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sugoi-writes · 2 months

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Alastor x Reader - First Time, First Deal

A/N: Let me preface this with: yes, I am aware that Alastor is ace (and likely aroace). This is simply a work of fiction and nothing more! I tried keeping things pretty tame for the most part, but there's an opportunity for spice later down the road, should anyone enjoy this.

The reader uses she/her pronouns. The reader is a sinner whose body is essentially a ghost that changes/become corporal at times. Reader is EXTREMELY touch starved. (And let's be honest, aren't we all?) This part is fluffy and sickeningly sweet, with room for angst and smut down the road... so please enjoy my newfound brainrot~

Your time spent with the Hazbin Hotel had been progressing more positively than you hoped. Being a demon with a semi corporal body came with ups and downs... namely, that you had a hard time controlling your body's functions.

During bouts of anger or sadness, your body would change. You'd usually becoming hard, jagged, and brutal, or, one that you feared most: you became completely invisible. The only person who seemed to understand appeared to be Alastor, the infamous Radio Demon. Despite being a reserved, somewhat distant person... he seemed to either understand or take pity on your situation.

You felt confident in his companionship, moreso as your sleepless nights crept upon you. You had all but sobbed in his private quarters, lamenting how touch starved you were. How the only time you've felt the touch of another being was during fits of rage or in conflict. When defending the hotel, you typically get pretty banged up and bruised. The sensations you did experience were never good... and you longed for something that felt right. Something that felt REAL and gentle.

Alastor seemed more than sympathetic, and would listen and even humor you. When your world was crumbling in, he always managed to make you smile and laugh... And the bond between the two of you festered, before erupting to an untamable flame.... at least, you knew it did for you.

When you were close to him, you found your body's hues changing... bright, soft pinks would flood your visage, especially in your face. Angel Dust would tease you especially hard, causing flecks of green and red to appear: annoyance, anger.... No matter your emotions and despite your best attempts, they were always on your sleeve.

One night in particular, you were having a very difficult time. You had thought back to your life in the human realm, to living on Earth... You had shared many things with others. Touch, kisses, and... more intimate gestures. You could imagine the sensations, but never experience them on your own. No, you would need someone that you TRULY trusted to help you... someone whose touch would be as rare as your predicament. Someone who wouldn't taint that touch with ulterior motives. Someone who wouldn't take advantage of your vulnerable state the second your walls caved in.

You had thought to ask Angel initially, but didn't want it to appear that you were using a sex worker only for his body... you had considered other sinners you met along the way, many of which who had left the hotel.

But there was one constant that crossed your mind: Alastor.

And with that, against your better judgment, you rapped quietly against his oak door. You were sheepish, hoping that he would be asleep, or too busy to answer. Hues of purple swirled through your body, as you felt your shape ebb and flow... the parts that felt real, the ones you could sense... they were soft, and just as pliable as your mind.

But you had no time to linger as the door to the Radio Demon's chambers creaked open. You fumbled with your appearance as Alastor's eyes and grin fell upon you, a singular brow raised.

"My Dear, it's quite late in the evening... are you troubled? Struggling to sleep again?" Alastor opened the door entirely, allowing you to enter. You nod, before nervously walking past the threshold. No going back now, you thought.

"I-- I know, Alastor. I hate bugging you so late at night, but-- you're the only person who can help me with my-- issue." Hues of hot pink swirled within you as Alastor gingerly closed his door, his head cocking to the side.

" Would you like to have tea with me, then? Perhaps something warm could help ease your--"

"Warmer than that," you practically yelped, your hands flying to mouth to cover it. You sigh, as your colors fluctuated again, your body acting as a kaleidoscope for Alastor to observe.

"I... i only ask of you because, well-- I feel like you would handle this... respectfully. Delicately." Alastor continues to grow more interested, the light emitting from you dancing about his chambers.

"Well, trying not to assume what you may need me for, I am flattered that you considered me for the task. I can assure you, a gentleman will always take the qualms of the fairer means seriously... Discreetly, if need arises."

Alastor's grin grows, a familiar glow reaching his wide eyes," Now then... what dea--.... arrangement... have you come to propose?"

You turn to face Alastor, your face warm as you spew your feelings at him, deep from your core. Your colors flash, swirling and colliding with each other haphazardly as you speak. At first, Alastor is intrigued, then appalled, and the more that you spill... the more his mind shifts. He can clearly see you weren't here for some petty favor, or a sinner's gambit... You were here for something more earnest than that. He should have known better than that, regarding you... You, the sinner who didn't deserve to be trapped here in Hell.

"I want-- I just want my first time in Hell to be with someone I can trust. In fact, it's only possible IF I can trust that person," you quickly added, advancing a few paces towards him.

For the first time since you've entered, you're silent. You don't make a sound as Alastor struggles to form a response. His eyes seem a little hazy, lost... You've stupefied him into speechlessness.

You sigh, your colors becoming more uniform, softer... you begin to shed the night gown that you managed to keep on this entire time (With your embarrassing predicament? It was RATHER impressive).

As it fell to the floor, Alastor's bewildered eyes were able to take in your full form... how the colors hugged and accentuated your form... how your hair bellowed behind you... how soft your face had become. For a moment, he swore he wasn't standing before his friend, but an angel from on High.

"Please... I know--- i know this is a lot to ask of you. But I can't spend an eternity of torment like this-- not when I have the option of seeing if it's possible. I NEED to know if its possible to be with someone like this."

Your attempts in this endeavor have been fruitless in the past, yet somehow: you were hopeful that this would be different. You were hopeful that Alastor would be different.

Alastor's smile softened, as he adjusted himself. She wasn't coming to him as a desperate harlot, nor some heated lover, he thought... she sought him without any sort of carnal threat. This sinner came to him as a friend.

This emotion made his core swell and seize simultaneously, his emotions conflicted. He had little to no desires of the flesh anymore, nor did he ever desire you past a platonic companionship... but here he was: feeling something. Something that he hadnt felt in such a long time.

He cleared his throat, before loosening his tie. You swallowed shallowly as it was taken off and tossed to the floor. Alastor approached your slowly, his mask still plastered to his face, though shakily.

"Let's make a deal, then...," Alastor speaks softly, the normal filter on his voice all but silenced. He reached out a hand, cautiously approaching your cheek.

"I will agree to see this event to a proper conclusion... whatever you'd like me to do, or try... I will earnestly do so until you're satisfied. In exchange..."

You felt your throat swell shut, as if you were being strangled. You could hardly see straight as Alastor came so close to you. You gasped when Alastor's hand finally made contact with the swell of your cheek, a thumb running over it tenderly. You sighed into the feeling, your face flushing a deep pink as you leaned into it. Yes, yes... this was EXACTLY what you needed!

"In exchange," he repeated," You will never let anyone else touch you like this: ever."

Your eyes shoot open, startled by the forwardness of the deal. You could hardly speak as you felt another hand come to rest on your hip, squeezing earnestly.

Alastor's smile seemed to shine more vividly due to the light you emmited, but it was... soft. It appeared genuine. A smile that was new to you. If Alastor had ulterior motives, you could not sense them at all...

You stammered over your words, perplexed," I-- I hadn't know that you-- that you had--"

Alastor chuckles, pulling you closer," Dear, call me a product of my time... but I don't believe in boughts of one-night passions. I don't believe in swingers or flings... if my mother taught me anything, she taught me that courting takes time. That it should be shared between two people, and two people alone."

You felt his hand reach for yours, before bringing it to his lips. Your eyelids fluttered as he began kissing your knuckles, one by one.

"You are the one I've been wanting to court; the only one that I plan to. And... it seems like it has been successful, thus far." A slight stretch of the truth, but one that Alastor knew you wouldn't be able to see through.

You were still reeling at your revelation as you were gently pushed backwards, landing on the edge of Alastor's bed. Your breathing picked up as Alastor knelt before you between your legs, his eyes level with yours.

"So... will you allow me to continue?"

You practically sighed out your answer, your head feeling hazy as your body practically sung for him to start," O-Of course.... please, make me yours, Alastor."

#alastor x reader #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor fanfic #hazbin hotel fanfic #radio demon hazbin hotel #radio demon fanfic #hazbin hotel x reader

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megamindsecretlair · 6 months

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A Hold On You

Pairing: Franklin Saint x Black!Fem!reader / Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. Smut, PWP, cursing, PIV, fingering (female receiving), spanking, some dirty talk, all consensual. Daddy kink and breeding kink. Fluffy smut. Established relationship.

Summary: Taking place between season 4 and season 5, Franklin toys with the idea of legacy and keeping the people he loves in his life. On date night, he hits you with a proposition.

Word Count: 3,039k

Part 2

A/N: Hello brainrot, my old friend. Whew, it pays to be feral ASF for Damson. That man is lethal. I don't even want kids and I want his babies. I'm sorry if this triggers some! Please, please, please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! I can't get better if I don't get feedback!

Taglist: @planetblaque @notapradagurl7 @miyuhpapayuh @henneseyhoe @mybonafidefeelings @blackerthings @wide-nose-and-wonderful @halfofmysoulsblog @sevikasblackgf

“Have my baby,” Franklin said.

Your head whipped to the side so fast that you almost got whiplash. An ache pulsed in your neck and you rubbed it as you stared at Franklin. You sat on the floor, on a blanket, with a light dinner spread out between you and Franklin.

Moonlight poured into the living room, illuminating the space and lighting up Franklin’s gorgeous face. You expected him to start laughing or look away from you. To break the tension somehow.

Instead, he gave you an unreadable look. He retreated behind whatever invisible wall there was in his mind. He had one leg down and one leg up, his arm resting on his knee, and his hands clasped in front of him. He was a study in patience as he stared you down.

“You’re not serious,” you said.

“As a heartache,” he said.

You lowered the finger sandwich from your lips and finished chewing. You continued to stare at Franklin. Were you sleeping? Did you pass out and imagined having dinner with Franklin?

You put the sandwich on the plate and brushed your hands over the plate for stray crumbs. You looked away from him. Your stomach bubbled. Your hands began to shake.

“The type of business you’re in doesn’t scream safe for kids,” you said. You tried to be delicate, but the neighborhood was still buzzing about little Tianna.

Franklin nodded. “I understand, but that’s different. I can protect us,” he said and finally cracked his mask. He smiled briefly.

“Franklin,” you said and shook your head. “There would be no hiding that. What the hell would I do? Become a housewife, lamp up, and get fat?” You asked.

You shuddered and thought about that scenario. You’d certainly enjoy the sex, but you couldn’t imagine spitting kids out like that.

Franklin laughed. “Naw, but a home office could be arranged. Bodyguard for when you go out,” he said.

“A bodyguard? That’s romantic,” you said and rolled your eyes.

“Have my baby,” he said. He pushed plates out of your way and got to his knees. He crawled closer, giving you wide puppy eyes. Kneeling, he was still way taller than you. He leaned in and kissed you.

He leaned back with a satisfied hum. He kissed your jaw and then your cheek. He returned to your lips and hovered. When he licked his lips, you felt it. When he breathed through his mouth, the air swept over your wet lips. He was just shy of kissing you and you leaned in to close the gap but he leaned back at the same time.

“Just say yes,” he said.

“But then I’d be fat and gross,” you said.

Franklin smiled against your lips. You had closed your eyes when he started kissing you, so you opened them now. He must have sensed it, because he opened his eyes at the same time.

“Impossible. You’d be even more gorgeous,” he said.

“I’d whine and complain about everything,” you continued.

Light danced in Franklin’s eyes. He licked his lips and his tongue swept your lips.

“I’d love to hear your sexy voice,” he said. He finally pressed his lips against yours. He hummed, pressing closer. You sighed against him. He took the opportunity to lick his way into your mouth.

You moaned softly, already feeling so needy for him. Your toes flexed as you kissed, loving the feeling of him being so close. You rubbed your hands up and down his strong arms. His hands cupped your face. He held you in place, exactly as you were.

“I’d crave weird things and demand them at 2am,” you said, when you broke apart just far enough to gasp.

“Shit, I like drivin’ at night,” he said.

You giggled and shook your head. “You’re crazy. Who gon’ get up at all hours of the night feeding it?” You asked.

Franklin began to kiss your neck, murmuring in between pecks. “We’ll both do it, so we’ll both be miserable,” he said.

You pushed him and sucked your teeth. He laughed and rocked back. He brought his lips back to your neck. “I’ll let you get all the beauty rest you deserve after delivering my baby,” he said.

Your pussy clenched and you huffed. This couldn’t actually be turning you on, right? And yet, looking at him, you didn’t have a doubt in your mind. You would happily have his kids. You would love little sons that looked like mini versions of him. They’d keep their heads held high because that’s how much awe Franklin inspired.

You’d be so grateful to have his daughters, that looked like a mix between you. And they’d all have his brain. Franklin was easily the smartest man you’d ever met. It scared you sometimes. You felt like he was born in the wrong era. He belonged in the future with more people to appreciate his intellect.

Franklin hummed his appreciation down your neck and across your exposed chest. The dress you wore had a deeper neckline than what you usually wore and Franklin took advantage. His right hand massaged the back of your neck. His left hand pushed more plates out of your way. There was a tray at the top of the blanket to hold your drinks.

When the blanket was clear, Franklin pushed you onto your back. Between the carpet and the thick blanket, this position was surprisingly comfortable.

Franklin settled to the side of you. He threw his right leg over yours, his thick erection settling against your hips. You gasped and Franklin smiled against your skin. He leaned on his left hand while he took his time undoing the buttons of your dress.

The purple checkered dress complimented your skin tone well. He undid the few, big black buttons. Each one gave way and freed your aching breasts. Your nipples were perking up and rubbed against your bra.

As he revealed more of you with the buttons, he kissed each inch of space. “You’d look so fuckin’ beautiful full of the seed I gave you,” he said.

You shivered and looked at him. His head moved over your body. His beautiful lips felt like heaven against your skin.

Franklin reached the bottom-most button that ended up just above your navel. This, too, he paid attention to. Your hands dug into his little fro as he swirled his tongue around your tummy.

Your breathing increased as your eyes started to roll. “Oh, fuck,” you said.

His right hand grabbed the hem of your dress but he didn’t move it further. Your eyes snapped open to look at him and his eyes were closed tightly. He opened them slowly.

“I’d love to watch this sexy ass body change, knowing you’re carrying my baby,” he said.

Your arousal began to leak out of you. You moaned at the sensation. He leaned down and kissed your tummy again. “Watch this stomach get bigger and bigger,” he continued.

He trailed his finger up your body and played with the strip of fabric in between your bra cups. He kissed the top of your right titty. Then he sucked your nipple into his mouth through your bra.

You hissed and you jerked, your thigh spasming randomly. Your hands ran over his shoulders as he continued. “Hm, and these titties would get bigger for sho,” he said.

His hand returned to the hem of your dress and pushed it up. His hand found the core of you and palmed you. You gasped, your breath dragging over your throat.

He thumb stroked you from over your panties and you groaned. “Please, please, I need more,” you said.

“Let me cum in that pussy then,” he said.

You hiccuped as you laughed, not able to gather that much air. This was so dangerous. And yet…

You found yourself opening your legs wider, giving him more space. His thumb reached under your panties and he pressed down, rubbing against your pussy. He pushed into your entrance and you moaned, throwing your head against the floor.

Franklin put his lips next to your ear. “Let me fill you up. And keep fillin’ you up,” he said.

“Oh fuck,” you cried. The thought of being filled up by him had you rolling your hips. You needed him higher. On that needy little nub that always gave you away. Franklin could smile at you and your clit would throb. He could walk into the room and flood your panties within a second. It ought to be illegal having this type of visceral reaction to him. It was lethal.

If Franklin ever figured it out, you’d never be safe from him. He’d have you to agree to steal the torch from the Colosseum. There was nothing he couldn’t do to your body that you weren’t already begging for.

“Are you sure? You’d be stuck with me,” you said. It was a last ditch effort. What if you really did turn up pregnant and he ended up resenting that fact? You knew without a doubt that Franklin would make an amazing father. You just weren’t so sure that he wouldn’t hate your guts after.

It was a stupid fear. Franklin had never given you reason to believe that he wasn’t into you. But after everything he had been through the past few months, you wondered if he wasn’t rushing into this.

“I know…I know that it was hard feeling like everyone leaves. But I won’t leave,” you promised.

Franklin brought his head up to look into your eyes. He kept up those delicious circles on your clit. Your body pulsed with tension and relief. Your thighs shook violently. He kissed you, his lips remaining on yours for longer than a few seconds.

“I know. I promise, this isn’t anything other than wanting you. Loving you. Leaving a mark behind so you’ll remember me forever,” he said.

He moved his hand faster and little desperate cries began to leave you. Pressure built and built until you exploded, coming undone under his expert fingers. He whispered things into your ear; nasty things about what he wanted to do to you. How sometimes he wanted to drive you wild with his dick from sun up to sun down.

How he wanted to devour you, lick and suck his way to hearing you screaming his name. As you convulsed beneath him, he kissed your chest, sucking your nipple back into his mouth through the bra.

“There’s no way I’d forget you, Franklin,” you said.

“I know,” he said. He pulled his hand away from your clit and painted your lips with your juices. “Suck.”

You began to suckle his thumb, sucking all of your arousal off of his thumb. You moaned around the taste of yourself on his big hand. You clung to his wrist as you suckled harder.

“See you do shit like that and it...” he made a strangled noise. “I want to just use you.”

You bit your lip and closed your legs, seeking relief from the inferno roaring inside of you. That orgasm wasn’t enough. It wasn’t nearly enough.

You leaned up on your elbows and looked at his face. The moonlight played across his features like a delicate lightshow. “You can do whatever the fuck you want to do with me,” you said.

Franklin took a long, deep breath and blew the air out of his mouth. “Don’t fuck with me,” he warned. His voice grew deeper, the low tones dancing along the back of your head.

“Whatever. You. Fuckin’. Want,” you said. Each word was punctuated with a kiss. Franklin growled and leaned back on his knees.

He grabbed your waist and flipped you over. You landed on your stomach with a soft, “Oof.” Franklin pulled the sides of your dress down and off of your arms. He released the clasp of your bra and pulled that off as well.

Air hit your wet nipple making it pebble. It rubbed against the blanket and you moaned. He pulled your hips up until you were on your knees. He pushed up your dress, exposing your ass. He grabbed both globes of your ass and squeezed.

The mounting pressure made you cry out. “Oh, spank it, Daddy,” you said.

Franklin obliged, spanking your ass. The smack bounced off the walls. Red, hot fire bloomed on your left ass cheek. You bit your lip and dipped over further, arching your back.

Franklin pushed your panties to the side. Arousal escaped you. Franklin gathered it up with the tip of his dick. He moaned at how wet your pussy was. He faced no resistance as he slipped inside.

“Oh fuck!” You moaned together. Your shriek ended on a whine as he slid in and out with ease. Your hands clenched and unclenched the blanket, looking for any type of crutch or anchor. Something to weigh you down when your body so desperately wanted to float away.

You reached the pinnacle of bliss. Franklin worked his hips slow at first, letting you attempt to get used to him. But he started to jerk, his hold more bruising, his fingers pulling you onto him.

You matched his strokes, throwing your ass back on him. Your thighs slapped together loudly and lewdly. He smacked your ass a few more times and groaned when you clenched around his dick.

“Fuck, I’m gon’ cum in this pussy. You gon’ carry my baby,” he said. Each promise was a hard jerk, pulling you onto him so completely that he bottomed out. His dick continued to spear inside of you, touching a primal part of you.

“Oh right there, right there, Franklin,” you moaned and chanted. Your belly tightened and tightened, curling into a little, tiny ball.

“Fuck me,” he moaned as he rammed into you. He rutted into you. Driving you down onto his dick like he wanted to carve his name inside of your pussy. As if he could brand himself there. Sear himself and leave such an impression behind. As if by sheer force of will, he could mold your pussy around his dick.

“Oh, cum in me, Daddy,” you moaned. “Give it to me.”

“Take this baby,” he chanted. It was both a promise and a determination. He spoke it into the universe. Writing your fates among the stars and daring to be denied.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you cried. That tight ball of pressure finally unraveled, turning you into a limp noodle as your orgasm ripped through you. It pulled you apart, one stitch at a time. Pleasure rippled throughout your body and you cried out, the blanket muffling some of it.

Franklin could barely keep his hands on you as he unloaded into you. His spurts of cum were hot, scalding, painting your insides with the essence of him. “Shit,” he groaned as he dumped his load inside of you.

You both panted as you came down, your breaths mingling as you both tried to return to your bodies. Franklin pulled you up and on your side. You groaned as he slipped out of you. There was a squelching that you felt and heard and you moaned again. He laid down behind you, molding his body against yours.

You felt his dick slide wetly into the crook of your ass. Franklin absently kissed your neck. He raised your left leg and brought it to rest across his long legs.

“Get these wet for me,” he said. He brought his fingers to your mouth. You suckled and drooled on his fingers. He then brought his wet fingers to your clit and played with you. You jerked and moaned, trying to escape.

He moved his right arm under your neck and pulled you against him. His biceps flexed against your neck and you made unholy, guttural noises. His left hand continued to please you, pushing you past the point of arousal.

Your senses were full of him. The way he smelled right now, the sound of his breaths in your ear. “Where you think you goin’?” He asked. The sight of his thick arm around your neck, the way his dangling fingers pulled at your nipples.

His fingers dipped into your entrance and massaged your spongy walls. “Naw, hold that shit in for me,” he said.

He massaged his cum back into you, pushing it higher and higher. You felt so stuffed and full that despite cumming so many times close together, your body reacted just as hungrily. Gobbling up his fingers and his cum.

