usually use children for the transfer, since their bodies are normally more willing to take the magic. It is a testament to the strength of Ms. Marne that she was able to withstand the transfer. The magic allows the user to create crystals that are harder than diamonds out of any liquid that is within a certain radius from the user. Activating the magic allows the user to glow and float because of the outrush of power. It is a strong power, as you will see from this demonstration.” He gestured over at Lynne as the Avoxes set the basin down in front of her.

“Wait, that’s what you did—with the hinges,” Rebecca said. And then a delayed, “Are you okay?”

Zenith was eyeing me, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the screen, couldn’t even respond. Churi snapped his fingers, and Lynne flinched. She raised her hands, and she started to float, while multi-colored light danced on her skin like fire. She gritted her teeth and waved her hand, and some of the water in front of her jumped up and transformed into sharp pieces of crystal. Tears started streaming down her cheeks as she waved her hand again, and the shards slammed into the Avoxes’s arms, and they fell down, their expressions twisted in pain. She deactivated the magic as the audience applauded, and the camera turned back to Caesar and Churi. In the background, Lynne was running to the Avoxes, crying even more, but then she collapsed with a whine and curled up on herself.

Churi looked fake concerned. “Unfortunately, the magic can be overwhelming, but I think that was a good demonstration, don’t you, Caesar?”

He laughed. “Simply magical.” He grinned at his own joke as the audience actually laughed. “Ms. Marne should be applauded for her bravery in volunteering to receive this magic. That’s all for—” I shut the TV off, cutting Caesar and his stupid laugh off.

“She should’ve just hit Caesar with it if they were gonna make her do it anyway!” Rebecca.

Cirrus was hissing under his breath.

And I just sat there, staring at the blank screen. How? How could they? I closed my eyes, but screams and fear and pain and bright rooms that they swore weren’t for torture but totally were and dark alleyways and rain and lightning and panic and…

I opened my eyes, breathing heavily. I…I had failed. They had hurt her. I clenched my drink too tight, and power rushed through me, and all of the drinks in the room crystallized. Zenith put a hand on my shoulder, but I just shook it off.

“Those bastards hurt her.” A whisper first but then louder. “Those bastards hurt her, and we let them do it!” I was shaking. “I…I’ve been so scared to go back to them, but they took her, and they’ll probably take us, and there’s nothing we can do about it.” People sneaking up and pointing guns at me, just saying that they wanted to keep me safe from myself. “There’s no running from them. No escape. They always told me that, and like an idiot I didn’t believe them. They’ll never let up. They’ll—”

“Nesri!” Zenith. I gasped and shut up.

Tears fell down my cheeks and a sob wracked my body. “I can’t go back to them! I won’t! And they have Lynne, and I can’t imagine what they’re putting her through!” Churi smirking at me as I screamed. “I…I can’t… Not again.” Someone put a strong arm around me, and I sobbed into their shirt. It was too much. And I condemned Lynne to the same fate.

When I opened my eyes, Cirrus was handing me a glass of milk. “They’re not going to get to you, you’re safe here, okay? If they want to get to you, they have to go through all of us.”

I sniffled and took the offered glass. “I need to spar you now so I can let off steam.”

He scoffed. “What you need is to sit down. You can’t kick my ass if you’re crying.”

I sighed. “Later then.” I glanced over at Zenith. He looked baffled about what happened. He must not have been used to dealing with something like this. “You’re my witness that he agreed.”

He grumbled but stayed close as I took deep breaths and relaxed. Rebecca spoke up. “Hey…those people…I’m sorry about what they did to you. And Lynne. But we’re gonna set this right. It’s gonna get better, okay?”

“Thanks.” I sighed and closed my eyes. I was safe, and I was around friends. Everything was fine. We just had to make sure we stole the Lynn(e)s from the bastards now.

I sat on my bed, my head in my hands. If I tried to fall asleep, I would just have nightmares. Whenever I closed my eyes, I could still see flashes of my time with the Shades.

There was a soft knock on the door, and when I didn’t say anything, the door opened to reveal Triel. She didn’t have her hat or coat on, and she walked lightly over to me. She had a blanket and two mugs of tea balanced in her hands. She handed me one of the mugs, wrapped the blanket around me, and snuggled under it with me.

She leaned against my shoulder. “I heard what happened this evening. I’m sorry.”

I took a sip. “I should have known that they would take her. What if they can control her better than they can control me? What if she is not able to fight their control? Will we have to keep her locked up the whole time?”

