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a-solitary-marshmallow · 3 years

Text

Found You

Note: Hey! Damn, it's been a while since I posted. School finals and then not having a laptop for weeks will do that to you, apparently. Anyway, this is a oneshot I had lots of fun writing! Early in my werewolf Stan AU, someone on AO3 commented that it would be pretty cool if Stan managed to escape, and... well, you'll see. Thanks to the person who gave me this idea! Hope you all enjoy :)

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Stan was beginning to think that it was time to re-evaluate his life.

How many times did a guy have to chew his way out of something before coming to that conclusion? Twice, apparently. At least this time he’d had wolf fangs to back him up; the last time he’d chewed his way out of a sticky situation he hadn’t even had that.

He’d been so desperate for so long to just do what Pa had ordered. Make millions, prove to everyone that he wasn’t just a failure, be welcomed back home. But – it was never gonna be enough, was it? He may as well stop living in a fantasy world.

Fuck getting rich and being accepted back into his family, Stan just wanted to sleep in a bed. He wondered idly if this backwater town was hiring waiters or something. Didn’t need high school credentials or a valid ID to be a waiter, right? Sure the pay was shit and there was no hope of getting rich enough to make Pa happy, but he might be able to afford a cheap motel or something.

Not that Stan looked like prime employee material right now. When he’d first stumbled into this diner the waitress had looked like she was expecting him to either rob the place or drop down dead in front of her. Now it seemed like her suspicion had given way to pity because she placed a slice of pie in front of him alongside the coffee he’d ordered.

“It’s on the house.”

Hey, he’d take what he could get.

Stan dug into his pie, groaning happily at the warmth seeping through his mouth. The pleasure of eating actual food was slightly marred by the ache in his jaw. He winced and poked at his teeth with his tongue, checking out the damage. All things considered? Not bad. It probably wouldn’t take more than a few weeks to heal the worst of the damage. Hey, werewolf perks.

Luckily Stan had only needed to break the lock of Ford’s cage to escape – if he’d tried chewing through the bars he wasn’t sure he would have any teeth left at the end of it. He wasn’t sure what he would have done if there had been heavier security. He’d managed to break himself out before shifting into human form to unlatch the shed door, limping into the woods as quickly as he could while the night still hung heavy and quiet. He’d finally found his car and gunned it until he ended up in this dump, a town a few miles away. Sitting in this booth was the first time he’d rested since getting out of there and he was beginning to realize that everything hurt.

The whole ‘nearly-beaten-to-death’ thing wasn’t new to Stan, but that didn’t make in pleasant. From the pain in his chest he was pretty sure at least one rib was broken. Peering at his reflection in a spoon revealed that he was also covered in a myriad of ugly black, brown and yellow bruises like a patchwork blanket – a patchwork blanket with a mullet. Ugh. He put the spoon back to its original purpose of scooping pie, so he didn’t have to look at his reflection anymore.

Also, he couldn’t remember hurting his neck, but he must have somehow because a spot on the back of it was tender and swollen. When Stan reached up to feel it there was a little lump. Maybe he could get some ice for that to bring the swelling down? Nah, no use when his whole face looked like a discoloured turnip.

He wolfed down (haha, wolfed) the last of his sad little meal and felt around in his pockets for spare change. He could just finish his coffee and run, but that would make a pretty bad first impression and he was still hoping to get hired. On the other hand, this coffee was expensive as shit and Stan could probably buy himself a cheap burger or something with the cash tomorrow. Would it be better to make a good impression, stick around in this town and look for work, or steal now and search for another place?

He gulped down a mouthful of scalding, bitter coffee. It was way better than lapping lukewarm water from a metal bowl. Upgrades, people. Upgrades.

The door gave a stupidly cheerful jingle that Stan resented – partly on principle, and partly because who the fuck goes to a diner at three in the morning? (Except for Stan, because he was pathetic, and of course the waitress. At least she got paid to be there.) Stan took another sip of his drink and glanced across to get a look at the other sad sack who had just come in.

He choked.

Because holy shit that was Ford standing in the doorway, staring right back at him.

Ford’s glasses were askew and his hair mussed, like a man who had recently crawled out of bed. How the hell was he there? Stan had barely left an hour ago! He coughed and thumped at his chest to encourage his stupid lungs to start breathing again.

Ford’s eyes travelled down to some machine doohickey he was holding, and then back up to Stan. A frown flashed across his features.

“…there you are.”

Stan tried to speak but it came out as a wheeze. He cleared his throat and tried again.

“Uh – Ford. Didn’t – um – didn’t think I’d run into you here.”

Ford walked over and slid into the booth across from Stan, eyes scanning him. The intense gaze made Stan shrink back into his seat and cough uncomfortably. Well, at least Ford had no reason to believe that Stan was the werewolf he was missing?

“Are you some kind of – werewolf?” Ford demanded.

…shit.

Stan schooled his expression into a grin, trying to ignore the thundering of his heart pounding against his chest. “Werewolf? Psh, Ford, you know those don’t exist.”

Ford rolled his eyes at Stan’s forced nonchalance. “Stanley, please. I tagged you with a tracker, I know it’s you.”

Well, Ford kinda had him there.

“Wait, wait wait wait – you chipped me?” Stan hissed. Ford only nodded to himself with self-satisfaction. Stan cursed and reached up to scratch at that tiny lump in his neck, wincing as his fingers prodded tender flesh. Damn. He should have noticed earlier and clawed it out.

And now Ford was watching him with that calculating stare. Stan stared back defiantly, swallowing down the growl that bubbled up in his chest. He would not be out-stared, dammit.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Ford’s question broke the frigid silence. Stan blinked.

“You – uh, what?”

Ford pressed on. “Why didn’t you tell me what you were? Who you were? Hell, this entire mess could have been avoided if you’d just-”

“Oh, so it’s my fault, is it?” Stan couldn’t bite down a hint of a growl, and he took pleasure in seeing his brother’s eyes widen at the low rumble.

“…I didn’t say that.”

“May as well have.” Calm down, he had to calm down. He couldn’t afford to lose his cool in front of people. Of course, it would have been easier to control himself if he wasn’t exhausted and aching all over and starving and shivering and afraid and so so angry. The gritting of his teeth was already becoming awkward around sharp canines and the beginnings of a large, lolling tongue. He had to get out of there now.

“-back to my house.” Ford was continuing. How long had he been speaking for? “You could be a danger to yourself and others in this state.”

“I’m fine.” Stan stood up roughly. Thank god the waitress had ducked into the kitchen for something – she wouldn’t be monitoring to make sure he paid. And as an added bonus she also wouldn’t see the inhuman gleam of his irises. He yanked his hood over his head just to be sure and stalked for the door.

“Need I remind you that you attacked a man just yesterday?” Ford followed him relentlessly. Stan shouldered through the door and his dirty boots crunched in the thin layer of snow outside. Fat flakes spiraled down around him and stung his face as he stomped to his car, Ford in fast pursuit.

Ugh, the snow muffled the sounds around him so all he could hear were the sounds of two bodies, magnified and echoing – harsh breathing and the pounding of blood in his ears, crunching of footsteps behind him and the minute scrape of fabric brushing against itself in movement. The sensation of being followed made him shiver, made every muscle in his tired body tense.

It’s just Ford. Not some rando. He won’t hurt you, calm down. Focus on the moment, Ford is talking to you.

“No.” Stan snapped out. “No, I attacked his fucking dog. He’s the one who tried to bash my skull in.”

Footsteps behind him brought to mind a similar sound. Footsteps crunching in snow as the person followed him when he tried to crawl away. He could still see the burly figure looming over him. Red, red hair and red, red blood on his own pelt-

His breaths came quick and fast, gulps of frigid air. Ford was speaking to him loudly but the words all blurred together. A hand reached for him and Stan jerked away.

“No!”

His voice rumbled with a low growl and Stan cursed to himself, claws digging into his own bicep as he tried to force the Shift away. Now was not the time to have a breakdown. He was supposed to be in control, goddammit!

But the urge to Shift sat heavy in his chest, almost an ache. Shifting made him safe, because shifting made him dangerous, and nothing can hurt you if you hurt it first and every cell in his body was screaming for him to run away-

Stan didn’t realize he’d sunk to his knees until he felt the snow soaking through his pant legs. Burning, biting cold. Pain radiated from his arm, too – his claws had slid under the skin of his arm and sent pain stinging through him. But the pain was good, it kept him grounded.

“Stanley-”

“Shut. Up.” Stan growled out. Ford shut up.

Deep breath in, deep breath out, forcing his lungs to expand and contract. Slowly the Shift settled itself, claws shrinking into dirty nails and fangs becoming blunt and fur (when had the fur appeared?) receding into skin.

Stan ran his tongue over his teeth to ensure that they were wholly human once again. The fluctuation between states hadn’t helped their aching – his gums throbbed and he could taste blood.

“Oooookay.” He pulled in another deep breath and let it out slowly. “Alright. I’m good.”

Ugh, the snow was soaking through his pants. Stan pulled himself up and tried dusting the white powder off, but his body heat had already caused it to melt into the fabric. He cursed.

“…are you okay?” Ford finally said.

A glance at Ford’s face showed equal amounts of wariness and concern. Which, hey, Stan didn’t think that his brother would be concerned about him, so that was a nice surprise.

…but there was also the possibility that he was just worried Stan would go apeshit and tear him to pieces. That would make more sense.

“You’re fine, I’m not dangerous or anything unless I wanna be.” Stan waved a hand. “Just my Shifting acting up. Funnily enough, it’s hard to not slip into danger mode when you’ve been locked in a cage for hours on end! Funny how that happens, huh?”

Ford had the grace to look a little guilty. He reached to take Stan’s arm, then hesitated before his fingers made contact. “…look. Can I at least take you home? You shouldn’t be driving in this state.”

Stan had to suppress a laugh. Sure, take the homeless man home. That had to be some kind of paradox, right? He spat a glob of blood into the snow to clear his throat before responding. “No need, I’m fine.”

Ford was staring at him in horror now. Stan blinked.

“…what?”

“Was that blood?”

“Er. Yeah. Why?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were badly injured? You could have internal bleeding!” Ford shrilled, making Stan take a step back and laugh nervously.

“Seriously, I’m fine, I just broke a couple teeth on the-”

“You broke a couple -” Ford spluttered. “I’m taking you to the hospital right now.”

“I don’t need to go to the-”

“We are going to the hospital now!”

“Ford-”

“Hospital. Now.”

…you know what? Stan’s day couldn’t get any weirder. He shrugged.

Ford grabbed him by the arm and started towing him through the car park, Stan trying not to limp as he followed. From Ford’s worried cluck he didn’t do a very good job.

“Aren’t you gonna, like, try to study me or whatever?” Stan managed as he was pushed into a car. Ford dropped into the driver’s seat.

“Of course I am, I’ve never seen a werewolf before, but that will be after I know my brother isn’t dying!”

“…fair enough. Can I pick the music?”

“No.”

#werewolf!Stan #werewolf stan au #my writing #fic #oneshot #au of an au

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fandom-necromancer · 4 years

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One push too many

This was prompted by a lovely anon! I enjoyed writing this although it is quite heavy. Take caution but keep in mind all my stories end happy!

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Reed900 (Warning: Misunderstanding, mental abuse, alcohol abuse, desription of suicide attempt (will be prevented)) [alternate ending]

Gavin. Hated. Everything. That was nothing new, it was a well-known fact for everyone that knew him. Only that usually Gavin hated everything equally and made a few exceptions with his cat or one day of the week or maybe even one person in his nearest circle. Lately that changed. There were some things he hated more than others, that he utmost despised. One of them being his newest partner, an android. RK900. Nines. And he took everything he had liked in his life away from him.

Gavin had liked his work. But how should he enjoy his job if he had to do it next to a phcking tin-can that watched and commented his every move, scanned him every few seconds and knew things about him no one else had ever found out. ‘Oh, seems the murderer was the victim’s brother, killing him for his riches. Curious that you never had that idea with Elijah.’ ‘Come on, Detective, don’t pout like that. With a family like yours I thought you were used to having the lowest IQ in the room.’ ‘I think I know how your brother must have felt. Pulling you along all the time. Come on, get your head in the game.’ ‘Sometimes I ask myself how you made it detective in the first place.’ ‘Wow, someone seems to be a particular asshole today.’ ‘What did I do to get you as my partner…’

Gavin had long given up on retorting something clever. The android would just twist it around again and add something even worse. And Gavin really didn’t need to. In the first time since he left school, he bowed his head and let the tin-can push him down. He tried to ignore it, but the words hit him time and time again, wounding him in a spot that never really healed. Yes, his brother was a genius. Yes, he was an idiot compared to that. Yes, his family had treated him differently to his brother. Well, Gavin had made a living despite all that, hadn’t he? He had come out a nearly decent human being that did good or at least convinced himself he changed a few lives and maybe for the better. Hearing what the android told him with a tone that Gavin had suspected to be friendly teasing at the beginning, just made him feel like he was back in that house. Back with the people who loved him but loved his brother more. He didn’t need that. He didn’t want that.