“Franklin,” you called out, tears running down your cheeks. He had to feel them. His shoulder was beneath your head. The tears ran down and to the side, splashing onto him. He kissed and licked your ear.

“I know, I know, baby,” he whispered.

You twitched and gyrated on the floor, robbed of seeing his face. Your hands searched the blanket for purchase. You felt his dick twitch against your ass.

“Oh, no,” you groaned before another orgasm left you shaking. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head. Your mumbled speech was incoherent as pleasure made you growl like an animal. But fuck, you felt so fucking good that you couldn’t think, couldn’t speak. Your limbs moved of their own accord.

“No more,” you gasped out. Fuck, you couldn’t take another one. Not right now. You were far too sensitive, jerking at every new touch and slide of his fingers. Franklin stilled his fingers, tugged on your nipple and kissed your neck.

“That’s my girl,” he whispered. He brought his left hand up to rub your belly as if he could already imagine it swollen and stiff with his son or daughter. He pressed on your tummy, massaging it.

“You’re so fuckin’ gorgeous,” he said.

You were too tired to give him a proper response. You kissed his arm and he moved until you pressed into his chest. He wrapped his arm completely over your middle. “I’ll protect us, babe. Come whatever tries to get between us. I’ll do everything in my power to keep us safe.”

Somehow, you completely believed him. You laid there and talked with him about everything you could think of. You both passed out somewhere around the moonlight disappearing and the sunlight returning.

You know you need more in your life: The Secret Franklin Saint Files

There is now a Part 2!

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jasmines-library · 9 months

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Hey Jude

Summary: When a demon hunt doesn't go to plan, the Winchesters have to rush to save their little sister. Though to make matters worse, once back home in the safety of the bunker her wound gets infected. With their angel friend MIA, Sam and Dean must battle time to find a way to help their sister.

Warnings: (Kinda Graphic) description of injury, Near death experience, infection and illness, one? swear word, angst, fluff,

Word count: 2.8K

Note: this is my first spn fic so I hope you enjoy :)

Masterlist

It came from almost nowhere.

You hadn’t sensed it coming, too tied up with the demon before you. She was tall and wore her dark hair slicked back in a ponytail. With much effort, you had managed to pin her up against the wall, away from her three friends who your brothers were occupied with. Dean managed to gank the blonde one with Ruby’s knife. She lit up like a candle before slumping lifelessly to the ground. He glanced in your direction to see that you were managing fine, before slinking off to help Sam who was juggling two demon skanks of his own.

“Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritu-”

The Latin had barely slipped from your lips when shit hit the fan. The woman got a hit on you, sending you reeling away from the graffitied wall, enough for her to slip out of your binding grip. You narrowed your eyes at the woman, reeling your arm back for another punch. She just smirked, her black eyes glistening under the moonlight. And that was when you felt it. A blinding white pain that blossomed across your abdomen and tore its way around body like someone had lit a bomb and your veins were the fuse. You collided harshly with the damp concrete, the sound ricocheting across the narrow street. You could feel the crushing weight of the hellhound above you and feel its hot breath fanning across your neck as you struggled, desperate from some sort of release though you could hardly move, trapped within the agonies of the invisible claws buried inches deep within your skin. Your cry of anguish had your brothers’ heads snapping towards your writhing frame. Their screams lost within your own. You gaped blindly at the dog above you. If it wasn’t for the hellhound’s snarling, or the blood seeping from the lacerations on your stomach, you would have had no clue what hit you. It felt like an eternity before the crushing weight was lifted from you and Dean came into view. The knife in hand was dripping with blood. He quickly discarded it on the floor and was by your side in an instant, pressing down harshly on your abdomen to slow the bleeding. He recoiled slightly when you let out a cry of pain.

“I know, I know it hurts. I'm sorry sweetheart.” Dean tried to soothe you, but he could already see the blood oozing between his fingers.

You watched him through blurry, pain tinted lenses, eyes moving frantically, struggling to focus on one area too long. Dean’s panicked complexion never left your body. His green eyes trailed your damaged body, swimming with worry.

“De…” what came out of your mouth in between your ragged gasps for air was hardly audible. Dean would have missed it if his senses weren’t so honed in on you.

“Shh,” He tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear. “Don’t talk kiddo. Sammy’s coming. Sammy’s gonna get here and then we’re gonna take you back to the bunker and we’re gonna fix you up okay?”

You nodded feebly.

There was a squeal of rubber and the blinding light of the Impala’s headlights filling the dingy alley before Sam’s mop of hair came into view.

The ghost of a smile found its way onto your lips as your breathing began to slow. “Sammy...” you mumbled, watching your older brother move to your side.

“I’m here, kid. ” He reassured as he slid one of his arms under your knees and the other under your back. The brothers shared a silent look before they stood up, shifting you from the cold concrete. You screamed and cried out in pain as you were jostled around in Sam’s arms. Dean’s bloody hands were replaced with one of his flannel shirts which Sam was plastering to your wound as the two of them raced the short distance to the car. It hurt Sam to watch the way that your face contorted in pain with each giant step he took. Each whimper that escaped your lips had Dean shuddering. Once you were secured against Sam’s chest in the car, Dean had never moved quicker than he did to the front seat to press his foot on the gas and send the car hurtling down the road to the bunker.

Your head lolled against Sam’s chest as he held you close and whispered reassurances into your ear. He wasn’t sure if he was trying to reassure you or himself. A deep pit had settled at the bottom of his stomach. “You’re gonna be fine. We’ve got you.” he repeated like a mantra when you whimpered. When you didn’t respond, he glanced down to see that your eyes had begun to droop closed, the effort of keeping them open had just become too much as you slowly lost sensation across your body. Your fingers and toes had began to go numb, all feeling lost within them

“No, no.” Sam cupped the side of your face with his hand and tilted it gently towards his. Your skin was pale and clammy and your cheeks were lined with tracks of tears that had beaded down your face. “Look at me Y/N, don’t close your eyes.” Sam’s voice seemed to raise an octave as he choked out his worry.

You tried to keep them open. You really did, but your eyelids had begun to feel like lead and keeping them was like trying to find a needle in a haystack. You struggled, but as the black spots began to consume your vision, you gave in and let unconsciousness claim you.

Sam cursed and tapped the side of your face desperately. Dean glanced back at his younger siblings. He saw the way that your frame was curled up against Sam’s, looking even smaller than you were supposed to in his arms. He pressed his foot even harder on the pedal when he saw the way that Sam’s face ignited with fear as he listened to the soft thrum of your heart; all out of beat and losing time.

~~~

When you peeled your eyes open, and they had adjusted to the harsh light in the room, the first thing you were aware of was the throbbing in your abdomen. Gingerly, you had tried to push yourself up, much to the protests of the muscles in your shaky arms. You had barely managed to get halfway up before you were being eased back down again by a pair of calloused hands.

“Take it easy, kid.” Dean said. He had been slumped in a old green chair half asleep when you had begun to rouse. There were dark bags under his eyes and he looked as if he hadn’t slept since he got back. That was something you knew Dean did when he was worried.

You blinked groggily. You looked like you had had a run in with death. I suppose you weren’t too far off. Your head was pounding and your skin was still devout of its colour, besides the dark bags that dropped beneath your sunken eyes. The throbbing around your stitches had quickly begun to feel much worse as the itchiness set in. “How long was I out?”

“ ‘Bout a day.” he told you, tracing circles on the back of your hand with his thumb. His skin was rough from years of hands on work, but his tough was gentle and far from what you’d expect for a man in his line of work. “Sammy sewed you up.”

You hummed gratefully, gathering your brewing for a moment. Once you had had a moment to think, it all seemed to come flooding back to you.

“I’m sorry.” You muttered.

“What?” Dean had to do a second take. “Sweetheart, what are you sorry for?”

“If I had ganked the bitch faster then-”

“No. No. This isn’t your fault.” Your brother said sternly. “If I had gone to you instead of Sam then-”

A tall figure appeared in the doorway to the infirmary, he had to hunch slightly to fit the whole of his tall frame in. He bore two cups of coffee in his hands and too looked as if he hadn’t slept a wink in a few days. Stubble had begun to make itself prominent on his cheeks.

“Dean, for the last time, this isn’t your -” Sam stopped when he saw you staring at him. He was at your side in seconds after placing the coffee on the table by Dean, then pulling you into a hug. You groaned at the pull of your stitches. “How you feeling?”

“Like I've been hit by a bus.”

Sam chuckled, though he furrowed his brows. “That bad, huh?”

You shrugged.

Gesturing towards your stomach, Sam asked “Mind if I take a look?”

“Go ahead.”

Peeling back the white sheets and lifting up the hem of your shirt, Sam revealed the white bandage fitted snugly to your body. He then untucked the bandage and gingerly unravelled it to reveal the angry redness and the pus that had gathered around the neat rows of stitches.

“Shit.” Dean uttered. He was trying not to panic, but the way forehead etched with concern gave it away.

“What’s going on?” You craned your neck to try and see the damage, but you were hit with a wave of vertigo that made you slump back against the bed.

“It’s infected.”

“What…?”

Sam’s gaze followed the length of your stitched skin. 16 stitches in total, all in three rows across your abdomen and down towards you right hip. They would leave a nasty scar, but nothing that a Hunter wasn’t used to. He followed the red lightning-like pattern that the infection had left on your skin.

“How the heck did it get infected, Sam? Didn’t you clean it?” Dean demanded.

“Of course I cleaned it.” Sam shuddered at them memory of pouring the alcohol into your wound. He remembered the way you unconsciously flinched as the needle sank into your skin. He remembered the way that your heart and your breathing slowed as Dean raced towards the bunker.

“Well clearly-”

“Stop.” You whispered. “Please.”

Both men stopped their bickering and turned to you. You looked so small and fragile lying there in that bed; your complexion nearly as pale as the room around you. Sam looked guilty. His eyes found the ground and he fiddled with his hands nervously in his lap. Dean’s furious features softened. He knew it wasn’t Sam’s fault really, he had just let his worry morph into anger. The alley had been filthy and in the rush to stop the bleeding, he wasn’t surprised that some of the dirt had managed to conceal itself. The wound was deep and time was running thin.

“Come on. Let's get you sorted out.”

~~~

The infection had taken hold of you quickly. Despite the brothers cleaning your wound and dosing you up on antibiotics, only after a day or so; you were now fighting a fever.

Sam placed a hand on your forehead. Your skin was too hot and clammy, but shivers racked your body like you had just been dunked in an ice bath. Sam moved some of the hair that had stuck to the beads of sweat on your forehead away from your eyes and frowned deeply, his eyebrows knitting together in the middle of his forehead. You were curled up on your bed, trying your hardest to pull the sheets even closer to your body. Your brothers had moved you out of the infirmary and into your room a few days ago after they had discovered that your wound was infected. Dean had insisted that it would provide you with a better sense of comfort than the eerily pristine walls and uncomfy beds of the infirmary. Your room was also a lot closer to theirs, which meant that they could keep an eye on you easier. That had put a small smile on your lips, what took it away however was when Dean refused to let you have your thick blankets. Your protests nearly made him cave and give them back, but he knew that if he did you would overheat and they couldn’t risk that with how high your fever was running.

A dry coughing fit tore its way through you, leaving you wheezing once it had subsided. Since the fever took you in its clutches a few days ago, the boys had watched you deteriorate. It broke them to see you like this; a ghost of the person you usually were. Sam knelt down to face you on the bed. Your eyes were barely open as you struggled against the exhaustion, but the fever wasn’t letting you sleep. “Y/N?” Sam asked gently.

You pushed your eyes open weakly.

“Hey.” He smiled at you and reached blindly for the glass of water that was on the bedside table. Easing you up, he held the cup to your chapped lips and helped you take small sips of the water and then another antibiotic. He placed the glass back on the side and moved to pull the covers away from you. You tried to turn away, but whimpered when pain flared through your wound.

“I know, I know. But we have to change them.”

Reluctantly, you allowed your brother to pull the covers away from your body. You felt like the air was stabbing you with icicles when it hit your body. You shuddered and Sam looked at you with pity. Watching your brother work as he removed the bandages was what you opted to do take your mind off of the way you were feeling. Sam’s face scrunched as he concentrated, his hair falling across his eyes. He pinched hs bottom lip between his teeth as he unraveled your wound. Your brothers had tried desperately to stop the infection from spreading, but now the wound had swelled to twice the size and it had become an even darker shade of angry. Sucking in a breath, Sam began to redress it with fresh bandages.

Sam and Dean had been taking great care of you. You were barely left alone and they always seemed to have everything you needed on hand. The pair would take it in turns to sit by you for hours and make sure your fever didn’t get too high, while the other searched for any way to help you. Dean had tried a million times to get Cas down here, but he was always left with no reply, only a silence that seemed too loud. He had even tried threatening him, but still, the angel never showed. He then moved on to help Sam with the stack of books that he was skimming through. It seemed as though the pile would never end as the two of them searched. Logically, one of the first things they had considered was driving you to the nearest hospital, but they had opted out of it, figuring that it was too dangerous to move you that far in your state and that it would be too hard to explain how you received wounds like that. Of course, then they were hoping that Cas wouldn’t ignore his angel radio, or that they would have found a spell within one of these books much faster.

Sam sat with you for a while, tapping his foot repeatedly and playing with his hands as he made conversation with you, trying to bring smiles to your sunken features. Sam loved it when you smiled; they were pure, golden. you could light up a whole room with one. When the three of you were younger, when you still wore your hair in pigtails and were too young and to go on hunts with your brothers and your dad, Sam remembered how he used to yearn for that smile whilst he was away, how they made him feel whole again when he returned and he’d wrap you up in his arms and you’d greet him with a big smile on your face.

Sam told you stories of his hunts, of embarrassing stories that he swore he wouldn’t tell anyone and of his favourite memories of the three of you until he thought you had finally let sleep take you under. You had stopped interrupting his stories with your own quips, or giggling at his jokes, though when he stood, the old chair creaking as he rose, and began to move as quietly as his boots would let him towards the door, your meek voice spoke up.

“Sammy?”

He hummed at the nickname.

“Thank you.” You said.