She kissed me on the forehead. “We’ll figure something out, love. But I wasn’t talking about her. I was talking about you. I’d prefer to not see you stay awake all night.”

I took a deep breath. “I’m fine. I just can’t get them out of my head…”

Triel hugged me tightly and kissed my cheek, lingering and snuggling her nose into my cheek. I closed my eyes and leaned into her embrace, but then Churi’s face flashed in my mind, and I tensed and sat up again.

Triel kept hugging me. “What are the laws the Capitol, in all its wisdom, came up with after the Shades pushed them to?”

I frowned over at her. “Are you trying to distract me?”

She smirked at me. “Could it work?”

I shrugged. “The Capitol made laws to control the people who got the magic. They can’t use their magic except when they are contracted by a citizen or at the command of the Shades. They actually can’t do anything except when a citizen contracts them to do something. And they can’t have children.”

Triel nodded. “Well, I thought I could distract you with my backstory.” I frowned. She had never wanted to tell anyone, even me, about her past. “The Shades are concerned that people born of the ones with magic will inherit the magic. My mother has the magic. The person she loved didn’t have the magic, but they were able to meet in secret, and she hid that she was pregnant. But when she had me, the Peacekeepers came and took me away from her. They put me in a small boat and put me out to see as an infant. I guess they couldn’t bring themselves to kill an infant, for some reason. I was supposed to die, but Nora, Captain Skeates, found me and took me in. All I have from my mother is this necklace.” She pulled out the necklace that she always wore from under her shirt. It had a tiny crystal in the shape of a heart attached to it.

I stared at the necklace. It was a very intricate use of the magic. “I’m so sorry. I never knew.”

She scoffed. “I wasn’t telling you this because I wanted you to be sorry for me. I knew you had been curious about my past for a while.” She winked. “And they were right. I do have a diluted form of the magic. I have a smaller radius that I can use liquid to make crystals, and I can’t float, but I can glow. I haven’t showed off my magic since I don’t want the Shades to know about me. But I have enjoyed experimenting with it in secret.”

I grimaced, flashing back to the Shades. Triel snuggled closer to me, and her movement snapped me out of it. I took a shaky breath. “The Shades have hurt so many people. And they continue to hurt more people. And they give us this cursed magic.”

Triel set down her mug and held my face in her hands. “This magic can be passed down. That means they can’t control it. And we’re out of their control too. We have defied them, and we won’t let them take us back. They’re not as powerful as they seem.”

I nodded, and she let go of my face and leaned against me again. I closed my eyes, but instead of seeing the Shades, I just focused on Triel. We sat together until I fell asleep.

#writeblr hunger games #whg #writeblr

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brucewayneargento-moved · 3 years

Text

To All My Fathers (Chapter 1)

Fic also avaliable on Ao3

TW: EXPLICIT DEPICTIONS OF LIFE OF A LEUKEMIA/CANCER PATIENT

Damian had definitely decided he would not wear a fanny pack.

It didn’t matter that it was the most convenient and comfortable way to take a chemo pump iv from place to place. He’ll much rather attract attention with a backpack connected to a pump than to regress back to the eighties in the most horrendous fashion. Sure he might pick up unwanted attention from strangers but A) He could always stare at them back; B) He was past the time to care and C) He already didn’t have eyebrows so that was kind of a moot point.

The boy was currently seated at the med bed of the 666 room. (Drake had made several jokes about it, which Damian didn’t mind and in fact encouraged, because with his diagnosis came a morbid sense of humor and he was also glad at least one person still treated him like a human being). He was practicing violin while he could still hold it and also enjoying the fact that he was wearing actual comfortable clothes and not a paper robe that made his autism completely and utterly fucking lose it.

“This was Ode To Joy by Bethoveen,” Damian explained. The three children around him applauded. When they stopped he could still hear hands clapping, he looked up and his eyes met his father’s.

Bruce came closer to him and the kids left after being called by a nurse. Boy and man looked at each other for a few seconds.

“Are you ready?” Bruce finally asked

Damian might have sounded insane if he said it outloud, but his father and Jon were very similar.

And it’s not like Damian was annoyed by their emotions as one might have thought, it was more of a...sting, (man being stabbed with a needle on a daily basis was really taking a toll on him, wasn’t it?) like, something that hurt but it wasn’t enough for him to do anything about it more than to grit his teeth and power through it.