Sometimes he still lashed out. Sometimes, when he couldn’t bear it any longer, he started screaming. Or he pushed his partner against a wall, threatening him. Or he let his fist connect with something sensitive. But it didn’t help; it didn’t change anything. No, it made things worse. When he did it inside the precinct there would be all eyes on him, how he once again abused the innocent new guy. An android. And when Gavin did it outside, Nines would just report him to Fowler or tell what happened to any concerned face. And that had mostly been Tina, Chris and Connor. New never took long to spread from them. Gavin would be the anti-android asshole again, people would talk behind his back how he never even tried to change, how he shouted at the poor RK900. He had always been an aggressive man, they would say. And hadn’t he threatened Connor once with a gun? How long would it take until the next incident? And who would stop him when he tried to kill Nines?

Gavin would never do that. He hated the guy to the bone, wished he could actually punch him until the metal heap was unrecognisable. But he would never kill a man that had never lifted a hand against him, despite what words Nines threw at him.

Over time, his co-workers distanced themselves even more from Gavin. Not that he cared, he had never been close with them anyways. But Tina and Chris seemed to have switched sides. And that hurt deep down. Seeing his friends ignore him or excuse themselves whenever he was near and later meeting them in the breakroom chatting with the android that had been his downfall from the very beginning.

‘Has he screamed at you again?’ Gavin froze in his steps. He had been about to enter the breakroom to get a coffee before checking on evidence. But now he stopped as he heard Tina’s voice from the inside. ‘Yes.’ Nines. That asshole actually dared to sound desperate. ‘Don’t worry. That’s just Gavin.’ Chris chuckled. ‘He shouts and punches and threatens, but he won’t ever do anything to you. And if he does, then we’ll have your back.’ ‘He got quieter, but there are still times when he explodes at me.’ Tina sighed. ‘Then you’ll just have to hold out a little longer. Just do what you do now, and he’ll eat out of your hand in no time.’ Gavin pressed against the wall and risked a peak into the break room, not believing what he had just heard. How could Tina ever betray him like that? How could she tell Nines to continue hitting him where it hurt most? She had been his friend! Did she finally have enough of him too and just wished for Nines to subdue him? He would never-

He stomped away angrily, briefly crossing eyes with Nines. Tina had her hand on his and both her and Chris had been focussed on the android. Nines had been the only one that saw him. But without doubt he would use that information to his advantage, manipulating his former friends further and pitting them against him.

Gavin swallowed. The problem was that Nines would and could subdue him if he continued like that. In fact, he already was. He hadn’t spoken up to him since forever, only showing his teeth when he couldn’t endure it any longer. Nines had robbed him of everything good in his life and Gavin knew he had to get out of this immediately. But how could he get away from the android quick and effectively? Gavin had sat down on his desk, chewing on a pen, as his gaze shifted towards Fowler’s office. It was his only option, Gavin knew it, and still he tried to find another way for the rest of his shift. Even as it ended, Gavin continued to sit there, waiting. At some point Nines had sat down opposite of him and by now, the android was watching him closely. Gavin knew what he had to do, and waiting didn’t help. So, he finally switched off his computer and walked off to the Captain’s office.

‘Gavin, what are you doing here so late?’, Fowler asked. ‘Don’t you have a cat waiting for you at home?’ The man smiled at him warmly and it hurt Gavin to mimic it. So, he just looked down, unclipped his badge from his belt and then got lost of the utility belt completely, putting both down on Fowler’s desk. ‘What’s that supposed to be?’, Fowler asked, frowning at the Detective. ‘I quit.’ ‘Reed? Everything alright? I thought you liked it here. You are one of my best men!’ Gavin kept silent. ‘Gavin. Son, any reason why you want to quit? Anything I should know of? You know, what you tell me stays with me.’ He shook his head. ‘No reason.’ ‘Oh, stop bullshitting me!’ ‘Captain Fowler, I would like to resign my post. I want to quit. Last time I checked I was allowed to do that.’ ‘Jesus Christ, yes! Yes, you are allowed. Just…’ He stood up. ‘I won’t sign the papers today. If you want to come back, I’ll give you till the weekend. Gavin. Please take care of yourself.’

Gavin, in fact, did not take care of himself. He had hastily taken his belongings from his desk and put them into a box, before marching out of the precinct and racing home. He hated how Nines had stood up half-way, thinking about stopping him. No. Not this time. The asshole would not have his grasp on him now. Not anymore.

As he got home, he pushed the box in a corner and kicked off his shoes, walking straight to the fridge and taking out the hard liquor. His cat greeted him by rubbing against his legs while he poured himself a glass. Gavin looked down on the orange tabby, then on the glass, downed it and decided that he wouldn’t need a glass today. He put the entire bottle on the table and pulled out a can of wet cat food, too. Only then he sat down and took another gulp from the bottle. It burned and he coughed as tears came to his eyes from too much booze in too little time. ‘Phck this asshole!’, he shouted through the house, startling the cat. Gavin held onto the neck of the bottle as if it could anchor himself on the table. ‘This damn android waltzes in, makes me his servant, calls me names and offends me, steals my friends and now made me quit my job! Now I have no job, no idea what to do, an ass full of debt and no clue how to get out of this. I…’ He got quiet, drinking more. He cried, wiped away his tears and cried again. He drank more.

As the bottle was half emptied, he had the brilliant idea to call his brother. They may not have separated on good terms, but Eli was still his brother, wasn’t he? And getting to learn Gavin was just the phck up everyone had suspected him to be, had to be something, right? Maybe he could help. He called him and anxiously counted the rings. It didn’t take him much, before the call was declined. Gavin tried again. And again. But his brother constantly clicked him away. Gavin nursed the bottle a bit more. He was truly alone. He had lost everything that he had worked for, everything he had aspired to be. And it wouldn’t get any better.

The bottle was completely empty, as he had made a decision. He went to his bedroom and retrieved some paper together with the gun he had stored away in the nightstand. He came back to the table, laid the gun on it and clicked the pen to begin writing. What should he write? What was important?

Please don’t give my cat to a shelter. He was surprised that was the only thing he was concerned about: His asshole cat that wasn’t even really his. She had just one day turned up in his garden and convinced Gavin to feed her. He thought really, really hard. He should have something besides his cat that needed settling before he could go. But nothing came to his mind as he stared at the blank page, far too big for just one sentence. Once again, he had been too ambitious. Don’t give her to Nines! He added then with a sigh and underlined the “Don’t” with far too much force for his pen that splattered a few ink-drops next to the angry line. He set the paper and pen aside and eyed the gun before taking it in his hand. It was heavy and cold, seeming to weigh so much more than it should.

Suddenly, the doorbell ripped him from his thoughts. ‘Go away!’, he shouted and hated how weak it sounded. ‘Now’s really not the time!’ Gavin watched the door, but it kept silent. He nodded to himself and concentrated back at the task at hand. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before lifting- There was a crashing sound as if a window was smashed. Then, in a flurry of motion, something heavy hit him and made him topple over in his chair. The impact with the ground made him loose hold on the gun and only then did he look up. With a groan he closed his eyes again and was surprised he didn’t throw up.

‘You really are a nuisance, aren’t you?’, he groaned, his head pounding. ‘Says the man who tried to kill himself. Oh, how he hated that voice. ‘Yeah and whose fault is that?’, Gavin spat. ‘Just go away and let me get on with it, asshole!’ ‘I won’t. You are right, this is my fault, so I have the responsibility of setting things right!’

Gavin opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling past Nines, letting the light bulb from the kitchen lamp burn in his eyes. Nines slapped his cheek, causing Gavin to refocus. ‘We will sit down at that table and you will listen to me, okay?’ ‘Fine’, Gavin grumbled, annoyed and tired. The android pulled him up and the sudden movement made Gavin’s stomach turn. The world stopped tilting as he finally sat on his chair, the android sitting down next to him. ‘I don’t have a social module.’ Gavin looked at him through half-lidded eyes. ‘I don’t give a phck.’ ‘I don’t know how to communicate the right way. When I was partnered up with you, Connor told me you liked friendly bickering. So I tried to do the same.’ ‘Uh-huh…’ Gavin was clawing at the table trying not to sag from his chair. ‘When you got more and more quiet, I thought I was on the right path and went on with it. It was never my intention to hurt.’ Gavin laughed loudly. ‘Yeah, don’t phck with me that way. Even a microwave would have realised it did things wrong.’ ‘Then it seems I’m dumber than a household device.’ ‘The first true sentence from you today.’ Nines sighed. ‘Listen Gavin, I… You never told me to stop. It wasn’t your job to do so and I guess I should have told you my… shortfalls. But as you quit your job today, I realised something was deeply wrong. Connor told me the world could end and you would still come to work. I… I’m glad I followed you. And I’m sorry I never noticed how much I made you suffer. Can you forgive me?’

Gavin stared at the android, swaying lightly form side to side. ‘No.’ Nines nodded, looking down on his hands. ‘I… understand. Just please don’t kill yourself. I will do anything you wish for once you promised me that.’ ‘No, you don’t understand’, Gavin slurred, slapping his hand on the paper and crumbling it in his hand. ‘I can’t forgive you for it. But you can make it up to me. You will let me go back to the police. You will explain everything to Tina and Chris. I want their apology for ghosting me because you told them lies. And most importantly: You will never say the name Elijah Kamski again. You won’t ever refer to my family. You won’t ever treat me as something beneath you again.’ He looked at the android sharply, who nodded eagerly but with enough guilt in his face to look serious. Gavin leaned back.

‘And for phck’s sake, you will learn what “friendly bickering” means!’

[>alternate ending]

#detroit become human #dbh #Reed900 #RK900 #Gavin Reed #Tina and Chris are in front of the door ready to hug Gavin #Nines takes the pistol with him #They get together over time #I think I'll soon need some more happy stories XD

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theravencawsatmidnight · 4 years

Text

Part 3.

Summary. Iwazuimi thinks up an awful idea to help Kentarou get his anger out.

Warnings. Vomit, chipped tooth, blood. Sad boi Kentarou

Kentarou walked with you still in his grip till you were off school grounds. The cold air stung your legs and all you wanted to do was lay down.. and check what that cracking noise was. Kentarou dropped his grip on you and your hand went straight to your mouth to rub at your cheek in little circles, fuck it hurt..

After a minute you decided to just reach in and see if anything was broken, your jaw ached from having to open up so wide but you ignored it. Kentarou watched you with a tilted head and twitching eyebrow. Oh please, he thought. As if you broke any..-

When he watched you pull out a chipped tooth his fingers reached out to you for a minute making the veins in his hands dance around against his skin. The wince your body did when you pulled it out sent a chill up his spine. Oh shit, oh fuck. Why. Dammit. The look you gave him was fake, he knew it. He could see it in your eyes you wanted to break down right there.

You waved your other hand around assuring him it was fine, unsure if you should talk or not. You needed to get home though, and fast.. Kentarou watched you limp for a few steps till you almost fell. He caught you and pulled your arm over his shoulders and grabbed your side with his free one helping you steady.

“Just tell me where your damn house is” was all he said too you.

You felt relieved slightly but.. everything still hurt. You guided Kentarou to your home and you had to make up some story for your parents when they saw the state you were in; swollen cheeks, ripped knee high and holding your stomach. You told them some thug tried to rob you and Kentarou saved you. They believed you and before they could thank him he already left.

•••

Kentarou was already down the street far away from you, hurting you. God damn it this was not helping his anger. If anything it made it worse. He pulled his phone from his pocket dialing , when Iwazuimi answered he punched a brick wall. “This isint working. I chipped her god damn tooth .” He growled leaning into the cold hard building staring at his now bloody knuckles watching the blood trickle down the lines in his fingers dripping down to his wrist slithering to his elbow. “I was so angry ..seeing her in those fucking thigh highs. I know everyone was looking at her” he rolled facing the brick wall running his nails along it waiting for Iwazuimi to say something.

Iwazuimi was quiet while his friend unloaded on him. Yeah, this was a awful idea why did he come up with this Iwa-Kun you dunce. They would be in real hot water if you told anyone but you really seemed like you wouldint do that. “Kentarou, i need to tell you something about her.” There was a long pause on both ends if you dont count Kentarous endless heavy huffing and puffing. After a long thinking session Iwa-Kun spoke up .

Kentarou grabbed his side, he felt very hot all of a sudden, his head heavy and his throat felt like it had a heavy piece of food in it. He heaved a few times trying to steady his breathing but it was no use. He was down on his knees staring at the vomit on the ground in front of him , his phone on his lap. He coughed a few times and leaned forward grabbing his phone , his free arm above his head his fingers in his buzz cut. He felt like total shit and now his stomach was aching hard from rejecting his lunch. A few tears fell from his eyes down his cheeks . “She likes watching.. me play..”

Iwazuimi had to go fetch Kentarou himself because he really could not get home himself right now. Seeing his friend in such a state. The Mad Dog as Oikawa called him, was on his knees hunched over his own vomit crying into the cold cement unable to pull himself together. The fact that you enjoyed watching him play made him sick to his stomach. You enjoyed someone as mean as him, as pushy.. as abusive as him. You were not a chew toy. You were a gift . A god damn gift.

Iwazuimi pulled his friend up handing him some water that he sipped and spit back out to freshen his mouth for the time being. He leaned on the third year all the way home not saying anything at all. He wasint gonna talk and Iwazuimi was not going to force him. The whole walk home he tried to think about what to do to make this up to you .. if he even could.