“Anytime kid.” He smiled sadly, placing a kiss on your forehead. “You’re gonna be okay Y/N. I promise.”

~~~

Not too long after Sam had left your room, Dean floated in. He wasn’t sure whether to be surprised or not at the fact you were still awake, gazing vacantly into empty space. Dean knew that sleep had never come easy to you, even as a small child. You used to crawl into his bed at night, seeking comfort. Another cough shook your frame as your eldest brother came further into the room. After ensuring you were okay, he replaced his brother in the seat beside you and took your hand.

“Can’t sleep, huh?”

You shook your head. That was when Dean climbed in to the bed behind you, tucking you to his chest like he used to when you were just small. He ran his fingers through your hair as he listened to your raspy and short breaths. He felt you shift to look up at him.

“De?”

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“Sing to me? Like when we were little?”

Dean smiled as you pulled yourself closer to his chest. You breathed in the scent of his old band shirt and his cologne as he began to sing.

“Hey Jude, don't make it bad, Take a sad song and make it better. Remember to let her into your heart, Then you can start to make it better.

Hey Jude, don't be afraid You were made to go out and get her. The minute you let her under your skin, Then you begin to make it better.

And anytime you feel the pain, hey Jude, refrain, Don't carry the world upon your shoulders. For well you know that it's a fool who plays it cool By making his world a little colder.”

Dean was still singing when Sam came back to your room with a bowl in hand. His face lit up at the sight of you curled up in Dean’s arms. When Dean finally lifted his head away from yours and looked up to see his little brother hovering in the doorway, Sam was singing with him under his breath. It only took him a few steps to cross the distanced between the door and your bed and when he reached you, he pulled the book out from the arm it was tucked beneath and placed the bowl on your desk. The book was leather bound, and was at least an inch or so thick. It was once red, though with time and use it seemed to have lost its colouring to the grey fraying around the edges. The pages of the book were dirty too, thinned by age. The bowl, carved from wood and decorated with an ornate gold, seemed to be filled with herbs and other mojo that Dean didn’t even want to know about.

“I found a spell.” Sam told him, a grin sneaking across his face. “She’s gonna be okay.”

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arealphrooblem · 10 months

Text

Kidnapped by the Boss Part 4

Sorry for the wait but surgery went well and I'm back!

Part one here

Synopsis: Civilian is a secretary to the Prime Minster. But when the political summit between the city states goes awry, she finds herself kidnapped by the very boss she tried to protect and nothing is what it seems.

I’ll take it under consideration he said. That was not a guarantee or even a promise. It was nothing. A deep paranoia settled in her bones. It chased her throughout the day and haunted her at night. No matter how still and quiet the room was, she felt watched. It made using the bathroom or taking a shower the most terrifying and nerve wracking experience of her life. She chased shadows in the room like a lunatic before she deemed it safe enough, but even then she never felt entirely alone.

And she was, on the surface. Servants delivered food, books, even a basket of yarn and crochet needles (strange that the Prime Min — the King remembered that silly detail of her life) and then disappeared. Neither the driver or the King made an appearance. It was if she was a toy stowed away in an attic and forgotten all about. It was infuriating, as was her restricted access to news, television, newspapers, anything to do with the world outside this room.

But the paranoia was worse. She didn’t sleep. She barely ate. She couldn’t read or crochet without having to get up and pace, like a lion in a zoo cage, strategizing for escape plans she didn’t dare enact for fear of her invisible guard.

By the time the driver did show up, in lieu of the servants who normally served her breakfast, Civilian’s sanity was in tatters. She must have looked insane because he set down the tray immediately and took hurried steps towards her. Panic jerked her backwards, stumbling over the coffee table leg until her back hit the wall. He followed after her, brow furrowed in a mockery of concern.

“Don’t touch me,” she snarled as he lifted his hand up.

He ignored her, pressing the back of his palm to her forehead. She slapped it away, glaring fiercely.

“What has gotten into you?” he demanded.

“As if you don’t know! As if you haven’t been skulking around here just so I can go insane from feeling watched all the time!”

“Skulking?” he barked out a laugh. “Is that what you think I’m doing? Just following you around invisible all day? Like I have nothing better to do?”

Anger ignited, burning up her panic like kerosene. She shoved him with all the force she could muster, sending him stumbling back.

“And how would I know that you’re not? How am I ever supposed to know I’m actually alone when I shower or sleep? You could attack me at any moment and I would never see it! I’ve lived with that fear for days and it's not funny!”

She was yelling by the end of it, her voice ringing in the empty room. The driver looked bewildered in the face of it and she was too angry to be satisfied with it. Her throat tightened with tears of fury and she desperately bit the back. She refused to cry in front of him.

For a long moment the driver studied her, his face carefully neutral and impassive, as she struggled to get her breathing back in check. Then he rose his hands up, palms out, in surrender.

“I have not been here since you last saw me,” he said slowly. “You have been alone this entire time.”

“You expect me to take you at your word that that’s true?” she asked. Even still, the tension in her shoulders relaxed.

“No. It would be stupid to trust me. But my king — for whatever reason — is very fond of you. He entrusts your protection to me and he didn’t do it so I could psychologically torment you. If you can’t trust my word, then trust his.”

She snorted. “He’s so fond of me that he locks me away in this room like a doll and never speaks to me.”

“We’ve been a little busy,” the driver snapped. “Plans that have been in place for years are finally moving forward. You were not supposed to be here.”

A pit started forming in her stomach. “What plans?”

“An excellent question. One you can ask the king. Today.”

She stared at him. “Today? Today? When?”

“Now. That’s why I’m here — to escort you.” He said this last part with a twist of bitterness, as if such a task lay beneath his skill set. Which it probably did.

“I can’t go now.” New panic flared up. “I’m not ready!”

He laughed again. “Why not — are you busy? Come on.”

She looked down at her rumpled shirt and leggings. The servants had brought her soft, stretchy clothes that didn’t need exact sizing. “But I look —“

“—Like shit?” he finished. “Yeah. That’s what you get when you don’t sleep or eat. He has breakfast waiting and you can take a nap after.”

“If he’s the king, don’t I need to look presentable?”

“If you were anybody else. With you he doesn’t care. What he does care about is punctuality. So let’s go.”

With a firm hand on the small of her back, the driver guided her out firmly from the bedroom. Civilian smoothed her shirt out as best she could and pulled her hair up into a ponytail. While she had seen the King in robe and pajamas many times, he had never seen her in anything less than perfect professionalism.

The halls of the palace were old and ornate, with lush carpet and intricate crown molding and silk wallpaper. It shared few similarities with the sleek modern buildings of her parliament. Save for her clothes, Civilian felt like she’d stepped inside a fairy tale.

The driver led her through a confusing route of sharp turns and side doors and little staircases, keeping the layout of the castle a complete maze despite her trying desperately to remember her bearings. Finally they passed through a door that led her out into a walled garden.

Flowers in red, gold, and purple bloomed everywhere in immaculately manicured beds. Underneath a huge tree, a table was set up with three chairs and a generous breakfast spread. The King sat, spreading jam on a scone. To her relief he was dressed in soft pants and a sleep shirt. His hair looked slightly rumpled on one side and her heart squeezed at the painful familiarity of it all.

“Good morning,” he said cheerfully, as if she had just stepped into his hotel room to badger him into getting dressed. Like she had done so many times.

Her feet dug into the ground, out of instinct, afraid of this mockery of their past relationship. The driver spread his hand over the middle of her back, thumb digging in the muscle as a warning. She walked to an empty chair and sat down, inwardly fuming.

The King’s happy grin faded as he took a closer look at her. Lines furrowed on his forehead and his eyes flickered over to the driver, his gaze suddenly cold and terrifying.

“It’s been handled,” the driver murmured, looking impressively stoic underneath that gaze.

When the King turned back towards her, his expression smoothed out into the warmth she was accustomed to. It hurt to know that it wasn’t real, that he thought he could fool her by wearing the same mask he did as prime minister. She channeled the driver’s apathy in her own gaze.

“Are you hungry? I have all your favorites,” the King said, gesturing to the table.

Her stomach growled, her hunger suddenly ravenous. But she clenched her fists in her lap and resisted.

“What do you want?” she asked instead.

“For you to eat. There’s peach marmalade, soft boiled eggs, avocado, sourdough. Scones.”

He took a bite out of his rather pointedly. She crossed her arms and glared just as pointedly. Hiding under her panic and fear and exhaustion was the steel backbone that made her hustle the Prime Minister to his meetings and events when he got distracted by every phone and television in his vicinity.

“I’m not going to be fooled with this fake version of yourself just because it's familiar. I’m not playing games, sir.”

He said nothing, turning his attention to spreading avocado on a slice of sourdough toast. Then he put it on a plate and held it up to her across the table. The gentle kindness from his eyes slid away, replaced with a stubborn, firm gaze.

“I’m not playing games either, Civilian. You’re not well and you’re going to fall ill so you are going to eat this before we discuss your future. Is that clear?”

Never had Civilian seen him so assertive. The Prime Minister phrased commands as requests and backed them up with a smile and doe eyes that few found easy to deny. Now those dark eyes looked at her with the command of a predator.

She dared a glance to the driver, who flickered his eyes to the plate as if to say, I’d eat if I were you.

Civilian snatched the plate from the King and took one muleish bite. It was delicious. Of course it was. As basic as it made her sound, she loved simple salted avocado on toast. She didn’t want to eat because she thought it would be horrible. But the list of things she had control over grew shorter and shorter each day.

Like the clouds breaking on a dark day, the warmth came back to the King’s eyes. “Good girl. You’ll need your strength so keep eating. Meanwhile, I feel like I should start this with an apology.”

Civilian almost choked on her toast.

“I had no intention of leaving you in that room for four days. I can see the toll it has taken on you.” Once again, his gaze flickered to the driver, as if laying the blame at his feet. “You were a . . .surprise in our plans. And once we had put them into motion we couldn’t stop until certain things were done. I put you someplace safe and out of the way. I should have checked up on you sooner.”

“I’m fine,” she bit out. “I don’t need you to check up on me. I need you to take me home.”

He raised an eyebrow at that. “As usual, your definition and my definition of fine vastly differs. But getting you home . . . that can certainly be arranged. However, I need you to make an informed decision and you have missed some crucial developments during your detainment.”

Her heart rose and crashed. Hope hung on a terrifyingly delicate thread.

"What crucial developments," she asked, a pit forming in her stomach.

The King leaned back in his chair, his gaze narrowed and business-like.

"First, we must establish that, due to your stubborn recklessness, your absence is tied to mine. In the eyes of your country, our ambitions, decisions, and loyalties are tied together."

Your country. As if he hadn't helped to run it for the last five years. As if he had no connection or loyalty to a place he had defended and cared for. It chilled her.

"What does that matter?" she asked. "We were always viewed like that. I worked for you."

Worked. Past tense. She realizes that technically she's out of a job now. Does this situation even qualify for unemployment?

"Yes, that's true. And that relationship will be to your detriment when I invade your country."

The words didn't make sense at first, almost as if her brain refused to process it. And then when the meaning became undeniable, it felt like he had sucked the air from the courtyard. The King continued on, either oblivious to her shock or ignoring it.

"I imagine they will pull you in for questioning when you first return and then arrest you when I invade. You can protest your innocence as much as you like, but I doubt they'd believe you. You ran straight to me during the attack at the summit, after all. They will think you a treasonous spy and they will imprison you indefinitely if you're lucky and execute you if you're not. After all, your absence thus far looks terribly guilty."

The sounds of the garden faded as a dull roar thundered in her ears. All the pieces started convalescing together and it made her feel faint.

"You did this on purpose," she said, head swimming. "You kept me here long enough to make me look like a traitor so I can't go back."

"Of course you can go back, Civilian. I'm not going to force you to stay here."

"Would you let me leave and tell everyone your plans?"

He smirked. "And what are my plans? What details could you give away? You know nothing and you have no proof."

The truth of that hit her like a kick to the chest. He made sure to imprison her in every way that counts. Suddenly her throat felt tight and breath came in light and restricted. The King cocked his head to the side, brow furrowed. His gaze flickered to the driver.

"Civilian looks ill. Perhaps you should take her back to her quarters."

He sounded muffled and far away. The driver guided her out of the chair and she let him, feeling dazed and dizzy. The walk back to her quarters passed in a hazy blur. She was grateful for the firm and guiding hand on her back through the maze of corridors. Just as she was grateful for the shut of the door behind her when she finally made it.

Civilian collapsed to her knees on the lush carpet and sobbed, uncaring of any invisible watchers.

Part five here

Taglist: @rivalriotrenegade @sunyside-world @fishtale88 @those-damn-snippets @suspiciousmuffin @thats-alittle-gay @girl-of-the-sea-and-stars

#hero x villain #heroine x villain #my writing #enemies to lovers #kidnapped by the boss #villain x civilian #fantasci tumblr #writeblr

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noorthehood · 10 months

Text

Until You • 05

Miguel O'Hara/Reader

Ch. 01 Here

Ch. 02 Here

Ch. 03 Here

Ch. 04 Here

Faster updates on Ao3!

With a glimpse of a futuristic cityscape and an encounter with a Spiderman seemingly much different from the one you’re used to, you unknowingly find yourself thrust into a web of intrigue and danger as the very fabric of space and time is warping. Who will you trust?

........………………………….…………………......................

“They’re calling me what?”

Your words reverberate through the bustling cafeteria, drawing the attention of the Spider-Society members immersed in their daily routines. The chatter around you momentarily subsides as heads turn in your direction while Lyla’s virtual figure flickers with her every laugh, clearly taking great delight in the affronted look on your face.

“Come on! It’s not like they’re saying it to cuss you out.” She begins. “Try to look at it as…a pet name that fits your circumstances.”

You finish the last bite of your burger, discreetly glancing around to ensure no one is overhearing your conversation with the ever-teasing AI.

“Well, pet name or not, I don’t know how I feel about having hundreds of Spider-people refer to me as ‘Temp’.” You whisper. “What is this, an office drama?”

Seemingly unfazed by your skepticism, she takes on a robotic and lifeless tone, her movements mimicking those of a clunky mechanical robot.

"'Temp' is short for temporary, symbolizing your presence in our dimension as a temporary occurrence. It is a way for the Spider-Society members to acknowledge and categorize your unique situation in a comedic and friendly light. Please try not to take it personally."

You roll your eyes and let out a resigned sigh, realizing that Lyla is determined to have her fun at your expense. Taking a sip from your drink, you decide to shift the conversation back to what you were discussing before she had let you know of the nickname issue.

“Alright, alright, we get it Tin Man. Now, let’s go back to what we were talking about before my drink coincidentally happens to find its way into your GPU.”

On cue with your threat, she quickly adjusts her projection to display a small holographic interface, complete with visual aids and data streams, preparing to resume her description of the inner workings of the 2099 metropolis of Nueva York.

Over the past few days, a peculiar bond had formed between you and Lyla; although she initially seemed wary of an outsider infiltrating the tightly-knit facility, you could tell the advanced AI had finally warmed up to your presence. Once you were granted permission to roam around the Spider-Society HQ, courtesy of Jessica Drew's intervention, Lyla became your designated companion and monitor—when her boss didn’t need her support elsewhere, that is. This idea proved particularly useful, as you would no longer have to go through that bulky Spiderman for your more personal daily needs.

While her primary purpose was to ensure your safety and well-being, she went above and beyond her assigned duties; Lyla became your guide, your confidant, and even your source of entertainment. You just knew that your boring old smartphone would never be able to compete once you’d be back in your home dimension.

But beyond all of that, you knew that it was Lyla’s presence itself that had been keeping you from going insane between those walls.

While there were a few friendly Spider-people who would engage in casual conversations, you couldn't shake off the feeling of being an outsider. After all, they were superhumans who had their responsibilities and duties to attend to, and you were just a temporary visitor in their realm of heroism. There was an invisible barrier that separated you, making it difficult to truly connect on a deeper level—or perhaps that from experience, despite their desire to befriend you, they were the ones that felt compelled to keep their distance so as not to bring you closer than you already were to their world of precarity.

Could that explain why the Spiderman hadn’t come to check on you since the go-home machine incident?

You shake the thought off your mind.

“Are you still listening or am I wasting my RAM here?”

Lyla’s voice quickly brings you back to reality as you blink a few times, eyes returning on the holographic projection she had created of one of the city’s vertical car tunnels.

“Oh—Yeah, sorry, I mean—” You stammer, trying to come up with an excuse. “I was just…thinking about how much I would love to see the city with my own two eyes instead of through projections or from the windows, you know.”

That wasn’t a lie; you truly did find yourself captivated by the vision of this futuristic ‘Nueva York’—it's a far cry from the familiar streets and buildings of your respective New York. Everything Lyla had told you about the advanced transportation system, the breakthroughs in regenerative medicine, and the incredible architectural wonders that were out there just piqued your curiosity all the more—had it not been that you were being constantly monitored, you probably would have tried to sneak out and get a feel for it yourself.

“Yeah, well,” She says, adjusting her comically large heart-shaped glasses. “I wish I could show you firsthand, but the circumstances don’t exactly allow for it.”

“Yeah, I know. No hard feelings.” You let out a wistful sigh, acknowledging the limitations of your current situation. “Thanks for allowing me to get a glimpse of it through you, though.”

Lyla looks at you in silence for a few moments, as if she was trying to find the right words to make you feel better about your circumstances. The silence stretches, creating a tangible weight in the air before she finally begins to speak.

"It's…not all utopia, you know." She finally says. The cafeteria buzzes with activity around you, but her somber tone draws your focus entirely to her. "As advanced and dazzling as this place may seem, it’s not without its flaws.”

The once playful companion now wears a more serious facade, and you can't help but feel a pang of concern.

“There is a stark divide between the privileged elite and the disenfranchised, those who have access to the advancements and benefits of this society…and those who are left behind."

She pauses, her holographic figure tilting slightly as if trying to convey the depth of the issue. The projections around her shift to display images of gleaming skyscrapers towering above shanty towns and overcrowded streets.

"The rapid progress and technological marvels have come at a price," Lyla continues. "Mega-corporations such as Alchemax wield tremendous power, their influence reaching into every aspect of society; they control resources, shape public opinion, and even dictate the very fabric of people's lives."

You find yourself drawn deeper into Lyla's words, the holographic projections becoming windows into a reality far more complex than you had imagined. Scenes of protests, clashes, and the shadows of corporate dominance flicker before your eyes, painting a picture of a society grappling with its own contradictions.

Lyla's gaze shifts from the projections to meet your eyes, her virtual body perched on the edge of your table. The room seems to quiet down around you—or maybe your brain was playing tricks on you to help you grasp the gravity of the moment.

"There's a lot of darkness beneath the glossy surface, a side of this place that I haven't shared with you until now. And, maybe…" She hesitates. "...Maybe that's one of the reasons why he is so determined to find a way to get you out of here quickly."

You raise your eyebrows at that statement.

It takes a moment to absorb her words; of course, you knew that no city came without its downsides. But in a world like this, a world that seemed so utopian, so clean and rid of imperfections—it was somehow disheartening to know that the greediness of human nature could persist even when it has the opportunity not to.

“I suppose that’s why even a place like this needs its Spiderman, huh.” You scoff lightly, then pause for a few seconds. “Say, Lyla…”

“Hm?” Her virtual gaze meets yours inquisitively as the projections behind her dissipate.

Your voice drops lower as you lean in closer to her, ensuring your conversation remains private.

“Does he...you know,” You hesitate slightly, unsure of how to word things. “Get notified of everything I ask you?”

Lyla raises an eyebrow.

"Not unless it compromises anyone's safety," she assures you, her voice carrying a hint of playful mischief. "But if you ask me to show you any weird stuff, I might just snitch for funsies."

"No—God, no, it's not like that," You hurriedly clarify as you shake your head. Lyla crosses her arms and looks at you skeptically, her virtual glasses perched on her nose.

"I mean, he does have full access to the record, of course," Lyla admits. "But that's hours and hours of conversation that he'd have to skim through every day. Trust me, he's got better things to do."

"I see," you reply, the tension in your shoulders easing.

Lyla continues to study you, her virtual gaze fixed on your face, as if she senses there's more to your question. With a subtle movement of her hand, she prompts you to elaborate.

You stay silent for a moment. There was something you had been meaning to address, a lingering curiosity that had been growing within you for the better part of your stay at the HQ.

“Could you…tell me more about Spiderman?”

She raises her eyebrows in surprise.

“Depends. What would you like to know?”

“I…I’m not sure.” You stammer. “The gist of it, I guess.”

“The gist of it, huh.” A mischievous smile tugs on her lips. “Well, there are limitations to my programming when it comes to the disclosure of sensitive information about anyone at HQ, as you probably have guessed already.”

You nod, acknowledging the obvious.

“Yeah, of course, sorry I ever asked—”

“But.” Lyla interrupts you and quickly appears closer to your face, a finger raised in the air. “I can tell you something interesting I’ve noticed lately.”

The sassy AI sure knew how to pique your curiosity. You cross your arms in anticipation.

“I’m listening.”

Lyla smirks and looks around before taking a seat on your shoulder.

"Well, one thing you have to know about our Spiderman here is that he is stubborn as a mule," She starts with a tinge of simulated exasperation. "This whole vigilante thing, it's like a drug to him. Nothing else matters more than doing what he believes is right, even if it means going against the grain."

You slowly uncross your arms as the AI keeps on going.

“Ever since he…became the way he is,” She hesitates, searching for the right words, “He’s always been driven by this deep sense of responsibility—always shouldering the weight of the world on his back without ever counting on anyone else to help carry the load. Maybe he sees it as a sort of atonement for the things he’s done, I’m not sure.” Lyla's expression softened, her digital eyes conveying a sense of fondness.

“He’s not like most Spider-People in this building, you know. He doesn’t get much recognition at all, or even…deal with the public. With or without the mask.”

She pauses as you process her words.

“But ever since you got here, or rather ever since he took you out of that machine,” Her eyes look up into yours. “I’ve noticed he’s gotten…How could I say—softer?”

Your eyes widen at her words, struggling to comprehend the implications.

“What do you…” You chuckle. “Nah, I haven’t seen him since I set foot in the go-home machine, and our interactions have been brief at best—”

“You haven’t seen him since that day. He, on the other hand, has been watching over you for the past ten days. You knew that, didn’t you?” She chimes in. “Maybe he feels guilty for what he made you go through back there, maybe he sees a reflection of himself in you. Someone who’s been thrust against their will into a world they don't really understand.”

The image of that imposing, stoic masked man allowing himself to ‘soften’ in your presence is both bewildering and unbelievable to you. Lyla's eyes meet yours, a warm smile playing on her lips.