Numbness was apparently a common thing among patients. But Damian thought of himself as many stuff, but common wasn’t one of them

And perhaps his ego was the only thing keeping him optimistic, perhaps thinking that he was too special to die alone in a hospital room was what made him stronger against the whole GvHD thing.

Or at least that was the original plan.

“Yes.” he finally answered, standing up.

When all you receive in your life is gaslighting, you don’t even notice the medical gaslighting.

Maybe it was the whole “being indoctrinated since birth by an ecoterrorist death cult” thing but his ability to exercise his free will hadn’t been particularly developed.

When he woke up both his parents were there. Damian could immediately tell something was wrong. His father was crying and his mother was stoic.

"Oh, ok, so I'm dying" He said, grabbing their attention. Both Talia and Bruce turn to look at him. Damian tried to sit and noticed his arm was cranked to an IV. "Oh, I'm actually dying."

"Do not speak like that." His mother warned him with a threatening voice. Bruce kept quiet but still with a face wet with tears.

"Damian," she fixed her glasses and looked at the clipboard she was holding. "Your blood count is in the 200.000 white cells."

Damian's eyes slightly widened, which covertly hid how much of a gut punch he just received.

"I can't have leukemia," he simply stated. There was a slight pained sound coming from his father's mouth which made Damian look him in the eye…that's how he knew it was true.

He started to grin which turned into a giggle which turned into a laugh.

Bruce and Talia looked at him with worry.

"Denial is very common," Leslie stated, trying to remain calm and also sooth Damian up. The teen kept laughing and then stopped to talk.

He had tears in his eyes. "I mean... so much for being an eugenics frankenstein monster, I've failed at even that."

Of course Dick had been the first one to enter the room.

Damian had hoped that he wasn’t but after all it made sense that he did, he was his Robin. He could imagine him punching a wall and screaming when he heard the news. That mental image didn’t upset him at all, clearly.

All of the walls he had been building up until now feel down hard. Damian just had to press his head against Dick’s shoulder for the tears to start running.

"I want a falafel."

They were in the hospital room after a particularly hard session of chemo. His brother was on a chair in front of him reading a book and not looking at him.

"You just threw up on my shoe," he reminded Damian.

"I'm here for a good time, not a long time"

"How are we?" She asked.

"Great." Both responded almost robotically. Damian gagged.

"I wanted to talk to you, Dick, about the bone marrow transplant."

"Why not talk to me?" Damian intervened. "I'm the one whose blood isn't working."

"We're considering the umbilical cord transfusion." Leslie explained. "But you will have to ask my godson first.

"Why would he need to...wait...Selina's pregnant?!" Damian asked but then he threw up again. "That wasn't meant to signify my feelings on the matter."

Leslie continued. “But that will still take a few months and...I’m afraid we don’t have that much time.”

Damian pretended to gag and looked down at the bucket, all to avoid looking at Dick’s face.

“But the good news is that we found a match.”

Damian hadn’t even had time to think about that sentence before he blurted it out, but now it was there, out in the open. For everyone to hear.

“I want to have children.”

“I...did not know that.” Alfred admitted. Up to twelve seconds ago he had been standing up listing the symptoms of chemo at Damian’s request since he didn’t trust Leslie to do it without sugarcoating it and his father might burst into tears in an attempt to do so. Damian had been listening attentively before Alfred mentioned that it was possible that he might wind up being infertile.

The boy simply turned around to the other side of the bed and sighed as tears left his eyes.

Dear Damian

Best Wishes

Ravi.

They stayed in comfortable silence in the car with only the sound of “dad music” on the radio for background noise. Damian allowed himself to close his eyes and to feel the soothing bounce of the car against the pavement on his skin...

They stopped suddenly after a while and Damian opened his eyes, he frowned in confusion as Alfred parked the car in front of the airport.

“What are we doing here?” he asked curiously.

Alfred turned around to look at him. “Your father , Master Richard and I thought It’ll be a good idea to fly in a friend of yours.”

Damian’s frown deepened. “A friend?”

Suddenly a tap was heard on the window. They both turned around to look at the front window. It was being slightly knocked on it by a man with a white cane and a bald head who was smiling at them.

“Ravi?” Damian rubbed his eyes and felt them watering up.

Damian knew that he could never make up to Ravi for being responsible for losing his vision. And he also knew that in spite of that the man would still love him unconditionally.

That could be proven easily by the letters that he had written to him when he found out about his diagnosis…

All his father figures were here, suddenly he felt an internal strength he hadn’t felt in a while.