Iwazuimi took the time to reflect on this whole event that he caused. You were so innocent and shy, not a bruise to be seen on your body, should he tell Kentarou that youve been wanting to approach him? Maybe. But now was not the right time, and it might mean more if you say it yourself. He got Kentarou home safe and sound and Iwazuimi went home himself. Both boys thought long and hard about this whole situation.

•

The next day you were in so much pain all over; your stomach was on fire and you had a bruise on your left knee and right cheek. You wanted to wear thigh highs but it was probably not a good idea.. You did though use make up to cover up your purple cheek. You fixed your hair and left for school , heart beating fast. The whole night you were awake thinking about what happened. The look he had on his face when he saw you stumble along looked pained and shocked as of he was thinking “i caused that.” Was he okay? Was he sad…

Kentarou avoided you all day; dodging you whenever he saw you or giving you an angry look whenever you locked eyes. You were limping and everytime you tried to walk towards him he just took off in the other direction blending in with the crowd of other teens. He was no where to be found at lunch either, not at his usual spot with his team eating a melon bun. He would be at practice though. And you were gonna ask him if he was okay.

After school you walked slowly towards the gym holding your stomach rubbing tbe giant bruise you had on it. You were in so much pain but you had to ignore it for now. You were almost there.

When you did arrive Oikawa was coming up behind you passing you with a smile on his face and a slightly purple nose. He dipped down to your height grinning at you. “Y/n chan! How can i help you?”

“Kawa.. is..” god you needed to sit down.. “Kentarou here..”

Oikawa tilted his head looking over his shoulder raising his voice. “Iwa-kuuuuun!!!!”

“Dont call me that!!!!!!!” He yelled from the gym.

“ is Mad Dog -Chan in there?”

“He went home sick!!!”

Oikawa looked back at you and rubbed your head. “He went home sick y/n chan.”

“O..ok..” you swayed.

“Hes a little mean though, id pick another favorite player , im available.” He smiled at you.

You fainted in his arms and Oikawa almost didint catch you. He cursed yelling into the gym and everyone ran out , Iwazuimi picked you up in his arms and the Coach told him to bring you to the infirmary.

•

You woke up to see Iwazuimi leaning iver the bed with his hands in his hair . You reached out touching his arm and within a second he looked up sighing with relief. He grabbed your hand with both of his apologizing over and over.

“Uhm. .. Iwa..Kun..”

“Y/n i am so..-“

“Is .. he really sick..”

“He threw up his lunch , he was eating too fast but…..”

“Iwa..?”

Iwazuimi told you about last night, he left out Kentarou crying but he told you about him vomiting and needing him to help the poor guy home.

“Will.. will he be okay for the game?”

“Yeah. I think so.”

“He avoided me all day..”

“I know y/n. He mostly hung around with me today.”

“I dont.. regret any of this.”

Iwazuimi lowered his head into his arms, still holding your hand. “You think you can change him”

“I can try.”

“Hes a good person.. its just stuck under his tough exterior.”

You rubbed his hand with your thumb. “I know, ill find it”

•

Your parents had come to pick you up and you were given heavy medicine and ordered to lay in bed all day and tomorrow. The game was the day after tomorrow and you prayed you would be okay to go. You would not be at school tomorrow either…

Slowly you pulled your phone from the night stand opening it up to see no messages. Should you..? You opened up your contacts staring at his name for a long few minutes, you were shaking a little. It was just a text. Thats all. Its not like you would see him soon anyway. You took in a deep sigh sending out a text.

🎾i wont be at school tomorrow. But i will see you at the game, i hope your doing okay.

Kentarou was in bed staring at the celing. Watching you limp around the damn school broke his heart into tiny pieces. The fact that he caused such pain to you, someone that enjoyed watching him play. Someone who always had a smile on their face when they asked how his day was… He rolled over squeezing his pillow in disgust. He hated himself, who he was, what he put you through. His phone buzzed and it was Iwazuimi texting him telling him what happened today which broke him even more. God damn it, and Oikawa of all people . He didint reply but he did get another text, from you this time.

His body sunk down and felt very heavy, after everything he put you though, giving you stupid rules, ripping your thigh highs, shoving you into the wall, making you faint at school from kicking your stomach. And chipping your god damn tooth.. you still wanted to make sure he was okay. ..

The text he sent you made you cry instantly, why.. why.. you wanted to be near him, hear him out. Make him feel better..

😡Stay away from me.

•

@squeaky-ducky

#SideLines #kentarou x reader #kyoutani kentarou #haikyuu fanfiction #LongFic #kyotani 💕

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alukardtheabysswalker · 4 years

Text

Sasha: Dead or Alive?

So I know I’m not a big figure of TMA theories, not even close, but I’d like to put my thoughts in one place and if you feel like reading a bit of narrative analysis of a very well written series then please, suit yourself. And of course, Spoilers ahead.

So, Sasha. With all that’s been happening in this season one gets the feeling that not only is her memory that is getting a lot of narrative attention but also her position. Now, I’m aware and even participated in theories regarding the possibility of characters in our story coming and going, knowingly or not, in and out of different universes and I’m sure that will have it’s own narrative pay off. But I want to focus a bit more on what we have right here and now. So I’m going to name all the points I think the story and narrative has given us thus far to believe our dear Almost Archivist could be either dead or alive. Bear in mind I am not that good at checking the many little details and much of this could be more gut feeling than precise data, but I’m listening to the podcast for the third time now and I feel like I have enough points to make a statement(pun very much intended) on the case. But if you want to provide more evidence feel free to do so! I am very much inviting discourse on the matter. Without further adieu, let's get to the point/s.

Alive:

Sasha’s initial role was a bit more heavy in the story. However given that her VA couldn’t keep working due to her own schedule they resorted to giving said role to Tim. You can see this change in narrative in the fact that Tim’s VA had to adapt a bit. Not only is he a producer of the show but now a very important character who was originally going to be the first tragic Death of the series, and now has to adapt his acting to a character that is scarred by the events that haunt him. Which he did marvelously btw. And with the tape presented in the second episode of this season you can see how they're adjusting the narrative to fit his tragic past and Sasha’s importance to the Archive. Hell when I was listening to S1 ending I was convinced Tim or Martin were going to be the victims of the attack. Narratively it all pointed to Sasha being the powerhose of the group. Which made it all the more hurtful when she was taken.

Speaking of said tape, in there she talks about how who you are is what you do and what you show to other people. She specially mentions Masks. Which if you paid attention to MAG 165 is kind of the whole theme. Faces being changed and with that memories, people, personalities. Maybe, as it’s been pointed out, she was not killed but was robbed of her face and she’s been wondering about, without even knowing who she is.

And on THAT regard we can look at what Not!Sasha said. She took her life. If you were to take this at face value (again, pun intended) it would mean literally killing her. But let’s think about that for a second. What the Not!Them does is take the lives of the people they attack. They put themselves in their place and change enough of R E A L I TY to fit themselves in. Photographs, memories, clothes, everything adapts to them, save for a few things, enough to make someone paranoid and afraid of them. Even Gertrude herself mentions how it is that they always seem to miss someone but I think it is rather the point that they do. If no one is aware of this supernatural identity theft then who is left to scare? Going back to our original point, what if Not!Them doesn’t kill their victims but instead take their lives? As in, everything else except killing them. There is also this proposal that every entity or at least many of them have their own dimension or pocket dimension. The Lonely has its misty shore, The Vast literally just casts you into an endless sky or the void of space, The Spiral has The Distortion trapping people inside of their halls, you get it. This leads to our next point.

This strange carrousel that appears as the Nightmare of many people fearing The Stranger gave us three very interesting bits of information to chew on: One, it shows what many people have theorized would be The Stranger’s or at least Not!Them's dimension. People who do not know who they are and are desperately trying to find out, even stealing other peoples faces, memories, names...their lives. Two, not only that but the creature that is controlling this IS Not!Them, Martin even calls them “It’s Goddess”, and mentions how it must have full control over it. Third, Jon rode one of these a few years ago. No this is not important to our conversation (I think) but I WILL chew on it because I love this adorable man and I wish I was as brave as him to get on a carousel at my age (25) because I’d love it. Anyway, going back to our second bit of info: Not!Them is dead. In a delicious moment of revenge Jon destroyed them and Martin asks what would happen to this place without them? Well, maybe the people that were inside were freed, at least for a moment, maybe with enough time to remember or search for who they were?

This all could mean that not only is Sasha alive, granted having been in a horrifying Nightmare for YEARS now but it may also mean that she is also finally free. There’s still the theory of other universes and I like to play with it because not only would resolve some stuff that looks to be narratively incoherent(tho nothing definitive there) but it would also explain a lot regarding Jon’s shifting memories of the events of the series. Again I am not that versed in this topic to bring it into question.

Finally it would seem that the story is focusing a lot on Sasha as an important entity(yes, still intended) not just as a deceased character with a potential role but as one that still can and will bring change to the story.

So, we seem to have a lot of reasons given to us by the story and how it is being told to believe that yes, Sasha is alive and important to the story. And here comes the dreaded buts/s.

Dead:

The most important fact that I want to point out in this regard is that The Magnus Archives takes death very seriously. Not only death in the real world, brought by cruel beings and people, supernatural creatures and evil systems that send people to die and be killed by the interest of others. But as probably many of you know the writers and producers of the show want death to be important, to have weight in the story. Both Jon and Alex have said so in QAs and you can tell just by listening to the show. When a character dies, they stay dead. Death is final and even people that “cheat death” must pay a high price, usually living miserable “lives” killing other people or regretting their so called luck in avoiding their final destination. Death makes every character aware of the danger they are in and when it is granted so easily it is shown as the result of corrupted, sadistic people and monsters (cough police cough acab cough). Therefore, bringing back a character from the dead would feel cheap, it would take the weight out of the story. That is not to say they haven’t faked deaths before, Trevor is a good example, and you have an Avatar of The End very much alive-ish after having a Satellite dropped on him (Man I love this podcast) but the key difference, to me at least, is that Sasha was The First. The important character that we were sure either wouldn’t die because of plot armor or the aforementioned narrative importance she was given. But no, everybody can die, and that makes everyone afraid and wary of their actions.

It would also make Not!Them less scary, less imposing which would rob them of their position as a horrifying monster. We either knew or suspected that they had killed and surely replaced Sasha, now we feared for what might happen to the rest of the team. In the end, they were not only very much dangerous but also yes, they killed Sasha in a gruesome way, now maybe even do the same to Jon. You could argue that being trapped in that hellscape of The Stranger is an equally fearsome destiny, but at this point we´ve seen Jon disregard said dangers and literally rescue TWO people from TWO different nightmarish dimensions. Yes it is stated as the almost miracle that it is and it is important to show Jon’s improvement and growth but it also robs them of their weight. Not completely of course, but as long as Jon is around they aren’t that scary anymore, and given that he is our protagonist well, he is always around. There is also that beautiful scene in which he gets a very much earned revenge. If Sasha was not dead then it kind of loses its value.

Now I am going to cheat a little bit because here I am going to take our previous points and turn them on their heads inserting an “Alive” point here. You could argue that of course it still has value. They don’t know that Sasha is alive and technically neither do we, killing Sasha or not this monster definitely tortured our crew and this is a well earned punishment. Plus it is very well written and presented. You could even make a point that, with the death of Not!Sasha comes the revival of Actual!Sasha. And getting this far after so many real deaths it could even make sense to have one narrative rebirth of a character that was robbed of her chance of glory. Which can fit in this established narrative of:”She could have been The Archivist! The Protagonist”.

And here comes the but: What if this is not about Sasha but instead Other!Sasha? Remember when I said I wasn’t going to take into consideration theories regarding parallel universes? Well I might have lied a little bit. You see, from the moment Jon played Gertrude’s tape regarding her successor I began to have this thought:”This is a theme of what ifs, of potential possibilities and different timelines”. Now, I have to say again that I’m not an expert on this topic, this is more of an analysis of what I think or feel I’m seeing the narrative of this season is heading towards. Maybe there is an alternative reality, with a different crew. One that might sound like our dear Archival Buddies but are actually very much different. On the surface, their masks if you will, they are our Sasha, our Tim, our Martin, but once we get to know them, to know about them, they are different people. There is this theory that the house cleaner that got trapped by the house on Hilltop Road is an alternative version of the nurse that worked close to said house. She mentions how her friends are different, how they almost don’t recognize her. But I mean, they didn’t reject her, they even helped her and recommended her that she make a statement at The Magnus Institute. What if there is another Sasha, but not quite the one we’d want. And even if Sasha was alive, if we disregarded all of this, what kind of person would she be after everything that's happened to her?

I’m not sure I can give you a conclusion here. We are after all barely in episode five of this 40 episode season and this might all be proven wrong next chapter, or the next, or all 35 that come after that, but I’ve seen many people talking about how they are completely sure that Sasha is definitely alive and kicking, and while I agree in many points I also have seen a lot of evidence, especially when it comes to the narrative, that would point to the contrary. It honestly crushes my heart to think that we have more than thirty weeks of content ahead of us and many people will keep the hope that this amazing character is still alive but would end up having said hopes utterly crushed by the end of it. But I can also see where you’re all coming from and can see why you would think that way, so I wanted to present what evidence and conjectures of my own I had on the topic. If you’ve gotten this far I want to thank you for joining me in this attempt at a presentation or...expose? Feel free to add any other points that you think or believe would favor one end or the other and I hope you had a good time while reading this. Love you all <3

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itsanerdlife · 5 years

Text

Smoke 9/16

Pairing: Ronin!Clint Batron x Black Cat!Reader

Warning: Violence. Torture mentioned. Death mentioned. Nightmares. Lies. Seducing. Sexual humor. Broken and damaged pasts. Killing. Possessive Male. Struggling to open up. Secrets. Dark past.