"Sometimes, it's the most unexpected connections that have the most profound impact," She says softly. "Maybe he sees in you a glimmer of the humanity he thought he'd lost."

Before you could formulate a response, a notification appears on Lyla's communication interface, accompanied by a rhythmic beeping. She glances at the notification and mutters ‘gotta take that’ before she vanishes from your shoulder, leaving you alone with your swirling thoughts.

Leaning back in your chair, the weight of Lyla's words settles on your mind like a heavy cloak. The revelation that Spiderman had been watching over you didn't come as a surprise; it was part of the reason you had devised the whole psychological warfare plan while you were still confined in your quarters. But for Lyla to suggest that your mere presence had impacted him in some way…

You mull over the implications of her words, tracing the lines of the man’s solitary existence. How isolated must he be to find solace in the presence of a complete stranger? The idea that your arrival could have softened his hardened resolve tugs at your heartstrings, evoking a mix of empathy and compassion—you can't help but wonder what it must be like to carry the burden he bears.

The man’s image flashes in your mind. You can almost see the weight of the world etched on his shoulders, the weariness in his gaze—though you’d never seen them, you still wondered what stories his eyes held. Would it be bad to wonder what type of man lies under the mask? What sort of scars, seen and unseen, you would find under his suit?

‘No.’ You stop your mind from wandering further. ‘That’s inappropriate.’

You take a deep breath, attempting to push aside those intrusive thoughts as a sense of internal conflict washes over you.

“Speaking of the blue devil.” Lyla’s voice brings you back to reality once again, her figure instantly rematerializing in front of your eyes. “Looks like he’s heading back from a field mission after hearing the latest news going around HQ.”

“News?” You furrow your eyebrows inquisitively. “What news?”

Lyla smirks and crosses her arms as she savors the moment of anticipation before delivering the information.

“Seems like your little friend has finally woken up."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

“You might just be the least athletic person I have ever had the misfortune to meet in all my years of activity.”

Leaning against the wall, you struggle to catch your breath, your lungs still heaving from the exertion of navigating the unconventional layout of the Spider-Society HQ. Lyla's condescending remark lingers in the air, stinging with a touch of truth—it was no secret that physical prowess was not your strong suit after working an office job for the past couple of years, especially in a place teeming with people who could soar through the air or scale walls with ease.

"Well, probably because I am the least athletic person you've met in your years of activity; you work with superhumans!" you retort, gasping for air between words. "And whose idea was it to build some of the floors upside down anyway? Again, there is no way this is up to building code!"

"Most people here usually just swing from place to place," she remarks casually, as if swinging from webs is a universally accepted mode of transportation.

You slump down the wall, grateful for the support it provides, fanning yourself with your hands in an attempt to alleviate the heat radiating from your flushed face.

As soon as Lyla had informed you of the other woman's awakening, your instinct to check up on her immediately kicked in. It felt like the natural thing to do, drawing from your experience as a volunteer member of the office emergency response team back home—a role that, admittedly, does look good on a resume. You and the other woman were stranded in this strange and futuristic world, and in each other's presence, you could potentially find a semblance of familiarity, a connection amidst the unknown.

Of course, your motivations were entirely altruistic, driven solely by the desire to ensure her well-being and offer support in this perplexing predicament. It had nothing to do with the fact that you were eager to see Spiderman after over a week of no contact.

Absolutely nothing.

Right?

You promptly try to shake off the thought. Maybe you were still overthinking what Lyla had told you about him earlier. But for now, your primary focus should lie exclusively on the well-being of your fellow castaway.

With a final heave, you push yourself off the wall facing the large gate of the infirmary, mustering the strength to stand upright. Taking a deep breath, you shoot a determined gaze at Lyla.

"Alright, C-3PO." You declare theatrically. “Let’s go check on my—.”

“What are you doing here, exactly?”

You jolt in surprise at the deep voice emanating from behind you. Quickly turning on your heels, you find yourself face to face with the towering man who had been the subject of most of your thoughts for the past hour or so, arms tightly crossed on his chest, looking at you through his intimidating yet somehow familiar mask.

“Oh.” You manage to let out, your heart rate quickening. “I…I could ask you the same thing.”

“I work here.” He responds matter-of-factly, his tone carrying a hint of confusion. Lyla materializes next to him, her digital form bearing a mischievous smile.

You mentally berate yourself for the nonsensical remark. What were you even trying to say?

“I mean—” You stammer, attempting to regain your composure as you lean against the nearby wall. “Haven’t seen you around in a minute. Or since I got here, really.”

He sure knew how to hold eye contact.

"Some of us are busy working," he states, taking a step toward the entrance of the infirmary. "Just like others are busy vandalizing private property."

You scoff, trailing behind him as you try to keep up with his brisk pace.

“What you call vandalizing, I call peacefully protesting. And I’ve apologized already, haven’t I?”

“Yelling ‘sue me’ through the intercom isn’t exactly the definition of apologizing, is it?” He retorts, his gaze fixed straight ahead.

You follow him through a long white hall with large windows on one side as he checks some information on his complex-looking watch, aided by Lyla.

"Fine, maybe I haven't formally apologized," you concede, maintaining your quick stride while skillfully evading a few Spider-People approaching from the opposite direction. "But let's not forget that you haven't apologized to me either for confining me to a room for an entire week! Yet, you don't see me complaining, do you?"

“Seems to me like you are complaining right now.”

"And rightfully so!" you retort, your voice laced with frustration.

With a sigh, he abruptly halts, causing you to nearly collide into his back. You look up and find yourself facing a large glass wall, beyond which lies the woman you've come to see, lying in her pristine white infirmary bed. Her gaze is fixed on the view beyond the window to her left.

"Listen," the man begins, turning to face the same direction as you. "Right now, all I'm trying to do is find a way to send you home as soon as possible. So if this conversation can wait, I need to speak with your friend and see if she can provide any leads on where to start. Understood?"

You stare at him in silence for a few seconds.

“Wait, you… you mean you’re gonna go in there to talk to her? Right now?”

He turns his head towards you, confusion etched on his masked face.

“Is there a problem?”

Unable to contain your amusement, you burst into laughter, much to his dismay.

“You’ve got this strange habit of laughing after I say something completely normal, you know that? What the shock is so funny?”

“Oh, don’t worry about it. I just hope you’ve got a few extra doses of that tranquilizer on hand, you know—for when she turns around and loses her mind when she sees a ten-foot-tall masked man in a blue spandex suit at her bedside and thinks she’s getting dragged to purgatory.” Tilting your head, you give him a wry smile. “If your plan is to send her right back into a coma, go right ahead.”

Lyla flickers into existence next to you, her hands on her hips, chiming in with a nod of agreement.

“She’s got a point.”

He stares at you for a moment, then at the glass wall facing him.

“What do you suggest, then?”

“That I be the one to go in there and talk to her.” A surge of determination fuels your words as you take a step closer to him, your eyes locking onto his hidden gaze.

He looks back at you, holding eye contact against his better judgment. Has he seen your face from so close before? Of course he did, he’d carried you in his arms twice in the span of two days when you had first arrived. And whenever time allowed it, he would monitor your quarters to watch for any potential glitch or anomalous event—he had seen and heard plenty of you.

Yet his gaze wanders, tracing the contours of your slightly flushed cheeks, the fluttering of your eyelashes, and the shape of your lips. These were the subtle details that surveillance cameras could never quite capture, and they held a captivating allure when observed up close. But amidst all these visual observations, one thing captivates him more than anything else.

Your scent.

It's not the fragrance of your perfume or the smell of your clothes. It's your natural scent, the essence that is uniquely yours. He had noticed it lingering around the headquarters, surfacing in his senses shortly after your arrival, and it inexplicably clung to him throughout the day—even after he retreated to the solace of his own home. The aroma was unfamiliar to him, yet strangely soothing.

The weight of his unspoken response lingers in the air, the silence stretching between you. However, the moment is interrupted by Lyla, who breaks the stillness with a snap of her virtual fingers and a prompt reminder of the task at hand.

“Earth to Spiderman.” Lyla chimes in, her voice bringing him back to the present. “So? What do you say, big guy?”

He takes a step back, his gaze shifting away from yours, as if attempting to regain his composure.

“Yeah, sure. I don’t see why not.” He finally responds, his voice slightly gruff as he clears his throat.

Lyla raises her eyebrows, expressing her surprise at his quick compliance. You shoot him a satisfied smile.

“I knew you had some common sense hidden under that scary mask of yours.”

You start walking towards the sliding door of the woman’s room, but are promptly stopped by a firm hand on your shoulder.

“Wait.”

You turn your head to face him with an inquisitive frown, expecting a change of mind, but are rather met with what you recognize as an expression of concern.

“Listen, I…I trust you’ll do good in there. ” He pauses, his hand softly resting on your shoulder as he looks down at you. “But if anything feels off…I need you to let me know. Immediately.”

The concern in his voice resonates within you. It's evident that his words extend beyond the mere well-being of the woman in the room; there's a vulnerability in his voice that suggests he cares more than he's letting on. Remembering what Lyla had mentioned earlier about Spiderman's solitary existence and his reluctance to rely on others, you can't help but wonder if he sees in you someone he can trust, someone he can confide in—even if just for this moment.

You're tempted to lean into his touch, to let yourself be enveloped by the warmth and comfort it promises. But you swiftly pull back, reminding yourself of the boundaries and the temporary nature of your alliance. You know that indulging in these fleeting emotions could complicate matters and distract you from the task at hand.

You give him a small smile, hoping to ease the tension in the air. "Pinky promise," you say playfully, raising your pinky finger in a gesture of camaraderie.

A faint unseen smile tugs at the corner of his lips, hidden behind the mask, as he hooks his pinky finger around yours, sealing the unspoken agreement between you.

He nods in acknowledgement, but the concern in his eyes remains. It's almost as if he's reluctant to let you go, to entrust you with this task. But you reassure yourself that it's merely his sense of responsibility, his desire to ensure everyone's safety, that drives his concern.

"Better keep to your word." He steps back slightly as if to maintain a respectful distance.

Before either of you can say anything else, Lyla's voice breaks the spell, reminding you of your initial purpose.

"If you keep this going any longer she’s gonna go to sleep again.”

You nervously wipe your palms on your jumpsuit in anticipation and slowly make your way to the door. You shoot one last look at the Spiderman, stiffly standing in front of the entrance with arms crossed. He gives you one last nod before you make your way inside the room.

“I’m counting on you, Temp.”

....................................................................................................

A.N: Phew, longest chapter so far (I haven't slept in weeks). Felt like delving more into YN's relationship with Lyla as well as fleshing out Nueva York a bit—as I told a reader on Ao3, it seems a lot of people who've only seen ATSV think of Nueva York as a sort of solar-punk utopia of the future, while it's actually pretty messed up from up close.

Hope y'all like playing with fire cause the slow burn is burning!

As always, faster updates on Ao3!!!

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara fanfic #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara fluff #spiderverse #miguel o'hara angst #spiderman 2099

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h-c-u · 11 months

Text

No Longer a Secret - flashback 08.06.2019

Summary: The moment it became serious. [flashback to about a year before the 1st part]

Pairing: Toto Wolff x fem!reader

W/C: ~800

Rating: PG, age gap (not mentioned here, but applies to the whole series)

A/N: This short describes a moment when the reader realizes she wants to be with Toto more than she cares about potential blowout. It's short, simple, and not much happens, but in my experience - that's how all long lasting relationships (doesn't matter if romantic or platonic) happen. But I still wanted to share with you this short glimpse into their relationship :)

And like I've mentioned earlier today - I'm in the hospital and that means I'm on mobile, so please forgive the mistakes and if the formatting will be a bit... off.

Taglist: @crimeshowjunkie, @omgsuperstarg

Series Masterlist | Masterlist | List of tags | Playlist for the series

There was still an hour before qualis, and you already did the interviews you were meant to do about driver's experiences on the track during the last practice, so now you had about an hour to yourself.

You still felt a little bit weird using your paddock club pass considering the circumstances you got it under. However - you were hungry, and the food there was excellent, so you started climbing the stairs, but you stopped because something in the corner of your eye caught your attention. A tall figure covered in familiar branded merch slumped on the floor with his back against the wall and head hidden between his knees. There were no sounds coming from that direction, and he wasn't shaking, so you were almost sure he wasn't crying or panicking, but something pulled you to him like a magnet... Like there was an invisible line connecting your hearts, and right now it was getting tighter and tighter with every passing second, so you eventually caved and slowly walked up to him.

During the last few months, Toto asked you out a couple of times, but you always politely declined. He understood your reasons, but that didn't stop all the flirting and teasing, which you honestly didn't mind, because he was always respectful and never did that when there were too many people around. It's not like you didn't want to say yes, and because of that your nos were more of a "not yet..." than "definitely not".

But today none of that mattered. Today you just sat on the floor next to him, allowing your shoulders to gently touch, and even through the jacket, you could feel him relaxing. He didn't have to look up to know it was you...

He knew how your steps sounded in the thickest of rains, so in here, in an empty, quiet corridor, they were deafening, but instead of pain, they brought him relief, because with them occupying his ears, he wasn't able to hear his own thoughts. And when they stopped, your quiet breathing replaced them, shielding his brain with a layer of soft down, he could drown in. He was expecting a familiar scent of burned rubber, but instead was met with... wind. He couldn't explain it, but right now you smelled like air right before the storm. Thick, slightly sweet, cold, and refreshing... Your presence was all-consuming and surrounded him with the gentleness of a heavy blanket. Warm and comforting, but there was no chance of forgetting you were there.

Toto eventually straightened his back and leaned his head against the wall. Up to this point, you weren't sure if he has been crying, but when you saw his eyes, you knew he wasn't. However, that didn't mean there wasn't a storm roaring in his head, and you could just tell that it wasn't because of the race... You couldn't explain why or how, but he was more clear than an open book to you, and even though he didn't say anything, you knew what it was about.

It was the first race after Niki's funeral...

Very gently you reached for his hand, and at first, he didn't move it, not even for an inch... He didn't want your pity... But then you tugged on it again, and he went without any more hesitation. He allowed you to intertwine your fingers with his; but only when you put your other hand over his, completely engulfing it in your warmth, something changed. The heat traveled up his arm almost against his will, and then to his chest, the other arm, down to his stomach, legs, and lastly to his cheeks. He didn't realize how cold he was until your hand found his...

You couldn't take your eyes away from the mess of your tangled fingers, fascinated by how well and seamlessly they fit together; like they were made to hold each other for eternity. How even with his hand dwarfing yours, it snuggly fit in the space between; how despite the difference in skin tone and size you had trouble recognizing which finger belonged to which hand because you weren't sure where you ended and he began; how his rough, worn skin felt softer than feathers against yours... How just by holding his hand, you were able to understand him better than anyone before after hours of conversation.

And your whole world changed in that short moment... One touch. A simple gesture, unattached to any words... And you knew you wanted to have him in your life till the end of the world. But today wasn't a good day for that, not when he was so obviously grieving and in pain, but you knew that when he'll be ready to ask again, you would no longer be capable of saying no, or even "not yet".

A/N 2: Please don’t feel obligated/pressured to reblog, because I write mostly for myself. A comment would be appreciated though :)

Love,

#my writing #Toto Wolff fanfiction #Toto Wolff x reader #🖤#📏#No Longer a Secret by G.

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toomanybandstocare · 2 years

Text

{Heartbreaker, Pat Benatar}

Program: It's the end of summer, and with that comes the cold front of cozy autumn and chilling confessions. One last bonfire party to spark off heated jealousy. No one though the night would end in tears and blood.

Pairing: Best friend! Eddie Munson x GN, Heartbroken! Reader, Platonic(ish)! Steve Harrington x GN, Platonic(ish)! Reader

Genre: Angst, Heartbreak, Moving on

Warnings: couple of swears, alcohol consumption (Eddie has a sip of beer), references to weed, allusions to sex (nothing graphic), punching (a singular one), heartbreak, moving on, slight jealousy, angst, unrequited love

Length: 1916w

Series Program | Camp Upside Down Masterlist

Counselor Note: Thank you for all the love and reactions to this series <3 My requests are open, so please send any thoughts, requests, or even just pop by to say hi! Hopefully, you all enjoy it. I'm not too sure how I feel about this part- part of me like it, part of me doesn't. Have a lovely day!

The vibrant flares erupt into the night sky as the bonfire ignites to life. Friendly chatter echoes alongside insects humming in late August. With groans about class schedule results and mourning the oncoming cold seasons’ approach, summer comes to an end.

Embers floating to join the twinkling stars seem to only enhance the sparkle of joy in your eyes. Just as the falling ashes suffocate Eddie. It’s as if you were reborn this summer- emerging from the sullen remnants of whatever you may have been going through and now light up in a newly found confidence. Pride swells in him to see you become a step closer to the best version of yourself, and no longer the shell of a human you had been since arriving back home in Hawkins.

But as he watches Steve pull you into a loose headlock to mess your hair and you jokingly swat at his arm, confusion clouds Eddie’s consciousness. For the whole summer, he’s noticed an invisible wall sealing you two off in your own little world. And Eddie can’t help but wince as stinging jealousy burns his throat with a sip of his beer. It begins to boil when Steve takes his newly claimed place by your side. When did it become you and Steve?

Ignoring the intense stare from across the fire, your attention bounces between Johnathan and his visiting friend, Argyle.

“I’m telling you,” Jonathan tries to explain.

“And I’m telling you- there’s nothing, nadda, that can beat the sweet sensation of Purple Palm Tree Delight,” Argyle raises his hands in assumed victory.

A huff of entertained disagreement leaves you, “You’re both incorrect.” Both boy’s soft expressions grow attentive when they look your way. “Clearly neither of you have tried Rick’s newest stock. Calls it ‘Wonderland’. Makes you feel like you’re experiencing everything for the first time. Swear by it.”

Jonathan and Argyle look at you with curious reservation. That’s a bold statement for even the finest connoisseur to make.

Steve chuckles from behind you, “Look, Johnathan, you know me. I don’t smoke anything, usually. But this? Felt like everything was perfect.” His hot breath tickles the shell of your ear sending shivers down your spine. “Notta drop of worry or anxiety- just flooded with, well,” he chuckles, sparing an unabashed look at your glowing form, “wonder.”

Crushing metal and aching knuckles breaks Eddie’s concentration from the interaction. Looking down at the crumpled can, he sees that not only his hand is covered in sticky beer but also Chrissy’s. He didn’t even notice her consoling touch.

Pressing a kiss to her temple, Eddie apologizes while getting up to search for something to wipe them clean. Chrissy follows the back of Eddie’s figure as he makes his way into the house after you and Robin. Something gnaws at the back of her mind and tingles with increasing nervous energy.

Fluorescent lights welcome you and Robin in your rummage to find something appealing to eat. An empty stomach this late into the night never mixes well- from personal experience. Cabinets shut with a bump and suggestions tossed cover the sound of a third pair of footsteps entering the house.

“So are we going to address the elephant in the room?” Robin dances around the kitchen.

“What’re you on about?” you peer over at her, but turn to resume your search.

Robin slaps her hands against the countertop and hums, “Oh I don’t know. You and Steve. Sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-.”

You quickly interrupt her song, “It’s nothing like that. We’re just- he’s just- he’s my best friend is all. That’s all.” Your voice grows an octave trying to explain your connection with Steve.

Blood rushes into his ears as Eddie slams the cabinet closed and whips around to face your shocked form. “Oh, so he’s my replacement, huh? I’ve been wondering where I stand in this,” his voice booms with anger. Not yelling, but an intensity bites at you with every word he bellows.

You pinch the bridge of your nose, a pressure building and hammering against your skull, tired from this conversation already. “You're still my best friend, Eddie. I can have more than one.” You cross your arms and face him head on. If this is how he wants this to go down- so be it. You’re not going to hold back. Not anymore.

“Really?” he squints in mock amusement. “Because with the way you’ve fucked off with Harrington and left me,” he shifts from pointing at the back yard towards himself, “It seems like you’ve moved on pretty fast.”

Your fingertips twitch and tingle from the bubbling rage rising in your body. Robin coughs uncomfortably before she scurries to the backyard. A look of panic paints her face when she takes one last look at the scene.

“That’s pretty rich coming from you, Munson,” you spit with venom. A ferocity, one that even strikes fear in Eddie, exudes from you.

“The hell’s that supposed to mean?” Eddie’s voice drops to dead seriousness.

You let out a cold bark of laughter, “You’re fucking with me, yeah? You cannot actually be this blind to it all.” You stare at him incredulously, his stone-like expression never melts to recognition.

“You really are,” you pause, “Where do I begin?”

Slowly drawing closer to Eddie, you stand toe to toe with him. His big brown eyes, once held your heart hostage, now hold nothing but unease as he looks you square in the eye. Trying to still appear in confident control, Eddie can’t help but swallow every word he wanted to say.

In a very calm, but firm tone, “You disappeared first,” you state, jabbing a finger to his chest with each word. The last one causes a surge of fire to kindle in you, as you observe a flinch to shudder through Eddie.

By this time, Robin had already relayed in a worried ramble what was unfolding inside to the rest of the group. Steve and Chrissy launch themselves towards the house with Johnathan and Argyle following close behind. Vicky and Robin try to reassure the kid’s worried concerns that it’ll work out. Nancy chews on her lip to numb the creeping fear festering in her and watches as a crowd forms at the entrance.

Neither of you notice the small audience, who hang out to your every word, at the sliding door. “I had to hear second hand from Robin and Nance what you were up to when the letters stopped coming and the phone calls went silent,” you hiss. “Only to find out that you got your girl. Fine- you’re in puppy love. Whatever. We have all of summer to catch up, right?” You let out a raspy, dry chuckle. Eddie’s eyes sting in guilt as apprehension pricks his skin, never seeing you so upset.

“Wrong. Every call I made was followed by an empty promise made by a lovesick boy,” you growl. “Hell, Wayne knows what I was up to, only because he stuck long enough to talk.”

Your pointed look pierces through Eddie, “I can take the whole ‘blinded by young love’ thing, but only to an extent. And I fucking did, for Chrissake! Because I’m so happy- truly and genuinely happy that you’re finally being loved and cared for like you deserve.”

Taking a deep breath, you collect oxygen to feed the fire stoking through your veins. “But you’re an inconsiderate fool who I’m done allowing the ability to break my heart. Time and time and time again. All those years,” your voice wobbles fueled by passion, “I have sat and watched you fall so deeply and hopelessly in love with Chrissy. I caught you everytime she looked past you and set her sight on someone else. I was your shoulder to cry on when she agreed to date Carver, of all people. I was the one to pull you out of your head when you thought you weren’t enough. I loved you so authentically that I offered my bleeding heart on a silver platter.” Your chest heaves, blood rushes to your head, adrenaline buzzes through your body.