#tw // cancer #tw cancer #tw: cancer #terminal illness #damian wayne #dick grayson #ravi #bruce wayne #alfred pennyworth #dc comics #batman #robin #nightwing #my post #my fic

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diazevan · 5 years

Text

viii. stab wound

Infinity War AU inspired by this amazing fanart by @cottoncandyofterror

Thanos pushed Tony down into a sitting position and with a firm hand cradled his head, “You have my respect, Stark.” He spoke with an unwelcoming gentle tone, “When I'm done, half of humanity will still be alive."

Tony coughed violently, blood trailed down his chin, as he struggled to force air back into his shocked lungs.

Thanos stood up, “I hope they remember you.” He proclaimed with a sneer, he held out the gauntlet, ready to go for the kill. “Stop!” Peter’s small but valiant voice screamed as he charged across the planet’s surface. Tony’s stomach twisted violently, he didn’t care if he died. So, what if he got stabbed by his own armour? Screw it, he always knew Iron Man would kill him in the end. Now, that’s fucking poetic, isn’t it? If that was the universe’s plan for Tony, so be it. He’ll take it. He would willingly go gentle into that good night if it meant Thanos didn’t get his grubby fingers on another stone. Thanos did not gain anything from killing Tony. He wouldn’t get the stone. He didn’t win. He would be stuck in the same place he was before. Peter was a different story. Yes, Tony was happy to die for this, but that was before Peter came charging into the jaws of hell. Now, Tony knew he couldn’t die. He had to save his kid. Peter was strong, one of the strongest people Tony knew and loved, but not for this. Never for this. “Peter…” Tony choked out a mouthful of blood, “No, don’t!” Peter’s mask was deactivated, so they could see his face. Tony swallowed the lump in his throat because he knew why Peter wore a mask. It was a way to hide how he scared he was. So, if he didn’t have his mask on, it only meant one thing. It wasn’t working. The suit must have malfunctioned in battle. Peter skidded to a stop, near Thanos. Surprisingly, Peter didn’t falter. He didn’t even cave and look over at Tony. Tony knew that Peter wore a bravado, he’d seen him crumble under the weight of his responsibilities many times but he had never seen him like this before. This was unprecedented. Peter looked determined, unphased by the challenge in front of him. Almost as if, he was sure that he was going to win this fight. It was a facade, yes. Peter was terrified, no doubt about it, he could tell by the way the kid’s hands were shaking by his sides, but he still applauded his guts, even though he didn’t want to see this scene unfold. Thanos turned, clearly also impressed by Peter’s strength, “Little insect.” He greeted, with a smirk. “Actually…” Peter tilted his head to his shoulder, “I’m an arachnid.” Peter leapt up and spun mid-air, kicking Thanos in the jaw. Tony tried to move but he was met by a wall of pain. His vision blurred, and he reluctantly dipped his chin to his chest as he fought to stay awake. He could hear the fight but he feared not being able to see what was unfolding. Everything happened so quickly, that Tony hadn’t had the time to unpack everything wrong with the fact that Peter decided to educate Thanos on the difference between insects and arachnids.

“Stark.” Strange’s voice said warily, “Don’t move.” He pressed a hand against Tony’s shoulder. Tony shook his head and pushed him away, “No, help Peter. You gotta…” He stopped pleading when he looked up at Strange, whose face softened. Tony shook his head when he realised what the look meant, “This is it, isn’t it? The one…” The one in fourteen million. The future Strange had seen where they won and Thanos lost. “If I tell you what happens…” Strange breathed, “It won’t happen.” Tony fought against his grip, “If my kid dies…” He hissed through gritted teeth, “It’s on you.” He didn’t mean that, not really. He understood that Strange was trying to do what was best for the universe. But in Tony’s eyes, damn, the universe, if the only way to save it, is to sacrifice Peter Parker. Tony would watch the universe burn, or be the one to destroy it if it meant he could save his kid. With that, Strange left, probably to locate the absent Guardians. Peter was still fighting Thanos, and he was doing exceptionally brilliantly. He was using the planet’s dodgy gravitational pull to his advantage, swinging out of harm's way whenever Thanos went to grab him.