A/N: ENDGAME SPOILERS IF YOU HAVEN’T SEEN IT, DON’T READ THIS!!!

After the snap, the avengers split apart. Finding their own ways to cope. Clint found his under a new identity, Ronin. Getting revenge for those they lost. For the family taken from them. The evil left when heroes were wiped out, it became his mission to take out the evil. All while keeping a list of those who could help, if needed one day. Clint stumbles upon a woman, Cat. She’s a mystery in the dark. One happen stance meet, one night, gone like smoke.

After the second snap, setting the world right again. Fury is looking at those kept tabs on. When Cat appears on the screen, nobody know a lot about the mysterious woman who haunted Clint’s dreams and stole his favorite T-shirt. There’s a chance she’s in trouble, can Clint find her, convince her there is more, that he can save her? But is he the cause of what’s after her? Just what mystery is she keeping all to herself? Or is he the one she’s trying to save?

Clint

His jaw worked in angry ticks. Chewing the inside of his cheek to keep his tongue from lashing out. What was he supposed to do, sit there and watch? Bucky’s hand slips up Y/N’s bare arm and his hand grips his knees to keep him in place. His girl. His best friend. Having their own private conversation on the edge of the room. Her head tips slowly to one side, as if she was listening to his own internal struggle.

Clint clenches his jaw. Looking away from the two off to the side of the room. He cuts his eyes to Nat who sat at the other end of the couch. It’s pouring rain this morning, everyone was kicked back waiting for it to clear. Or till they were called to run out the door. He slips towards Nat, her eyes cut up from her book watching him.

“What?” She lifts a brow.

“Nothing.” He shrugs. His arm slips over the back of the couch, behind her. If Buck could do it, so could Clint. Not that he was actually into Nat, that was more like finding your sister attractive.

“Why are you near me Barton?” Nat sighs, not looking up from her book this time.

“How are you?” He smiles at her. “Good?” Now she looks up at him, like she was waiting for him to confess his sins.

“Better, if you moved away from me.” She snorts.

“You and Buck. Good?” He nods slowly. She looks passed him, at the two still talking. She rolls her eyes, her hand comes up.

“Get away from me, Clint.” Covering his face, she shoves him back. He goes over, before straightening up a little farther away from her now.

“Nat.” He scuffs.

“Drama Queen.” Nat smirks back at her book.

“She talks to him, but not me.” He huffs, admitting his issue. She sighs, closing her book she looks over at him.

“Clint you can’t push the broken.” She shakes her head softly. “It doesn’t work that way and you know it.” She gives him a pointed look.

“She thinks sex is a commitment.” He mutters.

“It’s a step towards opening yourself, emotionally. That is commitment to girls like us.” She shrugs.

“Fuck.” He sighs, scrapping his hands down his face. He turns, dropping back, his head in Nat’s lap. She snorts, picking up a pillow she waits for him to lift his head, shoving it into place for him. She had a point, she was more like Nat than he really cared to look.

“You don’t push me to talk about my secrets.” She looks down at him. “Why are you so pushy with her?” She quirks a brow.

“Because what I feel for her is very different.” He sighs.

“You’re scared to lose her, again.” Nat sighs. “But you push her and you’re going to lose her anyways and you know that.” She taps her pointer finger into his forehead. He swats at her hand.

“Oh what do you know.” He huffs.

“Drama Queen.” She grins.

“Satan.” He rolls his eyes.

“Awe. Thank you.” Nat melts a little.

“You really are fucked up.” He snorts.

“Like your girlfriend.” She gives him a cocky smirk.

“I hate you.” He mutters.

“Could you be more possessive of a woman who literally gives the vibe, of kill you in your sleep?” Nat grins.

“It’s a nice thrill. Am I going to wake up today? Is she going to kill me? Or is she going to seduce me and rob me?” He shrugs.

“You’d still ask her to come back.” Nat laughs.

“I’m a little fucked up.” He grins at her.

“Preaching to the choir, Marc.” She shakes her head, picking up her book again.

----------

“Um.” She squeaks softly, from the chair she was curled up in. He folds the paper in half, looking at her. Hair tied up on top of her head. She wore a faded T-shirt and a pair of comfy shorts.

“Babe?” He lifts a brow, wondering what she was up too.

“They’re debts paid.” She blurts out. “People I’ve killed for what they did to me.” She speaks to her hands, not looking up. The rest of them exchange a look, understanding where she was going with this.

“The tattoos?” Wanda wonders.

“Yeah.” She nods.

“Okay.” He nods, straightening his paper back out.

“That’s it?” She seemed almost surprised. “Okay?” He folds the paper down again, looking at her.

“You have tattoos. I have a small notebook of people for Karma.” He nods, her head tips.

“I have a ledger, with photos.” Nat nods.

“I have a database.” Tony grins. Clint snorts.

“Karma?” She looks over at him. “Really?”

“I read the obituaries and cross them out in my notebook.” He nods.

“What did the circus do to you?” Buck laughs.

“Nothing. Why?” Clint looks back at the paper in his hands.

“Who are the arrows for?” Peter asks softly.

“That’s a bigger story.” She swallows, chewing her bottom lip.

“My dad worked for Oscorp.” Peter nods. “The reason I survived the bite, was because he secretly stabilized the formula with his DNA. That’s why it kills everyone else.” Peter admits. Clint’s eyes cut to her once more.

“I had a sister, Maddie.” She looks down at her fingers twisted together.

“Had?” Sam eyes flick around.

“I was thirteen when I was patient zero.” She nods. “Maddie was six. They made her patient one. It killed her.” She whispers softly. It clicked into place for Clint.

“That’s why you are,” he nods “with Morgan.” Peter and Tony exchange a look.

“She reminds me of Maddie. Maddie was obsessed with Odin. Odin, he’s never grown attached to another child. Till now.” She shrugs.

“I’ll share her with you.” Peter grins.

“The arrows are for, the scientists, those who were there. Six of them.” She nods.

“You have seven.” Clint watches her.

“One for my father.” She stares back at him.

“How long have you been on your own?” Tony asks.

“Since I was fifteen.” She nods. “Never trusted anyone after that.” She sighs.

“Till now.” Buck smirks.

“I’ll find a way to kill you Frankenstein.” She points a finger at him.

“Don’t poke the cat, Buck.” Nat sighs, going back to her book. Buck and Sam laugh, dirty grins on their faces.

“I’ll kill you.” Clint sighs, setting the paper down.

“I need coffee.” Sam looks down at his cup, he’s out of his chair and leaving the room.

“I’m going to find Steve.” Buck nods, heading in the other direction.

“Possessive.” Nat coughs into her hand. Wanda cackles, Peter inhales his coffee.

“Satan, shut up.” Clint sighs.

“Who knew the devil was so hot. Is that how you get your hair so red?” Y/N grins, leaning forward.

“The blood of my enemies.” Nat winks at her.

“How do you get yours so white?” Wanda grins.

“All the souls I’ve sucked out.” She laughs, Tony coughs clapping a hand over his mouth. Peter dripples coffee down his shirt in shock.

“Really?” Clint sighs, looking over at her.

“What?” She bats wide, grey eyes at him. “Urban myth says Black Cat’s sucked the souls from people. It’s an old witches curse.” She shrugs, leaning back in her seat, picking up her phone.

“She’s so hot, it actually hurts.” Nat grins at him.

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

Everything Peaches 2/6/19: @xmtd5 @mo320 @all1e23 @courtmr @avxgers @eliza-kat @izzy--lee @irepeldirt @dumblani @nishanki1 @crist1216 @alyssaj23 @allyp1023 @joannie95 @kolakube9 @rileyloves5 @sarahp879 @sea040561 @tomhardy41 @sexyvixen7 @pcterpvrker @pigwidgexn @doctoranon @abschaffer2 @justrae9903 @bookluver01 @teller258316 @callie-bear15 @nickimarie94 @wandressfox @amandab-ftw @carostar2020 @henrietteoaks @nea90sweetie @circusofchaos @itsagalaxystar @bettercallsabs @miraclesoflove @lucifersnipnips @queenkrissy11 @this-is-mycrisis @sadyoungadult @destiel-artemis @paintballkid711 @isabelcrichards @iwillbeinmynest @sweet-honey15 @chanelmadrid13 @mellxander1993 @killerbumblebee @spookygrantaire @geeksareunique @supernatural508 @sammysgirl1997 @itzmegaaaaaaan @booksbeforebois @childishhoebinoo @elizabethaellison @aspiringtranslator @mariekoukie6661 @pure-princess-97 @capsheadquaters @samanthasmileys @nerdypinupcrystal @atlas-of-the-world @youclickedthislink @futuremrsb-r-main @lovemarvelousfics @notyourtypicalrose @petersunderoos96 @loving-life-my-way @buckystolemyheart @booktvmoviefangirl @supernatural-girl97 @dumbbitchenergytm @abbypalmer14-blog @fanfictionjunkie1112 @meganlikesfandoms @awkwardfangirl2014 @supernaturaldean67 @neverahdullmoment @xqueenofthecraziesx @queenoftheunderdark @writingaworldofmyown @supernaturallover2002 @daughterofthenight117 @mustbeaweasleyginger @mcuwillbethedeathofme @sprinklesandsugarcubes @whothehellisbucky-1930 @verymuchclosetedfangirl @for-the-love-of-the-fandom @ocaptain-mycaptainmorgan @wonderlandfandomkingdom @crazy-little-thing-called-buck @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @stupendoussciencenaturepanda @jamesbarnesappreciationsociety @supernatural-strangerthings-1980

Marvel Tag List 2/6/19: @lumelgy @dottirose @jcc04220 @rockagurl @a--1--1--3 @mizzzpink @jade-taillia @coley0823 @widowsfics @bookluver01 @thelostallycat @shield-agent78 @dtftheavengers @ilovetvshowsblog @capsheadquaters @iamwarrenspeace @thefridgeismybestie @whenallsaidanddone @deanwinchestersrifle @fandomsstolemylife00 @daughterofthenight117 @lilmissperfectlyimperfect

Clint ‘Destory Me, I’ll Thank You’ Barton: @ml7010 @coley0823 @yavanna80 @lakamaa12 @boltsgirl919 @feelmyroarrrr @mrsseizetheday @honey-bee-holly @marvelfansworld @mybarnesmyhero @the-real-mary-jane @dumbbitchenergytm @agentsinstorybrooke @x-whyareyoureadingthis-x @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory

Smoke: @2s0uls @xxloki81xx @csigeoblue @demonlover87 @capandbuckylvr @marvelfansworld @natromanoffsboys @barton-you-dummy @thefandomimagines @thosesexytexasboys

#Marvel #Clint Barton x Reader #Avengers #Clint x Reader #Smoke #Marvel Fanfiction #Clint Barton Series #Avengers Fanfiction #Ronin Series

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vindogy · 4 years

Text

Part 4 of the Skully ask that turned into a whole AU

(A little somethin extra at the end too)

After a concerning amount of time, Brian finally began regaining consciousness. Opening his eyes and letting out a few groans of pain, wincing at the soreness of his body, he looked down and instantly realized he was bound to the chair he was so familiar with. No longer having his vision obscured as he was so used to having, he realized his mask was off. He set his sights on Jay, giving him a knowing glare. He stayed silent, his gaze burning into Jay, but didn’t struggle from his position. All he had was an intimidating expression on his face that Jay wished was aimed at someone else. Mustering up some courage, Jay decided to break the silence at long last. But to his surprise, it was Brian who spoke first.

“Y’know, there were better ways to do this.”

Jay gasped in surprise. He assumed that one-word answers were all Brian could manage at this point, but it looked like that wasn’t the case. Brian continued speaking, a sly grin beginning to spread across his face, despite the several bruises and bloodstains.

“For starters, this chair is barely being held together after Tim nearly broke it. Metal’s bent, and I could struggle out pretty easily. Second of all, you can’t tie knots for shit. I already got a little wiggle room and I didn’t even move yet. Third…”

Brian turned his gaze to Tim, who was still crouched down and silent.

“… have you forgotten? We’re a team. I know how to control him, you don’t. Hell, I could tell him to kill you right now and you’d be none the wiser.”

Jay looked down in shame. He really didn’t think this through, and Brian was making sure he knew that.

“Seriously, what were you thinking? I don’t blame you though. I’ve seen how you act. You can be pretty damn stupid sometimes.”

Jay wanted to respond to the insult, but he couldn’t think of an adequate response. Brian let out a laugh and looked down at the blood dripping onto his jeans. He looked back up and flashed a crimson smile at Jay.

“But let’s say you weren’t a dumbass. Let’s say you took me far into the forest, Tim nowhere in sight. You tied me tight enough to make my limbs numb, and you have a jagged knife in your hand, ready to cut me up and bleed me like a pig if I don’t answer your questions. Let’s say you’ve absolutely broken me, and I’m sitting here crying in pain, begging you not to tear into me anymore. My eyes are gouged out, my clothes have been torn off, and you’re there making sure I feel as much pain as possible. Even then, I wouldn’t tell you jack shit. Let’s say you’ve trained Tim and you’re making him crush every bone in my body into fine dust. Hell, let’s say you’ve buddied up with Alex and he’s siccing The Operator on me, making me live through a thousand years of pain in one minute. Even then, I won’t tell you shit!”