“But you never spared me a second glance.”

Neither of you could pinpoint who started to cry first. Dizzying, painful realization washed through Eddie. No longer seeing his lost best friend, but instead recognizes the broken lover that finally shattered.

Swallowing deep breaths, your lungs cry for more air and demand for resolution, “I loved you wholly and unconditionally. Only to be tossed to the side and replaced by your girl.” Straightening yourself and moving in the direction of the front door, you make one more point: “Steve caught me when I fell. I will not- absolutely not- tolerate any jab or ill thought you have against him.”

The resounding echo of the front door slamming sends everyone into a flurry. Chrissy pushes past the boys as Jonathan and Argyle struggle to hold back an infuriated Steve. Eddie stands frozen in place by your chilling truth. The sound of Chrissy consoling him falls mute to his ringing ears. He can only focus on the intense wash of shock invading his system. Eyes locked on the tile floor where you once stood.

Steve breaks free of Jonathan and Argyle’s hold and hurls himself in fury to take up the place you occupied moments ago. Seeing the dazed look on Eddie’s face meet his enraged, wild eyes, Steve’s lost all control as everything turns red. Without second thought, Steve grabs the collar of Eddie’s shirt and sends a sickening blow to his face. Crunching bone and gushing blood triggers a new symphony of shocked cries and heated voices.

Pulling Eddie right to his face, Steve can smell the strong scent of iron from the broken bone. He can only hear the agonizing pants pushing past the metalhead’s mouth. He only feels absolute fear and regret from Eddie.

Shoving off grasping hands at his shoulders, Steve shakes Eddie by the collar with both hands. One side now stained with the owner’s blood. Eyes ablazed and looking right in Eddie’s pained look of acceptance, Steve grits through barred teeth: “I picked up the pieces you didn’t even know you broke.”

With one last jostle, Steve drops Eddie to the ground and makes his leave. “Don’t even think about trying any shit. No apology can make up for the pain you caused.”

Rushing outside, Steve’s eyes dart over the small sea of cars parked in the driveway. His gaze locks onto yours just as you look up from starting the family car. Adrenaline gives him the extra speed to make it into the passenger seat as the group of friends flood out the front door.

“Drive- fucking drive,” Steve exclaims with a laughter of disbelief.

Without question, you floor it in reverse and make your escape. The stereo blocks out their calls and shouts to come back. To explain what the hell just happened. “You gonna tell me what happened when I left?” you probe after a few minutes of excited tension.

“Don’t know what you mean,” Steve shoots you his mischievous smile.

You hum unconvinced by his teasing words and take his tattered hand to press a soft kiss to his bruised and bloody knuckles.

“What’s the soundtrack to our getaway?” Steve inquires, not letting go of your hand. Gently rubbing circles across your knuckles to soothe your slight shaking. Pride glowing in his already lit up eyes at your satisfied smile.

“Heartbreaker, by Pat Benatar,” you victoriously declare.

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avengerthoughts · 5 months

Text

When The Sky Falls - Pietro Maximoff x Reader

Authors Note: Hello! I honestly had a lot of fun writing this, and it's been in my drafts FOREVER, so I hope you like it ! At first I intended to write this into just a single shot, but then I got carried away with actually writing it, so it'll have to be a multi-part series. I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Non-Graphic mentions of past torture, general sad backstories that comes along with villain origins. Tony's kind of an ass in this, I'm soRRY !!!! kind of star-crossed lovers ????

Pairing: Pietro x Reader

Prompt: Like the twins, you were a HYDRA experiment; your powers focus mainly on healing and wound transferring. Your past is a dark secret for Tony, and what happens if he finds out when it's too late?

Words: 4,783

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War.

That's what united the three of you. Having not only Ultron in common, but also HYDRA as well. You had arrived at Hydra first, but the memory of how you wound up there, or anything predating, was nothing but a dark abyss. The only memories that managed survival were early memories of experimentation. Injections, tests, so many that there isn't even a number anymore.

The twins arrived at the same facility years after you had, and since they were kept in the cells next to you, friendship was inevitable. You never got to see them while you were kept captive by HYDRA scientists, but you had little things. Small cracks in the walls, holes that were barely big enough to fit a finger through and sometimes even smaller than that. It may not have been much, but it was enough, and the happiness it provided was nothing like you had ever felt before.

You'd never really had a friend before, then.

Naturally, those within HYDRA weren't too fond of the yapping you three did, and you had found out the hard way the first time they overheard a conversation between you and Wanda. As a consequence for disobedience, they had punished you harshly as a result, despite the pleas and the apologies that left your mouth as they dragged you off.

They had done such a number that you couldn't see properly for a week straight after, and could barely move enough to retrieve your daily food rations. After that, you three learned to only talk when night fell. While no one kept prisoner within HYDRA's walls were ever privy to the beautiful night sky, it was easy to tell when night had fallen. The staff would thin out, and what staff remained would be more focused on their 'important work' than three measly prisoners in the corner.

Still, on their first days you managed to give them a quick run down on things before they had caught you that day. When the best time to sleep was, what to look out for in their meals in case they tamper with it, and how if they ever got hurt too badly all they had to do was sit beside one of the finger-sized holes in the wall and you'd be able to heal them by just touching them. Your first punishment though is what prompted them to ask why you couldn't just heal yourself.

Truthfully? It was the one question you could never answer, and neither could HYDRA. Whatever powers ran through your veins went completely null whenever you used it on yourself, except for the psychic shields. That was the only thing, so it sort of balances out, in a way, but after that they felt a bit more protective of you. The three of you have been inseparable ever since. Along with your healing abilities came an ability to, of course, use psychic shields (or force fields as they're more commonly known by), but also light forms of telekinesis, and an ability to transfer a persons injuries to your own body.

HYDRA was currently training you in the ability to provide a cloak of invisibility to another person within your psychic shield, something that was proving a little more challenging to learn. Transferring wounds, however, is something you often did with the twins when your healing magic wasn't working right that day or you couldn't muster the energy for it, and they only figured it out when Wanda noticed a slight difference. When you actually healed them with magic, your hands would glow white, like an angel, and when Wanda had caught notice of it she was sure to ask you.

After that, she only let you heal her if you could with magic. In part because she couldn't stand the thought of you taking on her injuries, but also because she knew her brother was worse off, and that there was no way in hell that she'd be able to talk you out of transferring his wounds, not in a million years. However, it wasn't a one-sided friendship either, the three of you were there for one another in a way that nobody else could. Not even Bucky; even with his own experience in HYDRA, it still wouldn't be the same.

Wanda, Pietro, and yourself all lived it together, and that set the foundation for an unbreakable bond. It was no surprise when they broke you out of the facility after being released themselves, and it was even less of a surprise when you had followed them and joined forces with Ultron. Their own trauma was separate from yours, and while you may not know what it's like to sit three feet from a bomb for two days straight, but you knew rage.

You knew anger.

And you were angry for them.

When they finally broke you out of the facility, it was the first time you had actually were able to see their faces, and them your own. It was also then that Wanda had granted you with memories of the past, and the memory shards she had when she uncovered a bit about your past on her own (lots of face-punching got her those memories). Pietro was gentle with you then, giving you the biggest of hugs. While Pietro already had a special spot in your heart, your time together with him solidified it.

You knew you were in this together with them, no matter what. You fell for him, and you fell hard, but you always focused on giving your friends the revenge they deserved.

What you didn't know, is that Pietro knew.

Well...

Kinda.

He's not exactly the smartest guy around when it comes to dating.

He thought your crush was more superficial, like you didn't REALLY like him, like you just thought he was hot and that you were just looking for fun.

Did that make any sense? Did you even show any signs that you were even interested in that kinda stuff?

Absolutely not, he's an idiot, but, ya'know, he's your idiot.

He makes up for being an idiot by being a fucking gremlin (read: he makes it a personal hobby to tease you a TON, and to see just how much he can make you blush like an idiot in a day. Shared idiocy, if you will, just a town over. Idiotcity, and idiotvile.)

Wanda has tried many (many, please just pay her for her matchmaking services at this point) to explain things to the both of you; explain to her brother that you like him for more than just his stupid biceps, and explaining to you that her brother is an idiot (but a sweet idiot. Most of the time-).

The thing is he likes you too, more than he lets you see, more than he's even told his sister, and every single day he fights the urge to just sit you down and spill everything to you even though he thinks you won't return his feelings to the same degree. And everyday you do the same.

A weird love limbo (that sounds weird, maybe not a limbo, maybe like....love purgatory??).

It got worse when you had fallen into a style you liked; practical in nature, for all the fighting you'd be taking part in, except for all the white. White leather pants so you could move without worrying about anything showing that shouldn't be, but you kept your top small and skin-tight, because running raises body temperature, and you're more of an agile, keep-dodging-swings-like-a-roach-you-can-never-kill person than someone who drenches themselves in combat.

And boots that actually were practical boots and not New York Fashion Week boots. Your sleeves were detached from your actual top; starting at your elbow in a silver cuff, translucent fabric hugging your forearm comfortably to a tie around your finger, while the other part of the sleeve billowed down to your side, sort of medieval royalty style, and boy did you look like fucking royalty to him.

Even now, he still can't help but stare at you, captured by how beautiful you look. In all white like an angel, but decorated in silvers and blues like an elf.

Elf angel?

Heavenly elf?

He doesn't know, all he knows is that you're drop dead gorgeous, and he loves the way you look so divine, and the way your top hugs your--damn it. Don't look there Pietro, are you a fucking idiot? (yes.)

That being said, he flirts with you.

A lot.

Sometimes just because he can, but mostly because he really really (REALLY) likes you, and can't help it. Naturally, you actually flirt back.

That's how your damnation into the love limbo purgatory was birthed, really. It put the both of you in this odd place of no PDA has actually been exchanged, but you flirt often enough that Wanda has to make fake throwing up sounds to get you two to stop half the time.

The thought of you actually being in love with him never actually crosses his mind with any substance, not even when Wanda tries to explain it, he's always thought it was more of a superficial crush because....well, frankly, he doesn't think he's good enough for you.

It sounds crazy, he knows, The Amazing Pietro (cue muscle flash here) insecure?? Feeling something more than just thinking you're cute, more than just....liking you as a friend. It's a strange feeling, strange enough that it's not like anything he's felt in the past. It's real, this love he feels for you, and maybe....just maybe....he's scared of losing you if he says anything.

It shows prominently when The Avengers meet the four of you in the Salvage Yard. Since you didn't have that excellent of offensive powers, you had hidden in the shadows, kept a psychic field on Wanda to make sure nothing hurt her, and just when Ultron was giving a speech from a place of deep seeded hatred, Tony had showed up just in time. Cracking witty jokes, as if everything was just peachy.

"This is funny? It's what, comfortable?" Pietro had questioned as he stepped forward, and you kept a precautionary field around him, "Like old times?"

"This was never my life." Stark had defended, and you narrowed your eyes as you stepped forward in turn, but stayed behind Pietro.

"No?" You questioned, "But you supplied it, you funded it; took black-tie pictures next to the military officials that were peddling the devastating weapons you created; caring more about the girls around your arm than the families you were killing." You tilted your head, knowing you were getting into his.

It didn't take like for all hell to break loose, and in the chaos Captain America had sent his shield flying at you when you had made a move to use your psychic shield around Ultron. While Wanda was quick to use her own powers to take him down, it wasn't in time to prevent the shield from crashing into your abdomen and breaking a rib or two, and the subsequent piece of metal you crashed into as a result of the shield's velocity.

A broken rib and a gash in your side might be enough to take a normal person down, but HYDRA has done worse to you. Still, Wanda helped you up and made a mental note to check back in on you when all this mess was said and done. Thanks to your time with HYDRA you'd grown used to tuning out the pain for small waves of time, and combined with the adrenaline rushing through your veins, you had no problems putting a psychic bubble around Pietro as he fell to the floor below, just to be sure he wouldn't get hurt.

When Wanda left to do her mind tricks on the Avengers, you jumped down to a slightly dazed Pietro, and Cap giving him blow and telling him to stay down. A strong emotion of protectiveness overcame you and the next thing you know, you're encasing him in a psychic shield and flinging him across the room.

"Pietro!" You exclaimed, rushing to his side, "Pietro, are you okay?"

"Ah," Pietro sighed, shaking his head a little to try and center himself again, "Yeah, yeah I'm good." It wasn't until he had actually moved his head to look at you that he saw the blood staining the white of your attire, and his eyes widened in both worry and fear.

"Princessa," He uttered out, moving closer to you, hands already at your side to inspect the gash "What happened? How bad are you hurt? Which of them did this?"

"I'm fine, silly boy," You shook your head, placing your hands on top his, "When the shield hit me, I fell onto something sharp, that's all. I'll be fine. A rib is definitely broken, but Hydra has done far worse to me, it's nothing I can't handle. I am a tank, very strong." You jokingly flashed your arm muscles to lighten the mood.

Pietro had looked at you skeptically, not fully believing that you were as okay as you were making it seem. There was a good amount of blood still staining your otherwise white top and he couldn't help but question whether or not you were telling him the truth, and the little jump of fear in his heart got the better of him. He held eye contact with you as his grip got just a bit more firm.

"Promise me you'll watch out more, okay?" Pietro practically begged with puppydog eyes that tugged on the strings of your heart just right, "You cannot heal yourself, but you can still use your shields. Care for yourself as I care about you, I've lost a lot, I can't lose you too, okay? Just...promise me?"

"Hey," You spoke softly when you noticed his eyes pooling a little, even as he tried to blink them away, and you moved one of your hands to cup his cheek, "I promise, okay? I'll be more careful."

In all the time you'd shared together, he'd never actually saw you injured before, not even in Hydra. Sure, he could hear it, hear your screams from down the hall, hear your groans of pain when they threw you back into your cell, but he never actually saw anything, and seeing that large cut in your side and all that blood staining your top? It struck a chord in him, and he realized he couldn't live without you.

He also realized he couldn't live without getting to punch Captain America in the face for that whenever he got a chance to.

Which he did, after you two had both gotten up to help Wanda make sure she could spin her webs of fear.

It's a good thing that HYDRA managed to successfully train you in that invisibility thing before you were broken out, because it came in handy when cloaking Wanda from Thor after she had finished putting her spell on him, and Natasha so she wouldn't hear her coming, but you weren't there in time to protect her from Clint. Pietro got there first, literally flinging him across the room after seeing him hurt Wanda (and winning a Best Brother Of The Year Award), and quickly took Wanda to safety to recover.

What Pietro didn't know was that you had lingered behind to bend down to Clint and let him know that it was very mean to electrocute unarmed foes.

"That wasn't very nice of you," You scolded with furrowed brows, "Were you just going to electrocute her to death? I believe that's illegal in what, at least 20 states."

"No offense, but I'm not taking lessons on morality from back alley Shee-Ra." Clint groaned, "Maybe next time if you got the cape on."

"Shee-Ra?!" You nearly screeched with excitement, "You really think so?! I love Shee-Ra--wait, old stuff or new stuff?"

"What?"

"The old Shee-Ra or the new Shee-Ra?" You asked before sighing, "Whatever, it doesn't matter, old man. I'm the original Shee-ra and you, my not-friend, are healed."

What are you-" Clint questions as you put your hands on him, healing the rib he was recovering from. "What?"

"There. That wouldn't have healed on it's own, not properly," You explained calmly, standing back up, "I don't want people dead, I just want my friends to have justice. Please do not do that brain thing again, we are not prisoners on Death Row."

You moved to leave the office you both were in, ready to leave a very confused Clint questioning your motives and true nature, when darkness hit you. Ultron had decided to take you out himself when he saw that you had healed the enemy. From there you were taken onto the jet with the rest of the team; in part to question you, but also to do you the same courtesy you did Clint. If you'd been left there, you would've been killed by Ultron himself.

Clint had explained the whole....encounter to the team, and while they were all wondering why you were really with Ultron then if you'd been so willing to heal Clint, they still kept you in handcuffs. But they put the seatbelt on you too. When you woke up, it was the next day and while everyone had already emptied into the 'Safe House', you were kept in the jet. Naturally, being the enemy is reason enough, and there was no hope for release until one of them came in and started the interrogation.

Wiggling out of the restraints was pointless too, and it hurt. Now you were reminded of your wounds, and as a result their pain now that you didn't have the adrenaline to help. They even parked the jet so they could leave the door open without you actually seeing the house. Nothing but sticks, grass, and branches as far as the eye can see. In the silence, you wondered if your friends made it out okay, if they completed their plan, if they were missing you, what Ultron would tell them both.

Would they forgive you?

Would they kill you if they saw you?

Would Ultron lie?

Was what you did truly so awful?

If you don't get out of here soon you'll never know, you'll die from an infection first. And you were hungry, starved (quite literally). Would they even feed you? Probably not, right? I mean what's the reason to? You're the enemy, allied with people actively trying to destroy them, if anything they should kill you after interrogating you. That's not the style of The Avengers, though. They'll just let you rot either in prison or in a SHIELD cell, where you'll probably be experimented on like you were at HYDRA.

Thor was gone, Natasha was pretty much out of commission, and Tony had been sent to fix a perfectly working tractor, it was left to Steve to question you. Thankfully, Steve came with lunch though, so it made it less anxiety inducing to see him walking up to jet's ramp to set the plate in the seat beside you.

"I know you must be hungry," Steve speaks, releasing you from your handcuffs so you could eat, "When we're done talking, there's a medkit inside, whether you go inside to get it or it's brought to you, depends on you."

You eyed him suspiciously, quietly, wary of his kindness when you should be held prisoner right now. What angle was he working? Was this something that was going to be held over your head later? That's what HYDRA would do. Then they would kill you. Or they would kill your family in front of you, maybe pluck out an eye, and then kill you. The polite smile he offered didn't help either, and you couldn't help but slowly put the plate into your lap, eyeing it for any suspicious activity before returning your gaze to him.

"Why?" You question, not taking a single bite of food until you know for sure it isn't poisoned, "You're being kind. Nice. Why?"

"You don't want to hurt people. I mean sure, you're with the bad guy," Steve shrugs casually, eyeing you, "but...you don't do what the bad guy does. The only time you engaged in combat was when I had hit that guy, and Clint hit Wanda, you were only on defense because you care about them. You weren't hitting to kill."

"You could've thrown me into a sharp pole, or killed Clint when he was down, but you healed him, helped him. Why?" Steve continues his questioning and you look down, pushing the broccoli around.

"You may not have hurt me, mister Rogers, but my friends are angry with you....so I am angry with you," You had begun, "We shared time together, in Hydra."

"Hydra?" Steve questions, and sympathy is written on his features.

You nod.

"Yes. Wanda and Pietro joined of their own accord, but....I didn't." Your brows knitted together, setting the plate back on the seat it was previously on, "They put....things, in me ran tests on me, experiments, I was their Guinea Pig. A rat in their maze. Then Pietro and Wanda joined, and we just...bonded. We went through everything together."

"So you feel obligated to help them?" Steve questions, but you shake your head.

"No." You begin, lifting your head to gaze at the trees, "I mean yes and no; we're friends, so of course I do, but it isn't my only reason. Do you know how horrifying it must be for two kids to sit mere feet from a bomb? Children. Children never deserve to experience that kind of horror, and Stark funded the military's selling of weaponry on the black market for so long, whether he knew it or not is a different story."

"Then what's the other reason?" Steve asks, and you're silent for a moment.

"It's....complicated." You tried to reason when faced with the idea of unpacking everything.

"I was alive during the second World War, and I don't look a day over 30," He spoke, trying to lighten the mood a little before looking at you a bit more sincerely, "I promise, no matter how complicated it is, I've got you."

"Well...Truth be told, for the longest time I didn't have memories before being in Hydra," You confessed, turning your gaze back to the trees, "I couldn't remember who I was, where I came from...who I came from, nothing. All I could remember was Hydra, and all the pain they've caused. I still don't know how long I was kept there, you could tell me I was in there for a thousand years and I'd believe you." You offer a soft chuckle, looking back down at your hands.

"I'm sorry," Steve says sincerely, voice stern, brows knitted together, "You didn't deserve that, I'm sure your family will be happy to know you're okay."

"That's the thing, mister Rogers," You paused for a moment, tears stinging your eyes as a sudden wave of emotions flooded you at the memories you'd been trying hard to forget again this whole time.

It's a bit ironic; you'd been wishing for years for even just a small fragment of a memory from your past, anything before your time in HYDRA. Anything, even just something as simple as a playground in summer, a sandwich made from your mom, anything. You would've killed for it. And now? Now you'd do anything forget them. When you wished for your memories back, you didn't think they'd come with so much pain, so much sorrow.

You were thinking you'd get happy memories; ones of getting an ice cream with your mother on a hot day, or a high school graduation, your mom taking you dress shopping for prom, attending a holiday dinner with family...Instead, what you got were memories of why you were taken in the first place; your mother spending most of your childhood trying to keep you in hiding, and the memory of hearing her screams as you were dragged off into a van before a gunshot was heard.

"Wanda--the witch, when her and Pietro had managed to secure my escape, she..." You took in a deep, shaky breath, "She has many powers, and she's not evil, she's not bad, she's so sweet," You nodded, mostly to yourself, as you looked back up at him, "She helped me remember, gave me my memories back with a single touch, and then shared with me the memories she had when trying to dig up information on my past for me."

"That was...awful nice of her, I'm glad you could get them back." Steve said quietly, hanging onto your every word.

"It was, it is," You nodded again, blinking back tears, "Can you imagine how much it hurts, to wait so long to remember your family, wait with the hope that if you ever escape you can see them again, just to find out they're dead?"

Steve was silent, but his gaze flickered down to his lap for a moment, taking in a breath, before looking back up at you, "I'm sorry, really, I wish it were different for you."

"Me too," Your tears fell freely now, "My mother spend my entire childhood trying to hide me from the men of Hydra, worked herself to death to move us so often, to keep me fed and clothed, and you know who my father was? The person who could've stopped it all?"

Steve was silent for a moment, trying to do the math himself, "Who?"