Tony quickly patched up his wound using a serum from his suit. He’d only looked away for a second, and that’s when Peter yelped. Tony’s heart thudded, heavy in his chest, as he looked up. Thanos’ hand was wrapped around Peter’s throat, he held him up high as if he were a trophy, Peter kicked his chest, trying to break free. Tony leapt to his feet but doubled over, “Kid…” “You’re brave, little one.” Thanos praised, “But you’re weak...” Peter kept kicking, standing his ground, “No…” He cried out, "You're..." “Hold still.” Thanos quipped, “This will be quick.” Tony's focus shifted onto Peter's frailing arm. Thanos was using his non-gauntlet wielding hand to choke Peter. This meant, he was vulnerable, and too caught him in his monologue that he was letting the gauntlet wielding hand swing freely by his side. This gave Peter, the perfect opportunity. The kid was putting up an act by kicking and screaming. It gave Thanos the ego boost he craved, watching someone squirm under his thumb; Peter webbed up the gauntlet, now all he needed was the right pull. The first rule, all new superheroes should learn. One of the first Tony lessons taught Peter. Never watch the mouth, always watch the hands. It was obvious that Thanos had failed on that one. Tony let out a strained breath as he forced himself up onto his feet, “Hey, Barney!” He bellowed. “Don’t worry, Stark.” Thanos turned to look at him, “Your time will come.” Peter used this moment of distraction to swing his arm back. It was almost effortless, how the gauntlet slipped off and soared through the sky. Quill flew down, and caught it, he tossed it down to Strange, who was waiting underneath. Thanos was almost foaming at the mouth when he turned his attention back to Peter. The sixteen-year-old who’d foiled his plans. Peter was still in a chokehold. Thanos could easily kill him if he simply tightened his hand around his throat. Tony didn’t have long, “Peter!” He charged, ignoring the pain he was in, for Peter. Peter, though, had a plan. He grabbed onto Thanos’ arm, and span, kicking the Titan’s jaw with both feet. Thanos was caught up in his anger at his defeat and didn’t have time to retaliate. Tony watched as Peter lifelessly crashed to the ground, rolling on his side a few times, before he stilled. “Peter…” Tony started to run, muttering his name, like a mantra. Before he could get to him, Nebula careened forward, she swung her sword and with a single swoop, beheaded Thanos. It was over. Just like that, they won. Tony didn’t get caught up in celebration, he dropped by Peter’s side. The kid was out cold. His skin was devoid of all colour, and his breathing was uneven. Up close, Tony saw the damage Thanos had caused. Peter’s neck was an art gallery of bruises. Peter had fought back and got the gauntlet of, all why being choked to death. Tony didn’t care what had been said in the past, Peter was the strongest Avenger. Sixteen years old, and he did it. He was the one in fourteen million, helped by Nebula. They’d go down in history books together. Yes, Tony wanted Peter to go down in the history books, years from now, but what he didn’t want was to read an obituary. “Kid?” Tony pressed his hand against Peter’s cheek, “Hey, can you hear me?” His voice wavered as he gently shook Peter’s shoulder, “Come on, kid. You did it.” He leaned down, brushing his fingers back through Peter's curls, “Imagine what Ned’s gonna say about this, hey? We’ll never shut him up.” He blinked away tears as he shook him, “May’s gonna ground you, you know? She’ll probably ground me too, don’t you think?” Peter didn’t flinch, and with that, Tony’s defences crumbled, “Kid, come on, please.” He pleaded as he tugged Peter closer, “Wake up!” Peter bolted upright, gasping for air. “Hey, hey.” Tony caught his wrists and held them gently down against Peter’s chest, “It's me. You’re okay, it’s over.” Peter let out a shaky laugh. Oh, only he could laugh when he’d just come face-to-face with death, “That was scary.” He coughed out, as he closed his eyes, and let out a slow pained breath. “Yeah. We won, kid.” Peter blinked his eyes open, “We did?” “Yeah, kid.” Tony smiled proudly, “You saved us.” “That’s awesome.” Peter grabbed onto Tony’s wrist and pulled himself into a sitting position, Tony wasted no time in dragging him into his arms, holding him as tight as he possibly could, “...Mr. Stark?” “Yeah?” “I thought…” Peter muttered, a ring of sarcasm in his tone, “I thought we weren’t there yet.” Tony rolled his eyes, as he held on tighter, “We’re there, kid.” He pressed a kiss against Peter’s cheek. Tony had been stabbed, he hadn’t even healed yet. He knew one thing though, the pain he was in, would never amount to the agony he felt in those few moments where he thought he had lost Peter Parker.

#liberty's writing #infinity war au #peter parker #tony stark #thanos #stephen strange #irondad #iron dad #irondad fanfiction #iron dad fanfiction #whumptober2019 #no.8 #stab wound #tw swearing #tw violence

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