Brian let out another laugh, taking sick pleasure in describing his own brutal torture.

“But none of that’s happening. You’re here, having me tied onto a flimsy chair, right next to one of my most vicious partners, and you didn’t even have the brains to gag me! You’re a real riot, Jay, I’ll give you that.”

In an instant, his tone shifted drastically, now looking at Jay with a stone-cold expression.

“But this is all so, so, so useless. Curiosity killed the cat, Jay, and right now you’re looking like a nice defenseless cat caught in a bear trap, surrounded by nature’s top apex predators. Why don’t you give me a reason to not kill you where you stand?”

Sweat was running down Jay’s back. He was terrified. Brian was not like this at all. Not the Brian he knew. Jay stuttered, trying to think of a valid reason that wouldn’t get him killed.

“W-well… you uh… y-you need me!”

Brian raised an eyebrow and smirked. Jay knew exactly what Alex was feeling when he told him to wipe that stupid smile off his face.

“I do?”

Jay tried his best to hide his fear. The shuddering overtaking his body was on obvious tell that he was very bad at hiding it.

“Y-yeah. You and T-Tim can’t take on Alex. Y-you’ve tried before! You need me!”

Brian looked to the side and nodded.

“Alright. Fair point. You can live for now, but if you t-”

“Wait!”

Jay made a sudden and brave interruption. He wanted answers, not another reason to fear the hooded man. Brian seemed surprised by the sudden courage as well.

“Whoa. Didn’t know you had the guts to interrupt me when I’m talking. What do you want?”

Jay stopped shuddering. He had to find out at least one thing.

“Why does the mask calm Tim down? Why does the mask turn him into that?”

Brian gave Jay a pained smile, looking like he’d been wanting to answer this for a long time.

“Aw well, that’s easy. See, when Timmy boy doesn’t get his meds, he gets real, real angry. It was always a slight problem. Back in college, the worst that would happen is that he’d lash out and maybe yell, but that’s about it.”

Brian paused for a moment, and Jay swore he saw a look of guilt in Brian’s eyes.

“But then enter Alex and The Operator. Yeah, that thing had latched onto Tim, but he did a pretty good job at not letting it get to him. Alex, on the other hand, oh boy. One encounter, and he’s out here killing people left and right, unknowingly feeding that thing. The Operator is a pretty messed up thing, y’know? If it doesn’t swallow you up in its dimension to keep your hopeless corpse in for god knows how long, it’ll instead chew you up and spit you out, breaking your mind in the process. Happened to me, happened to Tim, and now it’s happened to you.”

Brian’s eyes began to water, yet his voice didn’t waver.

“And man, let me tell you, it fucking sucks! Tim got even more violent before I was even there to intervene. He’d go on rampages late at night, running around the forest and tearing up all those poor innocent animals he saw. Dude was strong enough to take down a deer with his bare hands. That’s pretty impressive, ain’t it? Too bad I didn’t get any superpowers. All I got was a nasty cough and the worst trauma of my life!”

Brian’s voice was now breaking. He was beginning to lose his composure.

“You know how it feels to wake up one morning with no memory of what happened last night, and suddenly realizing that you don’t care about anyone anymore? I could cut up my own parents with a rusty razor, hear them cry my name and beg for mercy, and I wouldn’t feel a damn thing! Not even a drop of remorse, nope! And believe me, I wish I could. I wanted to care so much. But now, I couldn’t give a damn about what happens to anyone! Not even myself! I can’t live a normal life anymore. Society would lock me up and let me rot. I can’t have friends, I can’t have a family, I can’t have anything a normal person can have! And you know what? I’d prefer being dead!”

Brian let out a shaky laugh, several tears dropping onto his hoodie. He was vulnerable right now. Going against his morals, Jay decided to take advantage of this.

“Is that why you want to go to the ark?”

Brian immediately stopped. He looked up, his intimidating glare having returned. But just as soon as it came, it left. Tears welled up as Brian burst into tears, finally letting out years of pent up trauma and grief.

“Yes! Yes goddammit. I saw it! I saw the ark and by god, it was the worst experience of my life, but it has SOMETHING. I don’t know if I’ll ever go back to how I used to be. I want to. I want that life back so bad. I want all those lost years back. I want to have hope in the future, but right now I’m feeling that the only thing the future has for me is my lifeless corpse in the middle of nowhere.”

Brian took a moment to compose himself. Despite easily being able to free himself from Jay’s restraint, he chose not to do so. Jay wondered if this was a sign of submission.

“You though. After all those years, you began watching those tapes. You learned everything. And all of the sudden, I wasn’t alone anymore. I had a little sliver of hope in my life once more.”

Brian gritted his teeth and shook his head, regaining his anger.

“But you weren’t doing ANYTHING helpful. You just walked around like a headless chicken, getting yourself in spats with Tim. And then one day you team up with Alex despite knowing damn well something was up with him, and together you fucking broke Tim’s leg. No Jay, you weren’t just not doing anything. You were actively HURTING my efforts. You made it all worse getting all inflammatory with Tim. And I went back to being alone. Even more alone than before, since you took Tim along with you only to traumatize him even more.”

Jay immediately snapped back, shocked at Brian’s lack of self-awareness.

“I’m the one who traumatized him? Don’t you think treating him like your personal attack dog would have a worse impact on his psyche?”

Brian lashed out at the accusation, though Jay could see his facade beginning to break.

“Doesn’t matter what I do to him when he’s like that. He doesn’t remember any of it anyways. Unless of course, two lanky idiots decided to break his leg. That would matter quite a bit.”

Jay was getting heated as well. He knew that he wasn’t the most responsible decision maker, but Brian had a lot to be blamed for as well.

“You kept stealing his meds. You forced him into that state, robbing him of the normal life he tried so hard to have. He can’t hold steady work, and his mind is getting worse and worse every time you use him like that. Does that not matter to you?”

Another flash of guilt appeared in Brian’s eyes. He tried to deflect it once more.

“What matters is getting rid of The Operator. One casualty is nothing compared to the damage it d-”

“You never answered my question.”

Brian paused.

“Huh?”

“I asked you why the mask calms Tim down. Answer me.”

Brian’s face got red.

“Well, it’s because uh. . . it reminds him of the old days. I did my research. Back when he was being hospitalized, they’d always place a mask over his face to administer anesthetic to get him to calm down. Tim was too violent, though, so a normal mask wouldn’t work. They had to lock up his entire face into a heavy-duty one, made so that it couldn’t be ripped off or broken. Any time he wears that mask, it reminds him of those times. By instinct, it makes him calm and obedient.”

Jay shook his head as he glared at Brian.

“You’re fucked up. Don’t you feel any pity for him?”

Brian stayed silent.

“Well, do you? Tim was your best friend. Surely you feel at least SOMETHING for him?”

Brian bit his lip as he tried to stop the tears from flowing once more. He remained silent but pensive.

“What even is the ark, Brian? What is this thing you deem so important that you’re willing to ruin your best friend's life to even get a chance of seeing it?”

Brian looked up. His violent spirit had also been calmed, replaced with a softer tone that Jay could tell had a lot of fear behind it.

“The ark is where The Operator keeps all its victims. I saw it when Alex fed me to that thing. An ever-growing empty landscape filled with bodies. Some still conscious, but their minds gone. Some rotted, some freshly killed. Some still crying for help. The Operator feeds off of their despair. It prefers people on the brink of death, so it can suck out as much despair from them as possible. It keeps the corpses to induce even more despair into those who go into it.”

Brian’s gaze went off into the horizon, empty and unblinking, as he remembered everything.

“You’re a religious guy, aren’t you Jay?”

Jay nodded.

“You know the story of Noah’s Ark? Of course you do. There’s a reason why I call this place The Ark.”

Brian grinned for a moment before returning to his somber expression.

“There’s two of each.”

“What does that mean?”

Brian bit his lip once more, this time drawing blood.

“Every person in the world you can think of. A shy lonely man with social anxiety and a knack of bringing danger to his friends. A troubled man running from his past. A cheerful girl who dated the wrong man. Any person you can think of, any combination of traits or personality, anything. Absolutely any and all people you can think up of, no matter how specific, The Operator wants two of. Doesn’t matter how unique you think you are. In there, at some point, you’ll eventually find someone just like you. And that’s when you lose all hope. That’s when you realize that if someone just like you never escaped, you’ll never escape as well. How you’re just a bag of flesh with no purpose. And that’s when The Operator digs in, having the biggest feast of a lifetime.”

Brian took a deep breath, having to compose himself yet again. The stoic personality he kept in his hooded form had shattered thanks to Jay’s conversation.

“The Operator loves taunting us. Sometimes it’ll toss you into the ark without a second thought, wanting you to feel nothing but despair. But I want to go there. I know better. I can go in there with hope and help people escape. The more I help, the more people that can help others. It only takes one hole to sink a boat, after all. Once the ark is empty, The Operator has nothing left to feed on. From there, it’ll starve. And that’s one less horror the world has to deal with.”

Brian’s gaze suddenly turned hopeful.

“And that’s where my plan comes in. If I can get into the ark without being on the brink of death, I can save someone. Just one person. That alone would be enough to hurt The Operator and leave it from attacking us ever again. But that’s not what I want. I want it dead.”

Brian looked up at Jay, his eyes now kindled with a familiar warmth behind them.

“Catch my drift?”

Jay nodded. Brian had completely changed from the psychopathic sadist he was before this. Was a good conversation all he needed? Jay’s internal questioning was interrupted by Tim shuffling in front of Jay. This reminded Jay of another point he wanted to address.

“Wait! What about Tim? Do you really want to keep him like this?”

Brian nodded, then paused, shook his head, then nodded again.

“I uh. . . I don’t know. He’s more useful this way for sure but. . . if you take that mask off him and give him his meds again, he’ll be fine. But is that what you want? How do you think he’ll react to seeing you, not only still alive, but in cahoots with his presumed dead best friend who ended up being his stalker all along. How do you think he’ll react knowing that two of his closest friends brutally attacked him and broke his mind? Do you think he’ll be cooperative?”

Jay was stuck. Brian had a good point. Turning Tim back to normal would cause a lot more problems, and chances are it would traumatize him more than anything. But keeping him as an obedient, unthinking bodyguard felt wrong, and would only worsen his mental state. Meanwhile, Brian had already freed himself and was standing next to Tim, a bottle of pills in hand. He could tell Jay was having a rough time deciding.

“Well, what’ll it be Jay? Free him, or keep him masked up for a while longer?”

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

(Surprise! I don’t know how to follow this up so I’m just gonna say fuck it and let whoever cares enough about this to choose. Of course, if I get requests for both I’ll write em both, but I’m interested to see where people's hearts lie in this situation.)

#mine #marble hornets #long post

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gamerwoo · 5 years

Text

Seonghwa: Facade (Part 4)

Characters: Seonghwa x female reader (featuring Mingi, Hongjoong, San, and Yeosang)

Genre/warnings: royalty au, sorta arranged marriage au, slowburn, fluff, angst, mentions of stabbing, blood and wounds, choking (no, not the sexy kind)

Word count: 4,093

Summary: Being an assassin, you’ll do anything for anybody as long as they can pay for it. However, you might’ve met your match after meeting your next target, Park Seonghwa, the prince of the kingdom. It’s not that his fighting skills match yours or that he’s even a little suspicious of you – it’s how he has a heart of gold, cares so deeply for his kingdom, and would do anything for you despite the fact he has only just met you. So now you have to make a choice: fail your orders and accept death…or kill the man you’ve fallen in love with.

Previous | Next

Day 24; 10:34 -- 66 days until deadline.

The only time you’d ever seen Seonghwa be ‘prince-like’ was the day you met him, and it was only because he had his crown on his head. Every other day after that, you never met him while he was wearing his crown. But today, you actually got to see him in action as you sat in a smaller throne beside his. He kept his left arm on his armrest just to hold your hand as he listened to each person from the kingdom that came in to talk about whatever problems they had. Seonghwa listened attentively while his thumb lightly rubbed over your knuckles. You actually thought shadowing Seonghwa was kind of fun -- even if you were forced to meet whoever walked into the throne room.

It was amazing how many times you were complimented that day -- not to mention the fact Seonghwa matched every single one.

“Your highness, your bride is beautiful.”

“Isn’t she?”

“Prince Seonghwa, she perfectly matches your beauty.”

“She exceeds it.”

But you were also surprised that people actually liked you. Sure, you merely sat there and only spoke unless you were directly spoken to -- even though Seonghwa insisted you could do as you pleased when he was around -- but these people gushed about how they couldn’t wait to see you rule by Seonghwa’s side. Despite the fact you knew that day would never come, you felt your heart swell with pride anyway. You weren’t sure why you were proud, either. You just were.

From behind you where Hongjoong stood, you could practically feel him smirking at you. Even though you never answered his question, it’s like he knew you no longer felt neutral toward Seonghwa. He knew you were starting to feel at least a slight fondness toward him, but he also knew that if it came down to it, you’d still kill Seonghwa without a second thought. He knew you had to. You knew you had to.