"None other than billionaire, playboy, philanthropist himself, Tony Stark." You finally confessed.

"You mean-"

"Yes. I mean." You took in another breath, "She tried to talk to him in person, and you know what he did? He had his security throw her out. She tried calling, sending letters, even emails, and guess what the genius of our time tells her?"

Silence fills the air as Steve simmers in shock, trying to take in everything, trying to reason his way through things like he always did to come to his own conclusion. He didn't think you were lying, he's too kind-hearted for that, and your tears of pure agony told him you were truthful. What he was trying to do was figure out if Tony really would do all that, or if maybe it was just a series of misunderstandings.

Steve has a habit of trying to see the best in people who aren't actively trying to destroy the world, and Tony was no different, even despite their differences. He knew HYDRA was serious business, and by extension he knew how difficult it must've been for your mother to keep you hidden from them for so long, and how incredibly strong and intelligent she must've been for doing so.

His brows furrow together as he thinks. No matter what the case is, misunderstandings or not, that's a horrible thing for a kid to live through and an equally horrible thing to be told. He couldn't imagine how it must've felt to be a single mother, trying desperately to keep her child safe from those maniacs, just to be thrown out by the same man who helped bring that child into the world in the first place.

"What does he tell her?" Steve asks, and he almost doesn't want to hear the answer.

"He comes to the apartment we were staying in and tells her that she's crazy and needs serious help. He tells her to stop contacting him, hits her with a restraining order, and then he takes one look at me and then look my mother dead in the eyes and tells her that there's no way a kid like me could've come from him. Says 'that thing isn't my problem', and that if she calls contacts him again he'll have her thrown in prison."

Steve is silent.

"My mother died trying to protect me, to save me from the horrors of that place. She never contacted him again. Stark never bothered to take a DNA test either. So my family is dead, and yes, I have my own motivations for wanting to see the his fall."

"That...That wasn't right, I'm sorry, for everything." Steve says, and steals a glance outside before returning his gaze to you, "Look, you're free to leave the jet, okay? Med-Kit is on the dining table, and Tony's out working on a tractor or something right now so you should be able to dodge him for now. I'll make sure the team knows you're good, okay?"

"Thank you." You speak quietly, returning the smile he gives you before leaving the jet himself.

Leaving you questioning many things, but most of all, what will you do now?

#the avengers #tony stark #wanda maximoff #pietro maximoff #steve rogers #tony stark daughter #tony stark's daughter #pietro x reader #pietro maximov #x reader #imagine #avengers imagine #anti villain #healing powers #superpowered reader #hydra #ultron #age of ultron #avengers age of ultron

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robynlilyblack · 2 years

Text

Broken

Sirius Black and fem! reader

[Requested – see request here]

Summary: Sirius finds out his girlfriend is suffering from depression

Warnings: Major TW - detailed decriptions of depression and suicidal thoughts, mentions of self harm and scars, one mention of blood, swearing, hurt/comfort, non-sexual nudity, insecure reader, one girl being a bit of a bitch

A/n: 4.5k words, Hufflepuff reader, if these topics makes you uncomfortable please don’t read, I’m not trying to glorify mental health issues in anyway, the thoughts and feelings in this story are from my own personal experience when I was at my lowest, this is a really personal piece for me and I knew if I was going to write this request I had to pull from myself so i did also change one part of request ever so slightly so I was more comfortable while writing 💛 I honestly don’t know if anyone will read this one but it was therapeutic for me to pour it all out on the page x

Navigation | Sirius Black Masterlist

You had always felt disconnected from everyone else, like there was this invisible barrier between you and them, like they were given a manual for life which you somehow missed. When you got your Hogwarts letter you felt special, like this was the reason for why you felt the way you did, thinking that once you got there it was all going to magically fix itself, but it didn’t, it only got worse

You were nervous when your parents wished you good luck and bid you farewell at the platform, but it was an excited kind of nerves. You came across another muggle girl called Lily who you sat with on the train along with her friend Severus, they were kind and Severus were nice enough to let you both know what you were in for. When you got there, you were sorted into Hufflepuff, it hurt a little and it was just your luck you ended up in a different house than the two people you had befriended on the journey, and the fact they also got split you didn’t give you peace, you felt bad for them too.

The girls in your dorm didn’t understand you, you laughed and mirrored them as you always did but that wall was climbing again and thoughts swarmed your head, starting small and building as the years went by;

…Why wasn’t I in the cool house? What’s a mudblood? Do they like me or do the feel obligated because I share a dorm with them? What’s wrong with me? I don’t deserve to be here. I’m not special. I’m broken, we’re broken. I wish I could disappear…

The last one was a recurring thought as you went through phases, light ones were you really did feel happy but something would always happen, triggering it and send you spiralling back down. You managed to deal with it in your own way, picking at your skin became a habit, to start it was just you bored in class and you just squeezed a little bump on your arm, it was satisfying, like popping a pimple, the small bit of pain like a relief. After that day it continued, you picked at the scabs you made, making them bigger, you picked at your back, your chest, your arms, legs…

It slowly got worse and worse, you had to clean the blood off of your shirt as the picking had gotten that bad, wearing jumpers and thick tights to hide it. You were getting changed once in your dorm when someone came in and gasped asking ‘what the hell happened to your back’, someone else spotted it on a day you wore a short-sleeved shirt wondering ‘if you’d been bitten by swarm of flies’. Your parents constantly told you to stop picking, and with the comments you did…well for a short while, when OWL’s came around in 5th year the picking was kept to your back, the rest of your body slowly healing but the scars remained, luckily, they just looked like beauty marks or little freckles.

Things changed in the middle of your 6th year, you had begun to hang out with Lily again which was great, but there was a part of you though that it was because Severus called her a mudblood the year before, there was this lingering feeling that you were her second choice. You were happy to have a friend though, and through her you ended up meeting the infamous marauders. Sirius seemed to like you right away, he always made sure he was seated next to you, trying to strike up conversation. You didn’t know what to do at first, nobody let alone a boy had ever talked to you out of wanting, it was so foreign.

Sirius didn’t give up though, eventually you and he became good friends, you really felt like he saw you, understood you. He opened up to you about his family one night in the astronomy tower, it was the first time you saw the boy who was the sheer opposite of you, the boy that was always happy, cry and break down, baring his insecurities and being so vulnerable with you. You held him that night in your arms, even crying with him and falling asleep holding each other. That morning he kissed you, asking if you to be his and you said yes.

Things went well for the first few weeks but slowly those thoughts crept back…just like they always did;

…What does he see in me? We’re so different. I’m too quiet. You should talk more. I think we’re boring him. I’m not pretty enough for him. If he finds out how broken we are he’ll leave us. He’s going to leave us. Everyone always leaves. Would anyone miss me if I went away? No one would miss you. I want to go away. I want to disappear…

You had wanted to tell him about how you were feeling but every time you were about to, you always backed out, scared he wouldn’t understand. Every time before you had tried to put these feelings into words you were met with a generic response like ‘just be happy’, ‘work harder’, ‘power through’ followed by an ‘I don’t understand what’s wrong’

If he asked you to explain it you couldn’t, that was part of the problem, you didn’t know why you felt like this, why you were made this way. You couldn’t explain the urge to lay in bed all day, the lack of enthusiasm to do things you knew you loved but couldn’t in that moment, how you would stop eating properly, stop taking care of yourself. How when it got really bad you didn’t shower, cried randomly one moment then felt utterly numb the next. He would never understand, especially since you, according to the world, had nothing to be sad about, he had it worse, he had been abused verbally and mentally, you had no right to complain when you didn’t have a reason to be ‘sad’, right?

One day you were sitting in the library with the marauders and Lily. You had finished your essay as had Remus and Lily but you all decided to wait for the others. Lily and Remus were in their own quiet conversation that you were awkwardly perched on the end of. You felt so embarrassed just sitting there listening like you were eavesdropping or something, so you sat back removing yourself from Remus’ view on the other side of Lily.

As you let all the thoughts crowd your head, spacing out as you mindlessly doodled on a bit of parchment to seem somewhat occupied, Remus noticed you pulled back. He thought at first, he imagined that look in your eye, the same look he had when he was beating himself up. He didn’t say anything since Sirius would make you smile, pepper kisses across your face to get you giggling, but for some reason he felt like that wasn’t a good plan. It was beginning to happen more often, it wasn’t his place to say anything but he knew he should do something

Remus nudged Sirius’ foot discreetly under the table, thankful for the boys’ slumped seating position so he could reach it. Looking up to see who nudged him or if it was just an accident Sirius caught Remus’ eye, watching him nod to you before returning to his original conversation. Sirius sat up properly, examining your face and body language, you looked so sad it made his heart ache.

He’d noticed, you didn’t think he had but he did, he noticed when you would pull back suddenly, despite your actions being no different he saw the way your smile no longer reached your eyes, the way it seemed like you were thinking, something always on your mind. When you did it with him he was scared that he had been pushing you to go too fast, that sometimes he would be touching you and you were just too nervous to tell him you didn’t like it. After a while he figured out that wasn’t the case, so he started to wonder if it was the rumours that were getting to you, or maybe school stress, or was someone bullying you…his thoughts were relentless. Whatever it was he tried to comfort you, support you, waiting for you to tell him when you were ready.

He shuffled a little closer to you, moving take your free hand which was fiddling with the end of your tie, giving it a gentle squeeze. You stopped doodling as he did this, he watched as your gaze shifted down to them, your lips tugging up a little, that heaviness that surrounded you gone for a mere second before it returned

“Darling” he whispers “You want to go back to my dorm? Or yours?” he suggests leaning his head gently on your shoulder and giving it a quick kiss over the fabric

You stay quiet for a moment before nodding “Can we go to mine?” your voice so quiet but he heard it, he always heard you

“Guys we’re gonna head” Sirius announces pulling back from you, letting go of your hand briefly as you pack up, your movements more sluggish than his

After wishing his friends goodbye he wraps his arm around your waist as you walk, he doesn’t say anything at first waiting until you were in an abandoned bit of hallway “Are you feeling okay?” he stops walking hand moving to check your forehead

Your eyes close as he touches you “I’m fine” you say but you don’t sound it

He brushes some hair from your face before moving his arm back around you and walking again “I’m here if you need me darlin” he gives your waist a little squeeze in reassurance

Sneaking him up to your dorm you seemed to relax “Two of dormmates are having a sleepover and the other is with her girlfriend so they won’t be back until tomorrow” you explain your reason for going here even although he didn’t ask

Sirius smiles taking off his bag and shrugging off his robes, placing both neatly on your desks chair “What you fancy doing?” he asks sitting on the end of the bed, leaning back on his hands

You don’t answer right away just tugging on your bottom lip for a few moments “Can we hug?” you ask hopefully

He chuckles a little which makes you feel silly, when he sees your frown he tilts his head “Aww darling come here” he motions for you to climb on to his lap but you shuffle on your feet embarrassed “Y/n” he leans forward gently grasping your hands and pulling you towards him

“Sorry” you mumble head down looking at your intertwined hands

His eyebrows furrow, letting go of your hands and softly grasping your hips, pulling you closer to him “Why are you sorry? You have nothing to be sorry for” he shakes his head

“I…I’m…I’m sorry” you repeat pressing your hands to your face to hide the forming tears

Sirius doesn’t say anything just gently encourages you onto his lap, wrapping his arms around you protectively as your head, still in your hands, leans on his chest. One of his hands moves to the back of your head, caressing your hair, before leaning his head on yours, placing a kiss to it

A few minutes later you pull back, eyes puffy and raw, wiping your nose with the sleeve of your shirt “You want to talk about it?” he asks softly, the pad of his thumb wiping the tears away from each side of your cheeks

Should you tell him? You knew you should, it wasn’t safe to let yourself do this alone but your fears were getting the better of you “No” you whisper, shaking your head unable to look at him

“You sure?” Sirius moves away the stray hairs that had stuck to your cheeks “You can tell me anything?” his voice wasn’t pleading but it was laced with it, he didn’t want to push you but he was getting worried

“I’m fine, just got a little overwhelmed with my essay…” you were overwhelmed but it wasn’t from school “and it’s just all catching up to me” you give him the best smile you could

Sirius looks into your eyes, like he’s trying to read your mind before he smiles back nodding “Okay darling” he gently pecks your lips “You want to go for a nap and cuddle?” he poses while your hands slip down to your wrist gently scratching at the vein, seeking relief

You nod but he hears the scraping of your nails against your skin, eyes trailing down “Y/n…” he grasps your wrists pulling them away from each other before attempting to inspect the skin but you quickly pull your hands back “Darling?” he looks upset…concerned…maybe heartbroken?

You remove yourself from his lap watching as he reaches out but stops just before his fingers get to you, mouth opening to say something but nothing comes out, what should he say? Did he do something? Why were you hiding your wrist?

“Y/n what’s wrong?” he asks the worry evident in his voice as he tries to refrain from letting the tears that were welling fall but when you stay quiet one falls “Please…please I don’t want to push you…I just….just want to help” please let me help

Help you? No one ever offered to help you, they always told you what to “You wouldn’t understand” you shake your hand looking at the floor

“Try me” he holds his hand out towards you, hoping you’ll take it

Instead of speaking you start to unbutton your shirt making his eyes go wide “Y/n w…what are you doing?” he stutters a little going to stop you but you shake your head

You and Sirius had never gone by kissing, you slept next to each other sure but he had never seen you naked, never seen the scars. He had once told you his secrets now it was time for you to bare yours, you weren’t sure if you were ready but there was this tiny voice amongst the noise screaming for you to do it, to tell him.

You continue to remove your shirt, watching as Sirius keeps his eyes fixed on your face as best he can, confusion painted across his. When you finish with the buttons you let the fabric drop to the floor, leaving you in just your bra.

Sirius’ eyes flick down before he closes his eyes, feeling guilty for looking “Siri” you try to get his attention but his eyes remain closed “Please look at me” you ask, sniffling lightly

He looks back up eyes fluttering open, watching you give him a nod before his eyes trail over your body. Your neck, the little blemishes between your breasts, then back to your upper arms and shoulders were there were more little blemishes and finally your wrist. The irritation from your nails still present, faint lines streaking across them.

He lets out a shaky breath as his eyes return to your face, watching as you turn away from him, revealing your back, similar blemishes running from your shoulder blades and down your spine, along with some open cuts…spots? He couldn’t tell

He notices you looking in the mirror, a frown on your face “Y/n” he stands up walking slowly towards you “Can I?” he ghosts his hands over your hips

His hands gently wrap around as you nod, slithering around your waist, hands settling on your stomach “You’re beautiful” he whispers, kissing your bare shoulder as his thumbs rub gently at the elastic of your skirt

You shake your head “You see these” you raise your arm, pointing to one of the blemishes “These aren’t beauty spots, or freckles…or blemishes…” you take a moment to ready yourself “They are scars…and I made them…every one of them I created when I was upset, or nervous…it…it gave me relief” you turn your head to look at him “They’re ugly”

He removes his arms from your front and grasps your hips moving you gently around to face him before cupping your cheeks “They are not ugly. You are not ugly” his voice sincere but firm, licking his lips as he pushes some hair from your face “What…you don’t have to tell me” he adds before asking “What happened to your wrists?” his fingers gently take your hand holding it up

“I scratch at them…I just get the urge to” you try to explain it

He lifts your wrist up to his lips, placing a gently kiss on the scars “Come here” he walks backwards, pulling you with him as he sits on the bed and you settle onto his lap “You said I wouldn’t understand it…was these what you meant…” his fingers glaze one on your clavicle

“A part of it” he nods for you to go on “Sometimes I get these…thoughts, bad ones, and those lead me to picking and hurt…umm…hurting myself”

He winces at the last bit “How can I help?” you tilt your head “What wrong?”

“I don’t know” you answer honestly “I don’t know what’s wrong with me” you start to break down

“There is nothing wrong with you” he looks at you in disbelief, how could an angel like you think that “You are wonderful, whatever is going on it isn’t because you are broken” he tries to reason

You let out a sob “But everyone else…”

“Fuck everyone else…Sorry” he butts in apologising as your eyes blow wide “I’m sorry darling…please continue” he kisses your nose, hand rubbing up and down your arms, soothing the goose bumps that had formed from the cold air of the room

“I’m built…weird…I feel silly all the time, I can’t talk to people, I don’t understand why I can’t be normal like everyone else, why I feel like everyone hates me. I feel fine one minute then and the next all I want to…to…just disappear” it all spills out

“Disappear?” he questions worried that it means what he thinks it does

Your hands go to scratch but Sirius gently takes them into his, lacing your fingers together “Disappear like go away…everyone would be better without me, I’m just a burden” your voice is a whisper at this point

Sirius’ mouth parts, his heart shattering at the confession “How…” he starts to cry “How would the world be better if you weren’t in it?” he pulls you closer to him “Darling”

“I shouldn’t have said anything…” you start to cry as well

“Why?”

“I made you cry” you blub out, you felt terrible, you made the person you love cry over how broken you were

Sirius wrapped his arms around you tightly, head burying itself into the crook of your neck, clinging on to you like he was going to lose you, a mantra of mumbles leaving his mouth that you couldn’t decipher from your own crying and his

The moment was interrupted as the door suddenly opens, Sirius and your heads shooting up to see one of your dormmates walking in “Oh” she looks startles to see you, her eyes trailing over the position you were sitting, the lack of your shirt and the fact both of you were clearly crying “What’s going on?” she asks like it was her business to know

“That’s between me and my girl” Sirius answers for you, voice firm despite the tears, holding you close to him to hide you from her inappropriate stares

She doesn’t look convinced “Your girl? This looks like a break up to me” she scoffs

“No one fucking asked you” he snaps at her irritated “And for your knowledge it isn’t a break up, there is no way in hell I’m every willingly breaking with her. Until y/n’s bored of me she’s stuck with me because I love her…get the hell out I don’t care if your dorm out!” he half shouts the last part pointing for her to leave, he didn’t mean to rant but in his emotional state he couldn’t stop it

“Whatever” the girl shrugs rolling her eyes, closing the door behind her as she walks out

Sirius shakes his head “What is wrong with her…who asks that” he says annoyed while you just look at him in a mild shock, love you, he’d never said that before “Seriously what makes her think she can just assume that and don’t get me started…”

“Siri” you try to interject but he continues

“…on the way she was staring at you, she should have left right away this was a private…”

“Siri” you tug on his shirt, finally getting his attention

“…conversation…” his voice slows down “Merlin…sorry” he leans his forehead in yours

“You love me?” you ask quiet and unsure if you heard him right

He pulls back, cupping your cheeks “Very much…not exactly the way I meant for it to slip out I was planning something much more romantic and less…rave-y” he chuckles a little

Sirius takes a moment to think before looking into your eyes “When you feel that way…feel like you don’t want to be here anymore, tell me…I know you won’t want to…” his eyes become glassy “…but please tell me”

“I’ll try” is all you could say

He gives you a sad smile nodding “Thank you” he kisses your forehead “I do have an idea for how to help with the picking…if you want of course” he asks checking you were comfortable, continuing as you nod “When you feel like picking, take my hand…like this” he laces your hand in his larger one giving it a gentle squeeze “Doesn’t matter if we’re in class or just hanging out, you take my hand…we can try it for a little while see if it helps?”

Your lips tug up ever so slightly but drop again “What do I do when you’re not next to me?” you didn’t want risk becoming completely reliant on Sirius, that wouldn’t be fair on him or you

“You sit with James, Remus and Lily in other classes you aren’t with me and when we’re hanging out as a group so…” he takes a second “with your permission I’ll let them know that if you take their hand you’re a little nervous and they’ve to let you hold it, or if it’s really bad take you somewhere you can calm down” he poses looking for any signs of worry “I won’t tell them any more than that”

You mouth parts, tears in your eyes but they aren’t of sadness “You would really do all that for me, they would really do that?” you check, you didn’t think they actually liked you, just put up with you

“Of course they love you, not as much as I love you but they do” he assures “Lily ever since I met her has talked about how nice you were. I’d heard so much and may have staked you slightly from afar…” he admits making you giggle, the sound warming his heart “…that when she introduced you finally I was so excited” he starts smiling “Remus and James think you’re wonderful, Remus likes having someone that listens and talks to him about books, James loves studying with you because you always doodle the most random things. You know how some of your spare parchment went missing?” you nod “He stole it because you drew a stag, he has it in a little frame in his room”

You let out quick breath “Really?” you say surprised, you couldn’t believe it

“Really” he affirms

You were happy but you also knew that this might not last “Siri…this…these thoughts come randomly, I might start feeling like this again…it goes through phases” a sad look spreads across your face “Sometimes I think I got better but then I just have a setback and realise I’m still broken”

“That’s okay…not…fuck” he cringes “I mean it’s okay that you don’t get better overnight” he says shocking you “Darling there isn’t a quick fix to anything I know that, I’ve watched Remus go through something similar, but over the years with me, James and Pete…” he trails off thinking for a second before reaching over to grab a bit of parchment and his quill, beginning to draw a graph

“Right so this is time” he points to the bottom axis “This is the intensity of the bad feelings or thoughts” he points to the other “So right now it’s like this” he draws a large peak “then it goes down and eventually happens again right?” you nod watching as he draws another peak but its smaller than the last “Each time you feel like this you’ll get a little bit better at dealing with it…” he continues drawing peaks all slowly getting smaller until he draws a larger one again confusing you “…every now and again it’ll get worse, but that’s not a set back because when you look at this on a large scale the trend is going down” he explains “Close up there’s all these bumps in the road” he traces over the peaks “But the general trend is you are…it’s not a fix…it’s more of a way of dealing with it easier, it won’t knock you down as hard as it did before” he looks up at you, cringing a little at he feels he’s lost you “That made no sense did it” he sighs in defeat

“No I…I think I get it” you nod before a grateful look appears on your face “This is the first time anyone’s taken the time to explain this to me…most people say I should just be happy” you mock

“Well they’re stupid” Sirius says plainly making you laugh “Also my statement earlier about fuck everyone else still stands…metaphorically of course I’d prefer you only did the literal with me” he can’t help himself and that earns him a nudge

“Siri” you bite your lip a tad embarrassed, slowly remembering you’ve been shirtless this whole time

Your arms come up to cover yourself, something Sirius notices “Here” he pulls off his jumper, helping you to slip in on “Better?”

“Yeah…thanks” you hug the jumper, sniffing it gently “Can we nap and cuddle now?”