“Thank you, Prince Seonghwa,” the farmer that was currently in front of you bowed deeply after Seonghwa had promised to grant him more land for his farming. He presented a basket of vegetables to the guard standing beside Seonghwa. “Please, accept these as a thank you. And Miss Areum, it was a pleasure to meet you.”

“Thank you,” you smiled politely with a nod while Seonghwa also thanked the man for the vegetables. You looked to your right to Seonghwa. “I hope I’ll do well beside Seonghwa.”

Seonghwa smiled warmly, “You will.”

The man was shown out by another guard before the next person was brought in. You had a moment between the first person leaving and the next person coming in, so Seonghwa leaned over and pressed a quick peck to your cheek before somebody who would reprimand him could notice. He laughed softly when he watched your cheeks blush a soft shade of pink.

“Have you always been this easily flustered?” he wondered. “I don’t remember you blushing ever when we first met.”

You heard Hongjoong let out a short, quick laugh. When you turned to look up at him, he played it off as a cough, hiding his smirk behind his closed fist as he looked away.

“Your highness,” a somewhat familiar voice panted, pulling your attention away from Hongjoong, and Seonghwa’s question. Your eyes went to the door to the throne room that was now open, two very familiar people walking -- well, one was walking and the other was practically dragged -- in. “Your highness, we need your assistance.”

Your heart leaped up into your throat. Mingi was basically being held up by San, one of his friends. His face was pale but flushed red, he was practically dripping with sweat, and he just overall looked like he was barely alive. You weren’t sure how this could happen to your brother in a matter of days, and you almost shot straight up and rushed over to him.

It was the hand on your shoulder from Hongjoong that kept you seated.

“What’s happened?” Seonghwa asked, sounding genuinely concerned.

“My name is Choi San,” San began. “I own and work in the bakery in town.”

“Ah, right!” Seonghwa nodded. “Our wedding cake is coming from there. I love your shop.”

“Thank you, your highness,” San nodded. “My friend, Mingi here helps me out from time to time, but a stranger came into the shop the other day. I wasn’t there so I’m not positive what happened, but Mingi says they stabbed him.”

“Is Mingi able to tell the story for himself?” Seonghwa asked slowly, studying your brother carefully.

Mingi’s eyes flashed over to meet yours before he looked back to the prince and staggered forward, taking labored breaths as he held his stomach with one arm, “Y-yes, your highness. I was...r-running the shop alone... San had family m-matters to a-attend to... A-a man...came into the shop...I th-think he wanted to-- t-to rob the shop... I wouldn’t g-give him money, s-so...he c-cut my side...”

You weren’t sure if Mingi was lying or not. He was either telling the truth about almost getting robbed, or he had gotten himself in some trouble and needed a good excuse. Since San was pretty well-known as the town baker, he could easily be used for an excuse.

“Do you mind if I see the wound?” Seonghwa asked, his eyebrows furrowing as he watched Mingi struggle to stand.

San held almost all of Mingi’s weight as your brother lifted his shirt, showing a bloodied white bandage on his left side. Judging from where most of the dark red was, you assumed the cut went from his left side to almost the center of his stomach. You sucked in a sharp breath seeing it, and Seonghwa brought your hand closer to him, bringing his free hand over to hold your hand in both of his now to comfort you -- he thought you just didn’t like seeing the gore.

“You shouldn’t look, darling,” he frowned.

“Prince Seonghwa,” San spoke up, “we don’t have enough money to help Mingi. If we don’t get him proper help, he’ll die. Please.”

You looked at Seonghwa, waiting for his answer. He had turned a few people away if their requests were too much, and you were afraid this would be one of those cases. Seonghwa by no means had to help Mingi or San. Besides, Seonghwa didn’t even know Mingi like he knew of San -- nobody knew Mingi. Mingi was like you, so his identity was kept a secret. This was probably the first time the prince -- or anybody outside you and his friends -- had ever seen his face and heard his real name.

But you were also confused as to why Mingi needed money. What happened to the money you had given him? That should’ve lasted him a lot longer, but he was now desperate enough for money to come here and let himself be known. He must’ve gotten himself in some big trouble this time.

You held your breath, waiting for Seonghwa to reply. Your brother’s life was in his hands now.

“Well...” Seonghwa began slowly, chewing on his bottom lip, “if it’s a matter of life and death, I’d say the answer is obvious, is it not?”

Your eyes widened, your heart finally feeling like it could beat again. You felt like you wanted to cry but you knew you couldn’t because that would give at least something away.

San’s eyes widened as well, shocked that the prince agreed, “Are you serious, your highness?”

“Surely, he cannot be,” Seonghwa’s uncle grumbled from off to the side. “Seonghwa, you can’t--”

“I refuse to let one of my people die, uncle,” Seonghwa stated. He looked back to San and Mingi with a warm smile. “Whatever the cost is to save Mingi, I will pay it.”

You almost blurted a “thank you” but San did it for you instead, a wide smile taking over his face as he bowed as best as he could with Mingi’s weight on him.

For the first time since entering the room, San’s eyes went to you as he bowed to you as well, “Miss Areum.”

Mingi’s half-open eyes drifted over to you, speaking through shallow breaths, “You’re going to marry a very generous man. You’re lucky.”

You didn’t understand why Mingi was saying that. The only explanation you could come up with was that his injury was making him not think straight. Still, something about what he said and the way he said it...

“No,” Seonghwa shook his head, smiling at you with all the fondness in the world, “I’m the lucky one.”

One of the guards stepped forward to show them out. Before they were led away, you spoke up, “Get well soon, okay?”

The two paused, Mingi mustering up the best smile he could, “I will...M-Miss Areum.”

“Come back and visit when you’re better!” Seonghwa chirped. “We’d like to know things went well.”

“I will,” Mingi promised. “Th-thank you, your...m-majesty.”

Mingi and San were led out, the doors closing behind them before the next person had to come in.

You stayed in silence, thinking about what Mingi had said. None of it made any sense to you, but you knew if he was in his right mind, he wouldn’t say it for nothing. He wouldn’t say it to try to help you play the part better -- he wouldn’t have said anything at all if that were the case. But the way he looked into your eyes when he said what he said...

“My darling,” Seonghwa’s voice interrupted your thoughts, “that Mingi fellow looked a little similar to you.”

You looked at him, deciding to play off his observation with a joke, “Are you planning on leaving me for the baker’s friend, Seonghwa?”

Seonghwa laughed, shaking his head, “I would never leave you for anybody else in the world.”

When Seonghwa said that to you, you weren’t really sure how to describe ho you felt.

But you thought maybe you liked the feeling.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Day 25; 00:04 -- 65 days until deadline.

You threw open the front door, bursting into the house and shouting for Mingi before the door was even closed. Yeosang waked around the corner to the front door, raising an eyebrow when he saw you in the house.

“Aren’t you supposed to be princess-ing or something?” he questioned.

“Is that _____?” San asked from the other room. “_____, come here!”

You ignored Yeosang, pushing passed him to go to the living room. On the couch laid Mingi, taking up the whole thing and then some. He still looked pretty shitty, but he seemed to be more awake now. His shirt was off with San placing a new bandage over his wound.

San glanced over at you with a small smirk, “Huh, weird how different you look without all that makeup and shit.”

“What happened?” you demanded, your eyes going between the three boys as you awaited answers. “What happened to all the money?”

“I got into some trouble,” Mingi coughed before letting out a groan and holding his side.

“Some guy from Mingi’s last mission showed up at the bakery. He recognized his eyes or something,” San shrugged. “Long story short, he tried to kill him.”

“Okay, but that doesn’t explain the fact you couldn’t pay for this on your own,” you stated, your glare now on your brother. “You didn’t seriously blow all that money already, did you?”

“Uh...well...” he began, looking a little guilty.

You let out a mix between a groan and a whine, your head tilting back for you to stare at the ceiling, “Mingi, what did you do?”

“Well, firstly, he had to pay the damages to the bakery,” San said.

“Fair,” you shrugged, “but it definitely wasn’t that much, was it?”

Yeosang slightly raised his hand in the air, “Can I tell her about how you almost got caught?”

Your eyes widened, looking from Yeosang back to your brother, “What?”

“Listen--”

“Mingi, you are literally a paid assassin, and you almost got caught?!”

“Yeah, say it louder, I think somebody at the other end of the street didn’t hear you.”

You glared at him, almost growling, “Now is not the time to be snappy with me. Mingi, you could’ve died! He could’ve taken you and tortured you or gotten you arrested and tortured!”

“They’re part of some mafia,” he scoffed. “They won’t go to the police because they’ll be in just as much trouble as I would.”

“Mingi--”

“Just be happy Seonghwa gave me the money to get this properly stitched up and taken care of,” he stated, cutting you off efficiently as you remembered the events that took place earlier that day -- technically yesterday, now. “I’m alive thanks to him -- that’s all that matters.”

San looked up from where he was still knelt down by the couch, “Sucks you have to kill the guy.”

“I’ve already gotten this speech from Hongjoong,” you grumbled, crossing your arms over your chest and refusing to look at them. You didn’t feel like reliving the odd warm feelings you got around the prince, especially not at the expense of your brother.

“_____, who else would’ve ever given me some sort of help?” Mingi asked with a sad chuckle. “People like us don’t mean anything to anybody. Even San -- aristocrats and noblemen don’t give a shit about him. Prince Seonghwa is as high up as you can get, and he fucking knows who San is -- hell, he didn’t know me but he gave me money to--”

“What’s your point?” you burst, your tone dripping with annoyance.

“_____, I’ve never seen you so comfortable around somebody,” your brother admitted, his tone soft now, “not even with my friends. The way he looked at you, and the way you’d look at him... You can’t tell me you don’t feel anything for him.”

“Even if I did, it wouldn’t matter.”

“______, you and Mingi know better than anybody that there are always loopholes,” Seoyang scoffed.

“She just doesn’t want to admit that one of her targets broke her,” San smirked up at you. “Prince Seonghwa makes you feel something. You’ve met your match, _____.”

You glared daggers at San, your jaw clenching as your hands balled into fists, “Nobody has ever broken me before.”

“But now someone has.”

“No.”

“_____,” Mingi broke the intense standoff between you and his friend, “I know there’s nothing you can do about it. I understand that you have to do what you have to do. Besides, we need the rest of the money even more desperately now.”

“Good luck killing your fiance,” San mumbled under his breath as he went back to helping Mingi.

You let out a huff, turning sharply on your heel and stomping out of the house. You were angry, but it was for a few reasons.

You were angry because, despite how naive he was, Prince Seonghwa still helped your brother and saved his life.

You were angry because everybody loved Prince Seonghwa, but you still had to kill him to save yourself.

You were angry because San embarrassed you in front of Yeosang and your brother, basically calling you weak.

But most of all, you were angry because San was right. Seonghwa had gotten under your skin, and the last thing you wanted to do was to kill him. You just knew there wasn’t a way out. But that didn’t anger you.

That upset you.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Day 30; 12:29 -- 60 days until deadline.

"It’s been a whole damn month,” his uncle burst right after he had closed the door to your bedroom. You didn’t even look at his reflection as you sat at your vanity, brushing through your hair after you’d taken it down from its up-do. You’d already seen Prince Seonghwa today, so you were free to take it down now. “When will you do it?”

“Patience,” was all you replied with, letting out a sigh afterwards.

“I didn’t pay you to come live some luxurious life in the castle, you stupid girl,” he hissed. “Do your job or--”

“Or you’ll kill me?” you guessed, finally glancing over at him in your mirror, eyebrows raised. “I’m aware. However, if I were to kill him before the wedding, people would immediately assume somebody on the inside arranged it. Do you know how little sense it would make for a bride-to-be to murder her husband before getting the benefits?”

“But then you will be suspected if you do it closer,” he pointed out.

You scoffed, turning to face him, “With the money you’re giving me, I plan on leaving the kingdom immediately. I may be suspected, but nobody will find me. That would also take the blame off of you, so it’s a win/win.”

His uncle narrowed his eyes, slowly stalking toward you, “You don’t have feelings for that boy, do you?”

“You’ve asked me that already, and you’re dumb for assuming the answer has cha--”

You felt a cold hand tighten around your throat, making you gasp as your airways were cut off. The man yanked you up from your seat, leaning down to get in you face as you gripped and clawed at his hand and arm.

“Never speak down to me like that,” he growled. “I’m well above you, girl, and I refuse to be spoken to like that from some grungy towns girl who makes a living from doing the dirty work of others. You may be playing the part of a prince’s bride, but you are nothing more than a street rat. Do I make myself clear?”

You nodded as best as you could with a hand around your neck.

His uncle released his grip, having you stumbling back and catching yourself on the vanity. You caught your breath as he stalked back toward the door, grumbling to himself some more. When he put his hand on the handle, he looked back to you again, his icy glare cold enough to send a shiver down your spine -- and you’d never been afraid before.

Then again, you’d never been unsure if you’d finish a job before.

“You kill him, or I kill you,” was all he said before he opened the door and left.

His uncle walked quickly down the seemingly empty hallway, not noticing the guard hiding behind a large potted plant.

Hongjoong stepped out from his hiding place, having heard everything. Like you, he could easily tell a lie from the truth, and from what he had overheard, he knew you were in big trouble.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Day 36; 14:02 -- 54 days until deadline.

Between the work Seonghwa had to do, you and him were a little active in the wedding planning. It was mostly his uncle planning things as far as you knew, but you did get to pick out colors, flowers, and things that didn’t require you to do much other than to give a short answer. Today, though, you and Seonghwa got to taste cakes for the first time, which excited you. You knew they were from San’s bakery -- thankfully, you wouldn’t have to see the brat himself -- so you knew they’d all be wonderful.

All kinds of small cakes were set on display in the dining room, filling the long table. You and Seonghwa went and tasted each one together, making small talk as you tried all the different flavors.

“What do you do with all of these cakes after?” you wondered after you’d swallowed your most recent bite of cake.

“I have them delivered to the homeless or the orphans,” he told you. “I certainly don’t need them, and I don’t want to just throw them out.

All you could do was silently curse him for being so perfect.

You stopped at the next cake, turning to face Seonghwa, “What made you want to get your cake from a commoner’s bakery? Aren’t there plenty of places that are more...suited for...”

Seonghwa laughed in amusement at your lack for words, but he nodded, knowing what you were trying to ask, “There are, but I’ve loved that bakery since I was a child.”

“Really?” you asked, genuinely surprised by his answer.

He nodded again, gently stabbing into the next cake with his fork, “When I was younger, I would sneak out of the castle and go into town. I’d always go to the bakery for a snack back when it was San’s parents running it.”

“How did you ever manage to get out of the castle?”

“My parents were much more lenient than my uncle is.”

That was really all the explanation you needed. However, you didn’t expect Seonghwa to be one to sneak out. You thought Seonghwa was just always perfect.

You and Seonghwa each took a bite from this cake, savoring the flavor to see if it was ‘the one’. You both just looked at each other while you chewed, nodding slowly. The problem with San’s cakes were that they were all really delicious.

Seonghwa put a hand in front of his mouth to speak, “Have you tried on wedding dresses yet?”

The question took you by surprise even though you were in the dining room tasting wedding cakes. The dress was one of the most important parts of a wedding, and yet, you’d forgotten about having to try on dresses. You weren’t sure why the thought of putting on white dresses to get married in made your heart race.

But then you reminded yourself you weren’t actually getting married, and you were surprised by the small bit your heart fell.

“I haven’t yet, no,” you replied, swiping your tongue along your lips to get any frosting you missed.

When Seonhwa’s mouth was empty of food, he removed his hand to show off the same brilliant smile you’ve seen for the last month. It amazed you how even now, seeing him smile was like seeing it for the first time. You didn’t understand how he could look so perfect.

“I can’t wait to see you in your dress,” he admitted shyly, his eyes finding the floor rather than your own. “After seeing you in your nightgown, it’s all I can think about. I know it’s not nearly as nice, but it’s a white dress and you still looked beautiful in it. I can’t imagine how beautiful you’ll look in a real wedding dress.”

Something you were starting to not like was how flustered you were easily getting now. It seemed like your cheeks would heat up at any little thing Seonghwa said, and he always saw it and pointed it out. You quickly bowed your head to try to hide your blushing face, but the fact your hair was curled and pinned away from your face didn’t help, and Seonghwa’s fond chuckle was clear indication that he had definitely taken notice of your blush.

“Areum,” Seonghwa softly sang your name as he put the crook of his finger under your chin and made you look at him. He smiled in amusement, though, and you weren’t sure at what until his thumb swiped against the corner of your lips. “You have some frosting on your face.”

Without even a second thought, he sucked the pad of his thumb, cleaning the frosting from his skin. His eyes didn’t leave yours, crinkled and twinkling from the smile still on his face. Even after he’d put his arm down, Seonghwa was still staring into your eyes, hypnotizing you to look back.

There was no warning. Seonghwa didn’t even look around to see if anybody was looking as he dipped his head down, lightly pressing his lips to yours in a sweet but short kiss. His hand had gone up to cup your cheek, feeling the burn of your skin as your eyes widened feeling his lips against yours. When he pulled away, he was all smiles. He even chuckled softly seeing how surprised you looked.

Your heart was fluttering in your chest.

“Seonghwa!” the familiar voice of his uncle broke the sweet moment.

Still, you didn’t look away from Seonghwa as his uncle began scolding him for kissing you before the wedding. Seonghwa was even laughing, rolling his eyes as he lowered his hand and turned to tell his uncle to calm down.

“Good Lord, you’re impossible to control!” his uncle sighed in exasperation.

All you could focus on was how your lips still felt warm and tingly. You couldn’t explain why you wanted to feel his lips kiss yours again.

228 notes · View notes

dontdoitluke · 5 years

Text

We Could Be Heroes - Ch 3

Sky High AU, but instead, it’s a superhero University.

Summary: It’s the weekend, and the gang decides to have a movie night. Luke brings one (1) string cheese, something mildly catastrophic happens, and Michael becomes a mother.

Chapter: 3/?

CHAPTER INDEX

Word Count: 2,662

Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!!

Tags: @calumamongmen @myloverboyash @wildhearthood @vintagehoods @lukescherrypie @burncrashbromance @dukesnumber1 @calsophat @kindahoping4forever @lockthisheartinchains @babylon-corgis @lfwallscouldtalk @badguycal

It had been about a month into the semester and the Pablo’s group had grown to be close friends, even Jenna and Luke, who continued to attack each other on a daily basis. Movie night had also become a regular thing for them; they would all meet up on Saturday night in one of their dorms with snacks and drinks and pick a movie on one of their streaming accounts. Tonight, movie night was held in Michael’s dorm.

Michelle was the first one to arrive. It was an unspoken rule that whenever it was just Michelle and Michael, they communicated telepathically due to Michael’s inability to turn off his power, so instead of knocking, she directed her thoughts at him to let him know she was here. He opened the door with a smile and ushered her inside.

“You can put that stuff on my desk,” Michael thought, and moved his laptop and books to the side. Michelle sat the bag down on the clear spot and smiled. “I hope you like Takis, because that’s what I brought.”

“I’ve never had them, but I’m sure I’ll love them. Any idea when the rest of the nerds are going to get here?” Michael wondered. Michelle kicked her shoes off by the door and hummed in thought, pulling her long hair off of her neck and wrapping it into a bun at the top of her head. “I haven’t heard much. Val is currently trying to devise a plan to get Calum to carry her over in his stomach, I’m assuming Ally and Emma are still at the store, I can hear them mentally complaining about the price of gas station candy, Jen just texted me to let me know she’s on her way, and Carly is...right outside.”

Sure enough, a soft knock at the door confirmed that Carly was indeed right outside. Michael opened the door to let her in, greeted her, and pointed to the desk for her to put her things down.

“I brought homemade Sangria!” She sang, proudly pulling a half gallon jug out of her backpack and swirling the red wine and fruit around. “I may end up drinking all of this myself, not gonna lie.”

Before Michelle could threaten to banish Carly from movie night for not sharing, Luke, Ashton, and Jenna entered the room, followed by another girl, one that Michael, Michelle, and Carly had never met.

“I found a stray, I hope it’s alright that I brought her,” Jenna said, moving to stand next to the girl. “This is Viv, she’s in my combat training class, and she’s an absolute badass.”

“Geez, you’re gonna make me blush, stop it,” Viv covered her face and laughed. “I just...use a lot of dirty tricks and dodging.”

“They’re unexpected methods. That’s smart,” Michael gushed, throwing a black bedsheet over his futon. “Ally and Emma are here, can one of you guys open the door?”

Luke turned the knob and swung the door open just as Emma went to knock; she ended up knocking on Luke’s chest instead.

“Woah, now, I’ve had girls try to get into my heart in many different ways, but politely knocking is a new one.”

Michelle and Jenna gagged and shoved Luke out of the way to let Emma and Ally through while Ashton quietly started arranging the snacks and drinks on the desk. Ally joined him and opened her bag, setting out the candies she’d bought and multiplied.

“You’re quiet today, more than usual, I mean. Is everything okay, Ash?” she asked quietly so as not to draw attention from the rest of the group, or the ones that don’t have supersonic hearing, anyway.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not.”

Ashton turned and looked down at Ally, furrowing his brows in anger and growled, “Oh, so you’re gonna tell me what I am, now? You’re gonna ask me if I’m okay, then call me a liar?”

Unphased by the outburst, she nodded once. “Yes. I am. I know an automatic answer when I hear it.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but then closed it again and inhaled deeply, clenched his jaw, and turned back to the desk, fiddling with one of the bags of chips that Michelle brought.

“I’ll...be okay. I’m just aggravated today, is all. Some personal issues about my power. I don’t really want to talk about it right now. But maybe later, when we don’t about to have a room full of people. Okay?”

“Okay.” Ally placed her hand on top of Ashton’s and squeezed gently, hoping to calm him down a little more. She learned pretty quickly that he had a hard time controlling his temper; he almost brought down the gazebo in the university courtyard with a spastic earthquake simply because one of the third years accidentally stepped on his heel.

“Don’t keep things bottled up for too long, though.”

“Yeah, yeah, I got you.”

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- “So, is this everything?”

“I think so.”

“Yeah, I brought some paper plates too, just in case.”

“Wait, Luke, what did you bring?”

Luke hesitated a moment before patting and searching his pockets. He made a happy sound in the back of his throat when he found what he was looking for in the pocket of his S.A.V.E.U. hoodie, reached in, and pulled out a single stick of string cheese.

“Luke, what the fuck?”

“Hey, I didn’t get the chance to go buy something. Besides, Ally can just make more, right?”

Ally scoffed and crossed her arms. “You think you can just use me and my power like that? Is that all you think I’m good for? How dare you treat me like-you know what, fuck yeah, I love string cheese, gimme that.”

She snatched the packaged cheese out of his hand and moved to the table to get to work on duplicating the snack while the rest of the group howled with laughter, all except Michael who was near tears and desperately trying to fuse his headphones to his ears.

“I’m going to kick every last one of you out if you don’t learn to turn down the volume.”

Calum bit his lip and stuck his hands in his pockets. “Shit, Mike. Sorry, we keep forgetting, you’re usually okay with it if you have the plugs in, too.”

“Yeah, but we usually aren’t in small spaces like this, either. The last few movie nights we had were bad, too.”

“Man...and you haven’t made any progress with it? Dulling the sound, I mean?”

Michael shook his head sadly and turned to the TV to set up his cables. “It’s whatever. Can we move on, now?” -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“So, let me get this straight...you can tie and untie shoelaces.”

“Yep.”

“But not like, other kinds of rope.”

“Nope.”

“Just...just shoelaces.”

“Yep.”

Viv popped a few pieces of popcorn into her mouth and shrugged. “I’m not mad about it, though. It’s completely useless and I like it that way. I don’t want to have an extravagant power.”

Luke tossed back the rest of the sangria in his cup and hummed. “I could see how that could be useful, like, if someone is robbing a bank and you-”

“Don’t give my power any kind of usefulness!” Viv giggled and shook her head. “I really do like having a useless power. It means I won’t be volunteered to do things I don’t want to do.”

“God, that’s such a mood,” Val sighed.

“What about your power, Ally?” Viv tilted her head. “What else can you duplicate? Aside from food, I mean.”

Ally hummed and chewed thoughtfully on a piece of chocolate. “I haven’t really thought about it. I mean I know I can do inanimate objects. And I can do plants. That’s really useful on Valentine's Day. I think I can duplicate anything as long as it isn’t too big. I tried making another bicycle once...that didn’t turn out well.”

“What about people?”

“Hm?”

“Can you clone people?”

“You know, I’ve never thought about it, and I’ve never tried it. I don’t think I can.”

“I’d clone myself a Calum that would actually be willing to swallow me,” Val chirped, and Calum groaned in disgusted response. “Please stop, I’m not gonna fucking eat you.”

“Eating implies digesting. I just wanna hang out in your gut for a little bit.”

“Jesus...”

Viv shrugged. “Could always try it now.”

Ally snorted into her cup and coughed. “You’ve gotta be kidding!”

“I mean how else are you gonna know if you can clone people if you don’t try it?”

“Uh, I don’t think it’s such a good idea, and I’m usually all for bad ideas,” Luke squeaked. “I mean, it’s a person we’re talking about.”

“For once, I actually have to agree with Luke,” Jenna balled up an empty chip bag and threw it into the waste basket. “It’s one thing to test your power out on, like, a rock or something, it’s another to test it on a person.”

“You test your power out on me all the time, Nerf Gun.”

“You’re not a person in my eyes, Fluke.”

“Guys, shh, Michael is sleeping, please don’t wake him,” Skyler whispered. Sure enough, Michael was curled up in the corner of his bed with a pillow over his head. “Poor thing barely gets enough sleep as it is.”

“Test it on Michael. He’s asleep, he won’t notice,” Ashton mumbled.

“I can’t do that!” Ally sputtered. “First of all, that’s just rude, second-”

“For real, what’s the worst that could happen? What happened with your failed duplicates?”

“The duplicate just came out deformed. But Michael is a living person, he could get hurt.”

“He could also end up okay.”

"Jesus, fine!” Ally hissed and stood up, storming over to Michael’s sleeping form and thrust her hands out in front of her, placing them on his hip. She stood there for a moment in silence, the rest of the group watched anxiously for something to happen.

“Is it...uh...”

“I’m trying.”

A few seconds passed and not a word was spoken and everyone began to fidget nervously.