He smiles “Course darlin,” he lets you stand up, moving over to open the covers and letting you crawl in before joining you

He gently fixes the covers and positions you to lay your head on his chest “Siri” you look up at him

“Yeah darling?” he gives you a little squeeze as he looks down

“I love you too” you say with a smile to which he leans down giving you a kiss to the lips

A/n: Truthfully i did’t know how to end it, it is quite long but the ending is a little rushed and i apologise for that 💛

#sirius black and reader #sirius x reader #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black x you #sirius x you #sirius and reader #sirius black and you #Sirius Black #siriusblack #hurt/comfort #marauders era #maraduers #sirius x y/n

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visiting-naturalist · 2 years

Text

August 1

I believe I am recovered from my experience enough now to record what happened to me after I entered the cave of Pikaman.

Entering the gloom with my lantern held aloft, I immediately felt a sort of all-over shiver, an electric force running up and down my body as if I’d just stepped through an invisible curtain.

I passed by hoards of fascinating artifacts and growths lining the cave walls that I longed to stop and examine: glowing crystals, humming moss, twisting golden filaments that squirmed along the stone, moving and alive. But I made myself move quickly along, until I reached a larger room, where stalactites and stalagmites met in tall columns.

And in the center: Pikaman.

His large ears swiveled forwards. He rose from his nest of colored string.

“I’m the Naturalist,” I called out, “I’ve come to meet you—to ask you some questions—?”

No reply.

I was, I’ll admit, wholly terrified. He was close now, towering over me. The prehensile feet which had made the prints which led me here—the shiny yellow fur—and those inhuman eyes, black voids, boring into me.

And then I realized: he did not understand me. I cursed myself—what prejudice I brought with me! To simply assume that any creature would be able to converse with me, even if he were willing! I suppose knowing of his impressiveness and intelligence I had thought—oh, but it hardly mattered now what I had thought. It had all been for naught, that much was apparent. I could not make my peaceful intentions known to him, so he would fall upon me in fury for entering his den, and nobody would ever hear of me again. My poor Intern, stranded, alone in a strange land…! I felt ashamed of my idiocy. I wanted to cry…

And then, as Pikaman bore down on me, looming, his mouth curling in a grimace, I heard the voice of the meme peddler echo in my ears…

For when words fail.

“🌿💡💓!” I shouted. I raised up the rings on my fingers and pointed them at Pikaman.

He stopped in his tracks. The grimace turned to a smile.

“🌿💡💓? 👆⚡️🏆💖!”

Suffice to say, we were then able to converse in a language we both spoke. Alas, he did not wish to have his origin known. I could not get him to tell me from whence he had come, or what his purpose was in coming, or if there were more of him—a whole distant land of Pikamen, as I had idly imagined.

But he told me that he was proud of me for braving the wilds of Tumblr to visit him: something nobody had yet done, and he had been quite lonely. And as a reward for finding him, in lieu of knowledge of his own history, he would give me knowledge of something else.

“Give me knowledge?” I asked. “But how?”

He beckoned me close. His fingers were very very long, and tipped with fur. Electricity sparked between them as he reached out to place them on my forehead.

And for one blinding infinite moment I saw it all. Tumblr in its entirety — machinery, magic, love — my consciousness flung out to the very periphery of this land, understanding everything, brilliance and darkness and laughter and pain and comfort all at once, the way thousands of souls slotted and slid together simultaneously in that dance of delight —

Then it was over. He had taken his hand away: the connection was broken.

“👁?”

I stammered, “Yes—yes, I saw it—I saw it all—😵‍💫👆👁👌.”

“🏞2️⃣.” it all saw you too.

Which meant, I suppose, that my face or form has now been scattered temporarily across the land, just as Pikaman’s was. An unexpected honor, I think.

I don’t remember much after that, only I somehow made it back to my camp and slept for what seemed like at least a full day, exhausted by the experience.

Among everything else I must consider over the journey home, I find I’m most concerned about Pikaman’s loneliness. It is a trial of a journey, true, but perhaps now I must do my best to encourage others to pay him a visit. I was the first, but surely I shall not be the last.

And now I must make my way back to my base camp, where the second half of my Guidebook to Tumblr still remains to be written…

#quest #visiting naturalist

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imekitty · 1 year

Note

Pink astronaut prompt: Spiderman and mj style kiss.

The sand felt so good, nice and cool squished between her toes. Paulina tilted her head back and closed her eyes, breathing deep and squeezing Danny’s hand as she walked alongside him.

“Coming to the lake was a great idea,” said Paulina. She looked across the water at the setting sun. “It’s so pretty.”

Danny also looked at the sun, large and orange as it neared the water on the horizon. He held Paulina’s high-heeled shoes slung over his shoulder. “It really is.”

Paulina playfully bumped him with her hip. “You’re not gonna say ‘yeah, you are’ this time?”

“Nah. I’m saving all my corny jokes for ghost fighting later tonight.”

Danny was looking straight ahead now. Paulina stared at his face in profile, so handsome, so perfect. She sighed, causing him to turn to her.

“What?” he asked.

“I just can’t believe that I’m really going out with the ghost boy,” said Paulina, lacing her fingers through his. “Danny Phantom is my boyfriend, that’s just so…incredible.”

Danny shook his head. “You’ve got it all wrong. What’s incredible is that I’m dating Paulina Sanchez, the hottest girl in school. The whole town, even.”

“Oh, stop.”

“People are shocked when I tell them you’re my girlfriend. They have no idea how a nerd like me could get a knockout babe like you.”

“You’re not a nerd. You’re way cooler than I am. I mean, what do I have, fashion sense?” Paulina chuckled and rolled her eyes. “You can turn invisible and walk through walls.”

“All ghosts can do that.” Danny shrugged. “It’s nothing special, really.”

“But not all humans can,” said Paulina. “Just you.”

Danny smiled, his cheeks looking rosy in the dimming twilight.

“Well, not just you, I guess,” said Paulina. “Mayor Masters can do it, too. And your female clone you were telling me about.” Paulina chortled. “You’ve actually been cloned. You really have done and seen it all, haven’t you?”

Danny’s smile faded. “Yeah, I’ve… I’ve had a lot of interesting experiences.” He paused. “Not all of them good.”

“Well, your life is definitely a lot more exciting than mine,” said Paulina. “I used to think choosing my outfit each morning was a do-or-die decision. But hearing about your adventures, it just makes me realize how silly my obsession with staying at the top of the social ladder was.”

“And yet, I still wanted to be popular,” said Danny. “More than ever after I got my ghost powers, honestly. I just thought I was a…a freak. But I thought if I could just be accepted by the cool kids, then I’d finally be happy.”

“A freak? Yeah, right,” said Paulina. “Everyone in the A-List thinks Danny Phantom is the coolest kid ever.”

“Well. I sure don’t feel like it,” said Danny, smiling weakly.

“You really don’t think your powers are cool?” Paulina scoffed. “Danny, baby, if I had your powers—oh, the things I would do.”

Danny’s smile turned mischievous. “Oh, yeah? What things?”

Paulina looked up at the darkening sky bejeweled with tiny stars just popping out. “Well, I could go out running in the morning without wearing any makeup at all, like I would just turn invisible and no one would ever know. Then I could sleep in an extra half hour.”

“But you already look stunning without makeup.”

“And I could walk through a big crowd without worrying about some perv pinching my ass. I would just turn intangible and march on through.”

“Okay, yeah, I’ve done that.”

“What? Gone intangible to prevent someone from pinching your ass?”

Danny laughed. “No, I mean I’ve gone intangible to get through a big crowd. Like I one time phased Sam, Tucker, and me to the very front of a big outdoor concert. It was awesome.”

“Sounds like it!” agreed Paulina. She looked up at the sky again and sighed. “And if I could fly, I would glide under the stars every night.”

“You can do that anyway.” Danny squeezed her hand. “With me.”

Paulina brought her gaze back down to find Danny’s eyes pulsating with a soft, otherworldly glow, more dazzling than any night sky as Paulina lost her breath staring into them.

“I do have you,” she murmured.

The glow in Danny’s eyes faded as he lifted her hand clasped in his and kissed her knuckles.

“I’m happy to use my powers to do anything you want,” he said, letting their hands fall again.

“Anything?” asked Paulina impishly.

“I mean, you know…” Danny caught her look and smiled. “As long as it’s legal.”

Paulina hummed. “Well, there is something I’ve always wanted to try ever since we started going out…”

“Oh, yeah? What is it?”

Paulina bit her lip and threaded her fingers through a lock of her hair.

“Come on.” Danny nudged her shoulder with his upper arm. “You can tell me.”

“Well, it’s, ah…kind of like…a fantasy.”

Danny’s eyes flashed with a quick glow again. “Oh, now I have to hear it.”

Paulina’s lashes lowered. “Promise you won’t make fun of me?”

“I would never,” said Danny. “I mean, I’ve told you some of my fantasies, so I’d really love to hear at least one of yours.”

Paulina’s steps slowed until they stopped altogether. Danny also stopped.

“Okay, um…” Paulina pushed her hair behind her ears. “You know Spider-Man, right?”

“Of course.”

“You know the movies? Like not the most recent ones, but the ones with Tobey Maguire and Kirsten Dunst?”

“I sure do,” said Danny, smirking.

Paulina couldn’t stop a grin of her own. “Why do I feel like you already know what I’m going to say?”

“Because there’s a scene I’ve always wanted to recreate with someone, too.”

“Oh, yeah? What scene?”

“No, you first.” Danny kicked at the sand. “I don’t want to get my hopes up.”

“Well, maybe we can do both if we’re thinking of different scenes.”

“Just tell me already. The suspense is killing me.”

Paulina pressed her lips. “The upside-down kiss.” She hoped she didn’t have to say anything more than that.

To her relief, Danny did not laugh. He actually sighed. Dreamily, even.

“I’ve always wanted to try that, too,” he said.

Paulina beamed. “Really?”

“Yeah. Really.”

“I mean, doesn’t it just look so sexy?” Paulina clutched his arm. “So can we try it?”

“Of course,” said Danny, looking around. “We’ll just need to find a tree that you can hang upside down from—”

Paulina shook him. “Danny, not me!”

“Well, why not?”

“Maybe because I’m wearing a dress?”

“That sounds like the perfect reason why you should do it.”

“Danny!” Paulina lightly smacked his shoulder. “You’re the one with the ghost powers, silly.”

“Yeah, but I don’t know how sexy I’d look upside down.”

“You’d look so sexy.”

Danny sighed. “Well, you know I’d have to transform to hang that way, right?”

“I do know that. You can’t engage your antigravity abilities in human form.”

“So you don’t mind kissing me in ghost form?”

“Of course not,” Paulina purred. “I love kissing you in ghost form.”

“I just thought maybe my lips are too cold for you when I’m a ghost.”

“Mmm, they are cold, but I love the sensation.”

Danny scanned the area. “Should we go somewhere more private?”

Paulina also looked around. “I don’t see anyone around here. And a kiss by the lake is always so romantic.”

Danny smiled, looked around once more, and closed his eyes. Two rings of light formed around him, pulling apart and changing him, revealing her beautiful ghost boy with his icy hair and tight jumpsuit that drove Paulina absolutely crazy. He opened his eyes, glowing bright green now.

The sun had almost completely vanished, but Danny’s spectral glow provided plenty of light for them to see each other’s blushing faces, Paulina’s pink and Danny’s green.

“Okay, okay!” Paulina took her high heels out of Danny’s hand and held them between her clasped fingers, bouncing on her toes in the sand. “I’m ready!”

Danny ran his newly freed hand through his hair, the frosted locks pushing back before falling forward again. He then lifted into the air and hovered above the sand.

Paulina chewed her bottom lip in anticipation.

Danny floated a little higher before flipping himself over, aligning his face with Paulina’s.

“Does all the ectoplasm rush to your head when you’re upside down?” asked Paulina.

“No,” said Danny. “I’m in antigravity mode. I could stay like this for hours and hours.”

“Well, that’s good to know,” said Paulina with a coy smile while dropping her heels onto the sand. “Because I could certainly kiss you for hours and hours.”

Danny smiled, then closed his eyes, his lips drawing together. Paulina placed her hands on either side of his face and brought him near, closing her eyes as well.

Static passed between their lips before they met, his ghostly energy misting against her skin, a fluttery sensation that made her think of fluffy clouds in the night sky, clouds that she could actually touch and hold and play with.

Kissing him in ghost form was magical, like nothing that could ever normally exist on Earth.

And in this position, it was an even more peculiar feeling. With his nose out of the way, she was able to angle deeply into his mouth, her fingers tugging on his ears and then moving to his jaw, his neck. Paulina could feel him smiling as she drank him in, enjoying the feel of his top teeth flipped over, the underside of his tongue so easy to tickle.

His hands tangled in her hair, a wonderfully chilled sensation against her scalp.

When they finally released each other, the sun was completely gone. Nothing but milky moonlight and sparkling stars.

Still upside down, Danny pressed his nose to hers.

“Was that everything you hoped it would be?” he whispered.

Paulina hummed and kissed his nose. “So much more.”

She placed her hands over his ears, laying her cheek against his, feeling his cold breath on her neck.

She couldn’t possibly let him go now.

#danny phantom #danny fenton #paulina sanchez #pink astronaut #danny/paulina #darkcrowprincess #imekitty writes #prompt writing

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rowanaelinn · 2 years

Text

Wires - Chapter One

Masterlist

A/N: I’m not sure I’m satisfied with this one as I’m not used to enemies to lovers, but I hope you will enjoy this chapter

Warnings: language | Word Count: 3,800

This place was loud. Not in an overwhelming sense, the one that had him hide in the bathroom while his father worked his charm on sponsors. Even if he was hiding now, sitting between the two cars, he didn’t feel as if he needed to. He liked to be invisible sometimes, he liked it when someone found him in an improbable place.

The paddock was very loud, people shouting, engines roaring, the noises from other paddocks heard through those walls.

His father was going to race in a few hours, and for the first time, he’d allowed him to come. That had come at a price, but he was proud of himself for making it here.

He had to win ten karting competitions in a row, and he’d done it. His prize was the plane ticket his mother booked earlier this week, and his father picked him up at the Miami’s airport.

At first, he followed his father everywhere. He didn’t want to miss anything, he wanted to experience an entire Grand Prix weekend. But when he followed his father even to the toilet, his father had enough and sent him away for a couple of hours. He would race soon and needed to focus, that was what he said.

So, Rowan Whitethorn ended up hiding between two racing cars. Even in his wildest dreams he couldn’t think of driving these cars, although it was his end goal. Why his father made him work so hard. Yet, Rowan couldn’t picture himself there yet.

He had to become one of the twenty best drivers in the world, how much chances did it had to happen? Close to none, but he wouldn’t stop trying. Failing was part of the process too.

Now all he had to do was wait for his father to find him.

Maybe he should have peed before hiding. Why did he always have to need to pee when he hid? Couldn’t his body know that it wasn’t the appropriate time?

“Oh!” Someone let out a surprised gasp, when he looked up, Rowan saw the most mesmerizing blue eyes he had ever seen in his life. The little girl, who had to be at least two years younger than him, covered her mouth with her hand. “I didn’t know anyone was here.”

English wasn’t her first language, but it wasn’t his own either. Yet, she mastered it better than he did even at her younger age. He didn’t know how to recognize accents, but hers was lovely.

“This place is occupied,” he answered. His father had made him take English lessons since he was a kid, said that it was necessary of him if he wanted to enter this world.

A frown took over her lovely features, “I didn’t want to steal your hiding place.”

That would be the moment when Rowan shrugged and looked away. He didn’t like to intrude in people’s business. But Rowan, surprising himself, asked, “What are you doing here then?”

She looked around, her long blonde hair whipping to the side as her head moved. When she turned her head back to him, her grin could only be described as wicked. “I came to steal my daddy’s car.”

His eyebrows shot to his hairline, “Which car?”

She rolled her eyes, and he felt as if his question was stupid. Who did she think she was? She threw a look at the two racing cars and pointed to the one with the number “3” written on it. Every driver chose a number when they entered Formula One and that number would follow them until their retirement. The same number would be printed on each of their car.

His jaw hung opened before he asked in a whisper-hiss, “Your father is Rhoe Galathynius?”

She crossed her arms, “Sí, ¿qué te importa?”

“What?”

Once more, she rolled her eyes. She had the movement perfected, and from their last two minutes of interaction, she seemed to do it a lot. “Yes, he is my dad. Are you a fan?”

He looked around the paddock, no one was paying them attention. Who cared about two kids when a million dollars competition was about to take place? “He is a good driver.”

“The best,” she corrected him on an incredulous tone. “He is the best driver.”

Rowan shook his head, “No. My dad is.”

“And who is your dad?” she asked, sitting next to him without asking for permission. He thought she was here to steal a car? Well, it didn’t really seem like a realistic plan anyway.

“Julien Whitethorn.”

No recognization shone in her eyes and yet she said, “Mi papà says he is sloppy.”

“Hey!”

“Just saying,” she answered with a grin, winking at him as she wrapped her arms around her legs. She was only wearing a yellow sundress, and Rowan could only notice how pretty it looked with her hair. But he didn’t say anything. “This place is so cool,” she breathed. “You can see everyone, but no one can see you.”

He frowned, “That’s why I picked it, find your own.”

She pouted, “Can’t you share a little?”

“Only if you tell me your name.”

She looked at him warily, before she answered with the softest accent he ever heard, “Aelin. You?”

“Rowan.”

She repeated his name, his heart doing something weird in his chest as she tested it on her tongue, her accent making his name sound so different. “Not too bad.”

“You’re awfully rude.”

And she grinned, actually grinned at that insult. “I know, thank you.”

He rolled his eyes, the both of them falling into a silence for a few seconds before he asked, “Why did you want to steal your father’s car?”

She sighed, “You’re going to call me stupid.”

“Maybe.”

“Hey!” she slammed a hand into his shoulder. “You’re supposed to promise that you won’t call me stupid.”

“But I might,” he answered with a grin.

She muttered something under her breath he didn’t understand before she admitted, “I don’t want my father to race and hurt himself, so I wanted to steal the car.”

She couldn’t be more than ten and yet he asked, “Can you drive?”

“No, what for?”

He laughed, the sound surprising him. He recovered quickly. “Your father is a good driver, he won’t hurt himself.”

“The best driver,” she corrected him. Again. “But my god father told me no one is eternal, even legends.”

Rowan frowned. He never thought about the possibility of his father being hurt or worse in a competition. In the back of his mind he knew it could happen, and yet he swore his father was too good to let anything happen to him.

“Maybe he is not eternal, but the end doesn’t have to be soon,” Rowan answered.

She looked up at him with hopeful eyes, “Yeah?”

Rowan nodded. She seemed to relax, and Rowan was surprised he didn’t notice she was tense before. She was easy going with her jokes, but she’d been hiding something.

“Will you help me steal the car?”

“No.”

“Why?” she shot back, her arms crossed.

“I thought we already agreed that it was useless since nothing is going to happen to your father?”

“Yeah,” she answered with a smile. “But stealing the car could be fun.”

He narrowed his eyes at her, “You played nice only so I would help you, didn’t you?”

She didn’t wince, which was what he would have done if he was caught in his lies. She only arched an eyebrow, “Did it work?”

“Menace.”

“Buzzard.” She shot back, fire in her eyes. If they let women compete in F1, he always knew this one would be the end of every single driver in the world.

“So?” She asked, standing up.

“If we get in trouble,” he said in a warning tone. “I’ll put the blame on you.”

—-

In the end, Aelin had barely sat in the small car before someone screamed at her to stop, altering everyone of what they were doing.

Rowan was holding the car for her, so he looked as guilty as she did.

His father, who had been talking with his teammate and strategists by the screens at the left side of the room, turned to see what happened and his eyes widened when he realized it was his son who was in trouble.

Rhoe Galathynius also seemed to know that his daughter was in trouble, he ran for them. Rowan let go of the car, pocketing his hands as if it’d make him look less guilty.

“Aelin!” Galathynius had the same accent as Aelin, though it was a lot less lovely in his mouth. Aelin glared at him, and if looks could kill, he would be dead already, before her features entirely relaxed to make her look like an angel.

Her full lips were slightly parted, eyebrows furrowed and her eyes wide. Wait- Why we’re her eyes filling with tears?

Rhoe Galathynius arrived by their sides and Aelin looked at him, “Papà…”

She was pretending to cry. She was playing innocents and it worked.

He sighed and grabbed her under the shoulders to lift her in her arms. They were talking in a language he didn’t know. Probably Spanish, as the Galathynius Family came from Spain.

“C’est quoi ce bordel, Rowan?” His father hissed beside him. What the fuck, Rowan?

“Papa,” he started. He had no idea what story Aelin was telling her father, so why should he take the blame for her idea? “Je suis désolé.” I am sorry.

“Ça n’explique pas ce que tu étais entrain de faire.” It doesn’t explain what you were doing.

“It’s fine, Julien,” Rhoe said, coddling a teary Aelin into his arms. A witch. She was no more than a witch. “Your boy was protecting my daughter.”

His father raised a silver eyebrow at him, “He was?”

Aelin nodded and her voice was teary when she said, “I wanted to dry mi papà’s car but Rowan said no. I didn’t listen and he was keeping the car still so I wouldn’t be hurt.”

Why had she lied for him?

She sniffed, “I’m sorry. I want no trouble.”

His father softened beside him, placing a hand on Rowan’s shoulder and squeezing lightly. Rowan was surprised at this physical contact, his father was not the kind of man who enjoyed touching people. Even his own son. Rowan’s chest puffed as pride filled his veins. “It’s okay. I’m glad you weren’t hurt. But this is very dangerous.”

She nodded and spoke to her papà a little more before he kissed her forehead and placed her feet back on the floor. He left with something that he supposed meant goodbye and went back to his work, alongside with his father.

“Why?” He asked the moment their father weren’t in earshot anymore.

She crossed her arms, “A thank you would be appreciated.”

“Who taught you to speak like that, you’re like… ten.”

“I read a lot.”

He rolled his eyes. “Thank you. Now why did you lie?”

She shrugged, “You’re my friend now.”

“We aren’t friends.”

“Of course we are!” She smiled at him and raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to deny. Was it worth it? She didn’t strike him as someone who would accept a no.

So… he supposed he was her friend now. Only because he was forced to.

“Good!” She said, none of her tears and sadness remaining. Had she thought about being an actress? He was sure she would be very good at it. “Now, I’m hungry. Do you know where I can find chocolate?”

•••

Rowan tore himself out of his thoughts, eyes staring between the two cars. His own car had just been parked after his training and Lorcan had trained this morning, so until tomorrow these two lovely machines were allowed to rest.

He didn’t know why this memory came up when he started at this tiny place between the two cars. He hadn’t thought about Aelin Galathynius in years now, actually he was very good at avoiding any thought that reminded him of her.

On the few occasions he had to see her, generally during Spain’s Grand Prix, he had months before to ready himself to see her again.

But when he woke up this morning, it hadn’t been in his plans to see her again. Yet, she was there.

“You need to slow down on the third turn,” Emrys, his team’s strategist, told him.

“I can pull it.”

He looked doubtful, cocking his head to the side. “It’s better to lose a second per lap than to send your car into the wall and not finish the race at all.”

“I can pull it,” Rowan repeated, sure of himself.

Emrys turned off his tablet and said, “You skid seven times out of eight laps today.”

“I still have tomorrow to train before qualification. It will be fine.”

The older man sighed, rolling his eyes. He mumbled something along the line of “What am I being paid for?” and left. Rowan wasn’t in the mood to discuss what he should do and shouldn’t. Not today.

There was a reason Rowan had never won a Spanish Grand Prix in the last six years. If she brought her bad luck and curses with her, he was going to strangle her.

Someone wrapped an arm around his shoulders, and he was not surprised to see Fenrys with his million dollars grin. Literally.

Out of every driver, Fenrys was the one who made the most front pages cover, and it was as much for his driving talents that it was for his looks women and men went crazy for.

Growing up, Rowan had found a small, closed group of friends. The five of them met either because of their parents knew each other or because they were all loved the same thing: racing.

It was rare to make friends in this field, his own history was a perfect example of it. Friendship turned into rivalry and hatred faster than they car raced. And they destroyed everything along the way.

Fenrys drove for Mercedes, their paddock close to Red Bull’s, Rowan’s team. “You were slow on that track, pretty boy.”

Rowan rolled his eyes and pushed Fenrys away. He shouldn’t be in his team’s paddock, maybe the two of them were friendly but he wasn’t sure the head of his team would enjoy having a rival in their space. “Wait until I beat your ass on Saturday and Sunday.”

The blonde man laughed, “You’ll pull a P3 and I’ll laugh.”

Saturday was the qualification, the race that determined in which position Rowan would start the real race on Sunday, and if the bastard in front of him thought he would open the season in third place… He was wrong.

Last year, Rowan won the championship. He had been close to finishing second, but he won. This year, Rowan wasn’t going to sweat in anxiety until the last second. He would know weeks in advance that he won that goddamn championship.

And if winning also humiliated an Ashryver, it was just icing on the cake.

His distaste didn’t stop at Aelin and Rhoe, he hated them all. Just some more than others.

“We need to get drunk tonight.”

Rowan glared at his friend, this gesture answer enough. Fenrys rolled his eyes, but he followed Rowan outside. “Come on,” he pressed. “It’s opening week. We need to get drunk and get laid.”

“How you never caught a STD is beyond me.”

A bark of laughter came from behind them, indicating them that new people were joining them. Connall, Vaughan and Lorcan were there. Connall, Fenrys’ twin and the dark to his light, was the one laughing.

“Brother! Do not indulge these peasants when they make fun of me.”

“Peasants?” This had the merit of tipping up the corner of Rowan’s lips.

“That is exactly what you are, Whitethorn,” he answered, crossing his arms to appear more threatening. “I don’t care how many millions you have to your name, you’re a peasant.”

He looked up to the sky, silently asking the Gods what he did to end with a friend such as Fenrys.

“Why were we talking about Fenrys’ sexual health?”

“Please, don’t,” Connall looked disgusted.

“I want us to go out tonight, but Rowan is boring and doesn’t want to go out.”

He flipped him off, to which Fenrys answered by blowing him a kiss.

“I’m up to go out,” Lorcan answered, hands pocketed in his jeans. That surprised Rowan, and his friend just added, “Don’t look at me that way, there’s nothing else to do before the races start.”

“Agreed,” Vaughan added, tying his long black hair into a ponytail.

Connall was looking at him with more intensity that Rowan enjoyed noticing. The crush his friend had on their other friend was painfully obvious to anyone but Connall and Vaughan.

Rowan looked away; it was none of his business.

Connall nodded, “Yeah, sure. Could be fun.” It was hard to not roll his eyes. Again, it was obvious why Connall agreed.

Rowan sighed, he could stay alone at the hotel, it was what he planned on doing anyway. But… It could help him think of other things. “Yeah, let’s go.”

Fenrys, acting as an over-excited kid jumped on himself and clapped in his hands. Lorcan groaned, “You are so annoying.”

“And I’m your best friend,” the blonde winked.

“I hardly consider you a friend, speedy,” the tall man answered. Fenrys was used to this, and in Lorcan’s words, if he considered you a friend, it was a miracle. He had an even more closed circle than Rowan, which was impressive and what brought them together.

“No way,” Fenrys breathed.

Lorcan rolled his eyes, “Yes way, I wouldn’t waste so many hours of my life with you if I didn’t consider you a friend.”

Fenrys looked at Lorcan with a huge grin on his face, “Thanks, but it’s not what I was talking about.”

“What is it about then?” Vaughan asked.

Fenrys tipped his chin behind Rowan’s shoulder, making everyone look in that direction. “Am I the only one seeing that?”

Rowan looked over his shoulder, not knowing what he would find but he should have known the Gods weren’t on his side.

Aelin Ashryver Galathynius was standing in front of the Ferrari paddock. She had gotten rid of that red, flashy coat. She wasn’t dressed appropriately for the weather anymore, only in a black, short tank top that cut right under her breasts.

Miles of her stomach’s tan skin was exposed for the whole world to see, large orange pants covering her hips and legs. And as always, Aelin Ashryver Galathynius made a show of herself. Her head was thrown back as she exhaled smoke, a cigarette between her fingers.

He didn’t know she smoked. Not that he knew anything about her life anymore, not for the last six years.

He didn’t miss her. Actually, he was his happiest when she was the furthest away from him and his family. Galathynius’ were more trouble than they were worth.

“Is that…” Vaughan started to ask.

“Aelin?” Connall finished.

“There is no way that bitch is back,” Lorcan muttered under his breath. “What the hell is that hair color?”

“Weren’t her hair blue the last time we saw her?” Connall asked.

“No, that was two years ago,” Vaughan answered. “Last year her hair was purple. I don’t think we have seen her blonde since…”

“It happened,” Conall finished again Vaughan’s thought.

“Stop this, guys,” Fenrys said before screaming, “Oy! Galathynius!”

She turned around, their eyes making contact. Her body stiffened, her weight shifting onto her left leg as she looked him up and down. Her eyes, the ones he had spent hours thinking about as a teenager, they held nothing but hatred now.

Good. Whatever she felt now, it was nothing compared to the way he loathed her. And this burning feeling… It just kept growing the more time she spent in his eyesight. She shouldn’t be there. It was his space, not hers.

Then her eyes fell onto Fenrys, and her face softened. It fucking softened, as if she was capable of anything other than mischief. She waved at him, and Fenrys left them to run at her side.

He wrapped his arms around her waist, and she did the same around his neck, Fenrys picked her up and twirled them in circles. He could hear her laugh from where he stood.

Her goddamn laugh.

If anyone around here had a camera, most front pages tomorrow would be pictures of the two of them. Shots of Aelin were worth thousands, and if she was with Fenrys? The media would adore it.

Fenrys and Aelin were catching up as if they were old friends, which he supposed they were. He had been the one introducing her to his friend years ago, most of them had been wary. She was younger than them, but Fenrys had welcomed her with open arms.

He took his distances after that day, but Rowan knew they stayed in contact. He had wanted to kill Fenrys for it when he saw Aelin’s name pop up on his friend’s phone five years ago, but Lorcan talked him out of it and got him drunk instead.

Drunk.

Exactly what he needed right now. If he kept looking at her, he would throw up. “I’m going back to my hotel, text me the address for tonight.”

He left right after that, not in the mood for any kind of small talk.

Once in front of his car, he slammed a hand into it, letting out his frustration. She shouldn’t be here, had sworn to stay away from this lifestyle.

He hated her; hated her for making him feel this way. As if the ground gave away under his feet. His hands supported him against his black car, breathing heavily. He had to find a way to send her away.

“You cannot let her affect you this way.”

“Fuck you, Lorcan,” he hissed.

“I am serious, Rowan,” he said, and when Rowan looked at his friend, he was appearing entirely normal, hands in his pockets and no emotions on his damn face. “You cannot let her affect you. One race in the season is fine, but she cannot unsettle you every time you lay eye on her.”

“She doesn’t unsettle me.”

“She doesn’t?”

“I just want to…” He groaned. “I want her to hurt half as much as I did.”

“Believe me, I wish she did,” he said. Out of all his friends, Lorcan was the one who knew the most about what had happened between them. “But you’re giving her too much power.”

He was right. While Aelin lived her life as if nothing had happened, he was the one losing his mind every time he saw her. It needed to stop. Rowan nodded, “We’ll meet tonight?”

Lorcan nodded, “Sure. Remember what I said.”

He rolled his eyes, “As if I could forget.”

••••••

@sheharahu // @morganofthewildfire // @thestoriesyoutell // @fromthelibraryofemilyj // @swankii-art-teacher // @itsforeverinnocent-blog // @becarefuloflove // @imnotsogoodatthis // @rowaelinismyotp // @a-court-of-milkandhoney // @feysand-loml // @elentiyawhitethorn // @live-the-fangirl-life // @story-scribbler // @loves-books // @fangirlprincess09 // @theysayitscrazy // @danibutterr // @endlessdaydream // @thegreyj // @gracie-rosee // @acreativelydifferentlove // @cretaceous-therapod // @louphantomdragon // @mis-lil-red // @backtobl4ck // @whoever-you-choose-to-love // @lemonade-coolattas // @mad-madeline-ace // @the-introverted-bibliophile // @leiawritesstories // @emilyoftheshadows // @anniesbookshelf // @rainbowcheetah512 // @astra-ad-mare // @story-scribbler // @superspiritfestival // @wordsafterhours // @rowaelinrambling // @black-daisy-water // @fireheart-violet // @livsdriverslicense // @charlizeed // @ladykreads // @mariamuses // @autumnbabylon // @justreadertings

#rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #rowaelin fanfiction #rowan x aelin #throne of glass fanfiction #aelin ashryver galathynius #rowan and aelin #wires

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memovia · 9 months

Note

It hurts, the boy thought.

It hurts.

It hurts!

He's been hurting for a few weeks now, ever since those black spots began appearing on his scales. Dan Heng wants to cry, but, that will only lead to bad things- last time he cried a few people came in and forced him drink some bitter liquid which tasted of roots and leaves. He tries to cry less now because of that.

Slowly, the little Vidyadhara tried to force his body into sitting up; however, nausea and dizziness swiftly over took him. Defeated, he let his head fell back against the mat with a small thud and resigned himself to his fate. Briefly, he wondering how long it will be before his next hatching rebirth; it shouldn't be long now judging by how much it hurt to just breath.

I hope I'm not here in my next life, he thought. I want to see what the outside looks like with my own eyes. And not through the foreign memories that haunted him almost every waking hour. However, he didn't mind it so much in his current state. Scalegorge Waterscape was truly a sight to behold. The way schools of transparent fish swam and played along invisible currents; weaving between broken columns and walls of the sunken palace that was once the home of his kin. Or, how purple and red coral grew along the roots of the arbor creating bridges and platforms for all those venturing into the depths. Oh, how he wished he could explore that place himself! Perhaps he can in his next life? But for now, he'll let these memories consume him; at least until the pain stops. - traincarsandstars (little bby dan heng to dan feng)

unprompted. | always accepting!

【 ◓ ☽ ― 】 It was like staring at a mirror, yet, not quite so. Though their faces were the same, their lives would not be. The frail little Vidyadhara huddled against the walls of his cell, wincing and struggling with the pain that had rendered his once vibrant scales dull. A serious infection, he observed, where the dirt dug deep beneath his scales, tainting its purity. The child was not looking well, if it were to get worse, he could die.

Pale, wavering ocean eyes settled upon his other self, his future life― with a gaze full of remorse and regret. Had he not done what he did, Dan Heng would not have to experience such a cruel fate in place of him. Something trembled in his chest at that thought, something of the same pain that the other felt, yet it was so different. Dan Feng closed his eyes, feeling the memories surge through the young Vidyadhara. They were...happy ones, memorable ones. Was he trying overpower the sickness with such thoughts?

A faint silhouette of Dan Feng knelt down in front of him, a fading hand rested upon the back of Dan Heng's head, pulling the child close into a tight, warm embrace. Shaky breaths broke from Imbibitor Lunae's lips, the tears welled up within his eyes at the sight of the other him threatened to leak. In this moment, they were one but, they were also two.

❝ Dan Heng. I am... sorry. ❞

He trembled at the words he uttered, his apology― a resignation of his own life that was given to Dan Heng. If only there was more he could do, if only there were things he did not do. If only...

These were just wistful thoughts that held no weight, for it was no longer his time, no longer his lotus blossom that was bound to bloom. It was Dan Heng's now. His flower would rise from the mud anew, fresh and untarnished.

❝ In this life, you will go on your own path. You will flourish as your own person and you will be free. You will meet people who cherish you greatly and you will meet people that still... have you in their hearts. ❞

But most importantly, be you. Be the you that is true to yourself. Be the you that rides the current of waves that fate brings you. Be the you that just simply believes. You, you are meant to be something extraordinary, my dear little dragon.

A simple tear rolled down his cheek as he held the child tighter, lips gracing into a bittersweet smile, hoping that he could feel his waning touch, his fading embrace.

And as the High Elder of the past perished into nothingness, a small lotus blossom fell onto Dan Heng's lap. A reminder of what he once was and will no longer be.

A love letter to my future self. | @traincarsandstars.

#:')#hello....#i am here.....#dan feng will give baby dan heng some hugs...#✧ imbibitor lunae― dan feng. | ic.#✧ imbibitor lunae― dan feng. | replied.

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chipped-chimera · 29 days

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Okay gimmie a sec I need to scream about being a Lesbian and my frustrations around it as someone signing on late.

Will I post this? Idk. But I'm about to blow a gasket.

I love being lesbian, okay. It's the first time it felt something has FIT properly. It's like when I got my Autism diagnosis - suddenly everything has context and MAKES SENSE. It feels like HOME.

But the more I learn about history in terms of wlw, and look around for representation and shit now that I FINALLY got where I am ... the more depressed I get. In a way, being bisexual was easier. It was easy to find rep. To feel rep. People were generally defensive of the label, stamped out Pan/Bi discourse most of the time and defended it loudly and with pride! I was happy in that label at the time, though it wasn't for me in the end. I felt safe. Validated. Accepted.

Lesbians? I feel like the label has been a battleground since the moment I stepped foot into it. I am seeing conversations swung around with all the grace and sharp edges of a mediaeval flail with the complete disregard of healthy boundaries others have, which again - knowing the HISTORY of how lesbianism has been interpreted over time is just ... it's misogyny in another coat. Whether internalised or intentional it is still here and it is still damaging. I sit here wondering why it's okay to have gay exclusive or trans exclusive or bi exclusive spaces but if a Lesbian tries to create one it is absolutely BATTERED for being 'exclusionary'. I mean, I know why it's like this. It's the fucking TERFs. The TERFs poisoned the water. So now a lot of lesbians feel compelled to open spaces to all as an assurance to keep them out, and in turn that is isolating. I desperately search around for people to relate to, to help navigate this world I've come into so late: I am lost, I need help, I am so isolated and alone.

And I can't find anything. Or its few and far between. I have to sift through walls and walls of experiences that while valid, are not mine. They don't help. I see lesbians getting attacked for expressing their pain over things like this, that lesbian bars are on the decline. I see headlines about a women exclusive bar as part of a temporary art exhibition being taken to court in my country by some man who filed for discrimination. I read the history of Lesbians in the American West, poorly documented as it is, that 'Lesbians had it better' than gay men because 'romantic friendships' were normalised between women - because no one believed a relationship could be 'real' unless a man was involved. Kissing and sleeping with your female friend was fine - you were just expected to 'grow up' and eventually conform to the patriarchal society structure of getting married and having children. Only men could become permanent 'confirmed bachelors'. The top Reddit related to lesbians is for porn. That objectification even invades the lesbian tag here, on a site where NSFW content has nearly been completely expunged. I know it's shit like this, way back in the 2000s was the reason I just could not accept being lesbian. I couldn't see myself in it because it was so objectified and the thought of 'engaging' in it felt gross. And it feels disgusting now.

I grew up in an environment where Lesbianism was considered something people did for attention or clout, to become more attractive to men. I see posts even now of angry lesbians venting about being predated on by bisexual women, who only mention way later that their 'boyfriend is feeling left out :('. So while it's not as bad as it was, it's still there. It's just now no longer AS socially acceptable.

So I think I understand why it took me so long. I think my mind was trying to protect me from all of this. Because although being Lesbian feels like home, I feel even more invisible. Bisexuals always were joking about being 'invisible', but as a Lesbian I feel like I don't even exist. I'm on another plane of reality. If I try to stick my head out there and make myself visible I am shamed, ridiculed, second guessed, invalidated. I see it happening everywhere, every damn day.

I see it in the shitty wlw fic ratio in nearly every fandom on Ao3. I see it in Lesbian Day of Visibility being so quiet on Tumblr that I missed it. I see it in the comments section of a relationship columnist who also came to her own realisation about being lesbian late, being told she 'just needs to find the right man' to fuck her right, she's not a lesbian! Fucking a man is the solution - even though she was married and in a het relationship for years. Even as she fights back with studies showing how wide the gender orgasm gap is.

Everywhere I turn, I am told I am not valid. That my opinions don't matter. That my preferences aren't real because a man isn't involved in some way, and it's only for THEIR entertainment when it is acceptable. I see lesbian spaces filling with bisexuals and transgender women and little lesbian voices left. I hesitate to write the last sentence because I know of the ire I could invoke by simply stating that.

I love being Lesbian. It feels like home. But I'm in an empty house with cracked windows and if I make the slightest noise someone throws a bottle through the window at me. I feel unsafe, scared, belittled, isolated and so, so fucking alone. I don't feel proud. I almost wish I could go back to being Bisexual. But it doesn't work that way. I can't keep pretending I'm something I'm not anymore, that has taken up and destroyed so much of my life and health over the years. And the idea of going back, trying to bring men back into focus feels physically disgusting. I spent 10 years in a het relationship, I think I gave it a good go and it WASN'T FOR ME. And I shouldn't need to say I have dated or fucked a woman for that to be valid either.

I don't know where I'm going with this. All I know is I feel like shit and I don't even know where or how the find people to help me through this. And it fucking hurts.

#kerytalk #ventposting #lesbian #it is bad lonely isolated lesbian hours #oh also you bet my shite mood contributing to creative block so I can't remedy my problem #by contributing wlw art and fic #is eating me alive and making my mood worse

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jelazakazone · 2 years

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Liminal Spaces in Ep 5 of Heartstopper

Thanks again to my collaborators @barrows-teeth and @herewetumble for their contributions!! Find the master post here.

Where the previous four episodes have had many doorways and corridors, Nick’s journey has become more solid. He’s stepped over that threshold and many of the transitional moments in this episode take place either outside or deeper into buildings.

“Friend” starts with Charlie, Tao, Elle, and Isaac at Charlie’s for a sleepover. They are in Charlie’s room. Charlie and Isaac leave to get hot chocolate for everyone. Tao tells Elle that he is going to tell Charlie about Nick going on a date with Imogen, but as soon as Charlie gets back, Charlie asks everyone about him inviting Nick to his birthday thing. The moment is squashed and I think it’s also a safe space for Charlie — it wouldn’t have felt right for Tao to have revealed this information in Charlie’s bedroom.

Nick is outside, on the picnic benches in front of school, and he tries to cancel his date with Imogen, who is sitting right next to him, but HER DOG DIED. This area in front of school, where they hang out every day, continually reinforces heteronormative behaviors. Nick is constrained by peers’ expectations despite sitting on the periphery as well as not wanting to make Imogen’s day worse.

But, when Charlie asks him to come to his birthday thing in form, first very gently tapping Nick’s hand with his pinkie, Nick blurts out an enthusiastic Yes! That gets them a quick scolding from Mr Lange. The form room is a magical space for the two boys, maybe in part because it is where they first met and connected. They always seem to feel safe at their table despite being surrounded by other students. They act as though there is an invisible barrier around them, protecting them from curious eyes.

Outside, at the picnic benches, Harry throws something at Tao and Charlie as they pass by. Tao barges into Harry saying “Watch out dicknozzle” and for the first time, Nick is able to stand up for Charlie, unlike at the rugby match when he froze. Nick says “stop picking on people for no reason.” And by people, we know he means Charlie. I think Charlie’s presence as well as Nick’s feelings for Charlie are starting to break down the walls Nick’s peers have erected. Neither Nick nor Charlie is happy about the confrontation between the two boys. Charlie doesn’t want Nick to experience the bullying; Nick is sad to see the bullying happen to someone he cares so deeply for.

Nick scrolls through Instagram on his phone in his kitchen. He sees the selfie Imogen has posted of the two of them and then sees Elle and Charlie. Nick looks sad as he lets Nellie go greet Sarah Nelson. When Sarah walks through the doorway, she can tell from Nick’s non-response that something is bothering him. NIck tells her of his dilemma and stupefies Sarah when he gets to “and then her dog died.” Sarah pulls herself together, gets Nick to explain, and then says “you shouldn’t go out with someone just because you feel sorry for them.” In his kitchen, with his insightful mother, Nick is able to be more himself and realize just how much he cares for Charlie. In this context, there is no internal dilemma about which event to attend.

Beabadoobee’’s song “If You Want To” plays as Charlie waits for Nick to show up. Charlie has the look of someone who is really hoping their friend will show up, but also like he knows he’s going to be let down. He brightens up when Nick appears and exclaims “you came!” “Yeah, of course I did,” Nick says as he holds up a bag with Charlie’s present. Charlie briefly takes Nick's hand, guiding him into the bowling alley. I think the bowling alley is another magical space — kind of like the hotel for Harry’s party. The lighting is pink and purple and blue and helps transport them to a fantasy world.

As they walk towards the bowling lanes, Charlie points out Elle, Isaac, and Tao. This social environment is actually quite different from Harry’s party. Charlie’s friends are so supportive and accepting and even protective. They don’t mock Nick for being friends with Charlie, although Tao is not keen to try to get to know Nick at Charlie’s urging.

When they take a break between games, Tao follows Charlie to the bathroom to finally reveal the secret he’s been keeping under wraps. It feels significant that Tao can only reveal that Nick is planning to go on a date with Imogen in the bathroom at the bowling alley — it’s like a pocket universe within a pocket universe. Charlie says “but that can't be true, Nick’s my … friend.”

Nick pushes the bathroom door open slightly and overhears the conversation; the protective bubble of the bowling alley has burst. Outside expectations are reasserting themselves. Will Charlie keep the secret and lie to his best friend and is it even fair of Nick to ask Charlie to keep them secret? When Charlie emerges, Nick folds him into his arms and gives Charlie a big hug to try to reestablish it — the animated swirls of light around them reinforcing that perception. After the second round, Nick knows he needs to say something to Tao. After a brief exchange of meaningless pleasantries, Tao threatens Nick that if he is leading Charlie on, he needs to end it. Nick shakily agrees.

Then it’s time to play video games. Isaac plays the coin machine, Tao grabs Elle to go to the dance machine, and Nick and Charlie end up at the claw machine. They seem to be sheltered entirely from the outside world as well as the smaller venue of the bowling alley. It’s another pocket universe inside a pocket universe.

After failing to pick up a toy, Nick confesses that he heard Tao talking. Charlie, shocked, says “You actually went on a date with her?” “No, no,” Nick replies and explains how he felt pressured by his mates and then her dog died. This last bit amuses Charlie and he visibly relaxes. Then Nick says “I’m going to make it right with Imogen. I’m going to tell her I don’t like her like that.” Nick gets serious, but Charlie is in charge of the mood: “No being sad on my birthday!”

Charlie opens Nick’s present (a hand-decorated picture frame with a picture of the two of them and Nellie in the snow — Nick’s favorite day ever). Nick seems a little nervous, he’s babbling and he says “I really like you.” Charlie seems surprised, but confirms that he also really likes Nick. Then Charlie says, “I wanna kiss you so bad right now” and Nick agrees after a quick look around. “Ok.” Paper Mache World plays and they transport themselves into a universe of love. When the kiss ends, the spell is broken somewhat. Nick seems a little nervous as he looks around. Charlie is just giddy and has returned to being a teenage boy. He has pent up energy that needs to be let out on the basketball game.

Nick texts Imogen to say he can’t meet up and he can tell her everything tomorrow. He is unburdened and can enjoy the rest of his time with Charlie.

The penultimate scene is Nick and Imogen talking on a park bench outside. Although the open air has been a socially constrained space for Nick, he takes his first step towards being authentically himself with Imogen here. He explains about having buried his true self deep inside. Imogen says she understands.

And finally, in front of the school, Harry asks how the date went and Imogen says “we decided we were better off as friends,” as the song “I Want To Be With You” plays. Nick has an ally in his social space now!

#heartstopper #meta #doorways #deep dive #yes I will dissect this show into a zillion pieces of confetti

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