Carly stood and took a few slow steps toward Ally and placed her hand on her shoulder. “Okay, so it doesn’t work and Michael is okay, let’s go back...to...uh, you’re burning up...are you-”

“I-I can’t...move...it hurts...”

Viv jumped up and rushed to Ally and Carly. She grabbed a hold of one of Ally’s arms and attempted to pull her away from Michael, but she wouldn’t move. It was as if she was made of stone and fused to the ground.

“Shit, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have told you to do this!”

“I can’t...I can’t stop. H-help!”

Calum, Val, Luke, and Michelle also stood and began to try to pull Ally’s hands away. Ashton sat, frozen in place and eyes wide, brimming with tears. “My fault...it’s my fault...”

Emma grabbed his face in her hands and forced him to look away from the group trying to pull Ally away from Michael. “Hey, hey, calm down, this isn’t your fault, you and Viv made a suggestion but Ally made the decision, it’s no one's fault and it’s definitely not yours, it-Ashton, no, look at me! You’re making the walls shake again, you need to breathe.”

Even with the combined cacophony of the friends struggling to stop Ally and the brick walls vibrating, Michael was still seemingly asleep. Michelle ripped the pillow off of his head to check his breathing.

“Michael’s okay, Ally. Please, try to focus, you need to focus!”

Ally shut her eyes tightly and sobbed, desperately trying to pull herself away from his body.

“Let me try something!” Skyler stepped to the side and put her hand on Michael next to Ally’s and conjured a forcefield, wedging it into the spot where they were connected. Almost instantaneously, Ally’s hand disconnected from Michael’s hip and she fell backwards into Michelle and Luke. Michael sat up and glared at Ally angrily.

“What the fuck were you just trying to do to me? I couldn’t fucking move, or talk, or anything!”

Panting softly, Ally hung her head. “I-I was...I’m sorry, I-”

“It was my fault,” Viv cut her off. “I suggested that she try duplicating a person, and-”

“And you guys decided that I was the best candidate?”

Ashton made a pained noise in the back of his throat and wiped the tears off of his cheeks. “No, I did. I’m so sorry Mike.”

Michael looked at every person in the room before sighing and rubbing his eyes. “It’s...it’s okay. I’m okay. Are you okay, Ally?”

She slowly nodded, sniffling softly.

“Just don’t ever do that shit again.”

“Guys...”

Michael moved to help Ally off of the floor and used his sleeve to wipe tears off of her cheeks.

“Hey, guys?”

“Are you sure you’re okay, Michael?” Calum asked softly.

“Guys!”

“What, Luke?!”

“What the fuck is that?”

The group turned to look under the desk where Luke was pointing. Next to Michael’s backpack was a fleshy pulsating mound about the size and shape of a crudely made rag doll.

“Is Emma trying to prank us again?”

“I’m right here, you dick.”

“Then what is that thing?!”

The fleshy doll-like thing began to take an even more coherent shape, its tiny stub arms began to grow hands and its head began to grow ears. A slit in its face opened up to form a mouth, and two different sized slits opened and a pair of eyes the exact same color as Michael’s peeped back at the group. No one said a word, and no one moved. The tiny being stood on its little feet and took a couple of steps toward Michael and looked up, twisting its little mouth into what could be perceived as a smile, and spoke in a scratchy, throaty voice.

“Mmmahh, mmmm-Mickey!”

Luke jumped backward and let out such a high-pitched scream that the window and the TV screen cracked, and a mug on Michael’s desk broke cleanly in half.

“What the fuck, what the actual fuck??”

“Is that...Michael’s duplicate?” Emma whispered.

The alien-like being swayed back and forth with the weight of its head and blew raspberries at Michael. “Mickey! Am Mickey!”

Michael stood frozen, staring down at his clone with a horrified expression. “He...hello to you, too, Mickey...”

Mickey squealed with happiness and lifted its little arms.

“I think he wants you to pick him up.”

“I...o-okay...”

Michael shakily bent and took hold of Mickey and lifted him in his hands, holding him as far away from his body as he could.

“Gross...what does he feel like?”

“He feels like a...kinda like a newborn baby. Which I guess...that’s what he is, right?”

Ally had backed herself into a corner and rubbed her temples. She couldn’t believe she had actually cloned a person. It was a failed person, but it was still a person, and it sent a million thoughts running through her head. Michael slowly got used to holding Mickey; he sat on the edge of his bed and placed the little clone on his knee, turning his head and inspecting his different sized eyes and ears, his little fingerless hands, his crooked little smile. After the initial shock faded away, Michael even thought that he was kind of cute.

“So how do we get rid of it?”

Michael snapped his head up and glared at Luke. “You will do no such thing.”

Luke scoffed and cringed at Mickey. “But...it’s hideous.”

“So are you, but your mom didn’t get rid of you when you were born.”

“Oh, so now you’re it’s mom?”

Michael took a long look at Mickey, who was currently sucking on one of his hands and looking all around the room and smiling at each student.

“Yeah. I am.”

Ashton giggled for the first time in a while. “So that makes Ally his dad.”

Calum sighed and rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. He just wanted to have one normal movie night. Just one. Without any clone babies or Val begging him to swallow her. Was that too much to ask?

#HERE IT IS #CHAPTER THREEEEEEE #INTRODUCING VIV AND MICKEY #I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE IT #wcbh #5sos #5 seconds of summer

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fundeadasylum · 5 years

Text

Cold

More Micoverse because I love Micoverse. Cody-centric this time. The best boy deserves some love. Hurt/comfort. Very mild compared to my usual stuff.

------

It had already started raining by the time they'd picked their way back down from the upper floors. It was a cold, heavy spring rain that chilled the air and made their breath come out in puffs of steam. Thunder grumbled in the distance, threatening worse than a simple rain storm.

"We should get home," Cody peered through an empty window frame by the stairs, squinting to try and spot some lightning, maybe count the distance in mammals.

"But we didn't check out the basement yet!" Milo gestured to the heavy steel door, warped on its hinges and coated in rust.

"I told you, we can't, it's blocked off," Cody huffed out a cloud, rubbing his hands together, "And the stairs are supposed to be collapsed."

"Lame," Milo said, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his hoodie, "What were we supposed to find in this place anyway?"

"Mm? Oh, I dunno. The ghosts of the owners, I'd hoped," Cody tugged his cellphone from his pocket, frowning at the screen as he pulled up his notes, "Um, this used to be a bed and breakfast kind of place, off the beaten track, ya’ know. But then it was robbed and after that there was just a string of bad luck and the whole place went under. It's been untouched for ages. Nobody's even been murdered here but everyone says there's supposed to be ghosts in it."

"Aw, they say that about any abandon place," Milo kicked at the floor, making it groan agonizingly under his sneakers.

"Yeah, but there's supposed to be a curse on this place." Cody shot back, "Like, the longer you stay, the worse your luck gets until the house just. Kills you, I guess."

"My luck's already rotten," Milo sniffed, sullen and pouting now. He scrubbed at his nose with the sleeve of his hoodie and sniffed again. The house creaked against the wind as it settled further into its grave.

"Well I'd rather not push mine, thanks. Let's go."

Milo got the first syllable of a witty reply out when the boards under his feet cracked. He cast a terrified look at Cody and they both made a run for the door. The floor creaked, cracked, groaned and then, finally, buckled underneath them. Milo toppled forward as his legs flailed in the air and there was a sick thud as his skull cracked against the edge of the floorboards. Cody saw a flash of bright red before he was falling, the light from his cell phone spinning and strobing dizzyingly around them as they plunged into the darkness below.

Cody’s back hit the ground hard enough to knock the air from his lungs. He rolled onto his hands and knees, coughing and wheezing, spittle dripping out of his mouth as he tried to breathe again. The broken pieces of wood splintered on the floor around him, flinging pieces into the air, the sounds muffled by the ringing in his ears. By the time Cody had recovered enough to breathe properly and take in his surroundings, the only thing that could be heard was the steady downfall of rain and the rush of water leaking in from somewhere off in the dark.

"M-Milo...?"

No answer. Cody wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve and sat back on his knees, readjusting his glasses and trying to peer through the dark. He could make out dark shapes from the light still filtering in from the hole they'd fallen through and one of them looked distinctly like a crumpled and alarmingly still body.

"Milo! Milo, wake up!" He hurried over but hesitated, shaking hands hovering over his friend’s body. He remembered it could be dangerous to move someone who'd been hurt, could make things worse, could kill them. But he had to be sure Milo was okay, he had to check, and it would be better if he was flat on his back, right?

As gently as he could, Cody rolled Milo onto his back. It wasn’t pretty. Milo was out cold, blood leaking from the deep gash in his head, and he already looked ashen in the thin light. Cody pulled his jacket sleeve over his hand and pressed it against the cut before he looked up and around for something that could help. His bag was upstairs by the front door and who knew where his phone had landed when they’d fallen down into what could only have been the blocked off basement. Which meant they were trapped.

Panic started to sink its teeth into Cody’s chest and he tried to keep a cool head, taking deep breaths and focusing on the chill already seeping into his bones from the cold around him. There were other options, there had to be other options, he could get them both out of here, he just had to think about it.

Milo! Milo had a cellphone!

Using his free hand, Cody pawed at Milo’s jeans pocket and managed to tug the phone free. He pressed the home key, eyes already narrowed as he expected the light of the screen to blind him. But nothing happened. Cody frantically hit the button again and again, eventually holding the power button to see if it had been turned off. The logo showed up and he felt a brief surge of hope. Only to have it come crashing down in a wave of icy panic as an empty battery symbol flashed on the screen before the phone went dark again.

“Miillllooooo,” Cody slumped over his friend, sending an exasperated look at the other boy’s slack face, “Why don’t you ever charge your phone, man, come on!” He cast about for his own missing device again, chewing on his lip, “Shoot. Okay. I—I gotta try and find my phone, okay Milo? I’ll be—I’ll be right back, I swear. I just gotta—we need to call for help. I’ll be right back.”

With a grimace, Cody peeled his jacket sleeve away from Milo’s head. The wound still looked raw and nasty but the bleeding didn’t seem as bad. Cody shook his sleeve out, wincing at the sticky feel on his skin, and darted off into the dark to try and find his phone. He dropped to his hands and knees, peering at the ground, patting the cold cement under his hands until his fingers went numb. The basement was getting darker, the rain coming in harder, the thunder getting louder as the storm rolled in over top of them. Cody’s frantic searching increased, his breath coming quicker as he fought down the panic trying to overtake him. His eyes burned and he blinked furiously, refusing to cry, his hands shaking with cold and emotion as he tripped over his own feet, struggling to find his way.

He was only a few feet away from Milo when he splashed into icy water.

Cody jerked back with a yelp of surprise, the knees of his pants and the sleeves of his coat already soaked. The rain must have been leaking into the basement, forming puddles across the floor. With another frown at his circumstances, Cody turned back the way he’d come and continued his search for his phone.

It turned out to be resting face down in a pile of wood in the other direction. Cody tugged it free and thumbed the screen, heart pounding in his chest. The weak flicker it gave him in return did little to boost his confidence but it still worked, it still turned on.

The screen was shattered.

It barely registered his touch and he swore he could feel splinters of glass slicing into the tips of his fingers and thumbs every time he tried to press on it. Or maybe that was just the cold taking up residence in his flesh.

The cold.

If he was already this cold, then Milo must have been freezing. He was laying motionless on the cement, exposed to the droplets of rain already pitter-pattering through the hole in the floor above. Cody stuffed his damaged phone into his pocket and hurried back to his friend. Milo still hadn’t moved, his breathing shallow, his face smeared in red. Cody hesitated again and then crouched down, hooked his hands under Milo’s arms, and heaved, dragging him backwards across the floor until his back bumped into a cold wall. Then he settled down, legs outstretched, and awkwardly positioned Milo on top of him so that his friend’s head was in his lap and his body was resting mostly on Cody’s legs and off the floor. It wasn’t much and Cody was sure his legs were going to fall asleep but it would have to do. He had to take care of Milo until help could arrive.

Leaning back against the wall, he pulled his phone out again and set about trying to navigate through the broken screen. It was frustrating and laborious and more than once he wanted to scream at the difficulty of it. His fingers were sore and the cold was making him shiver by the time he managed to get to his text app. The rain was a heavy drum beating relentlessly against the building. Cody could hear something splashing deeper in the dark of the basement.

It took even longer for him to type out a message to his dad,

Sent (3:27pm): sos Sent (3:29pm): trap in home 7561 steer dr Sent (3:32pm): floor broke n milo bleed Sent (3:33pm) sos

He took a moment to collect himself, swallowing tears past the sticky rock of fear and helplessness that was choking in his throat. He rested a hand against Milo’s neck, felt his friend’s pulse under his sore fingertips, watched the shallow rise and fall of Milo’s chest. Blood had oozed down the side of Milo’s face and stained Cody’s jeans. That was the least of his worries.

Bracing himself for another arduous task, Cody picked up his phone again and navigated to the dialer. His hands were shaking as he pressed the numbers into the flickering screen.

“Nine-one-one operator. What is your emergency?”

Cody drew in a shuddering breath, his free hand clutching at Milo’s signature hoodie, “M-my friend and I are--are stuck. Trapped.” He choked. Saying it out loud was somehow so much harder than just texting it to his dad. His eyes burned and he tried to blink the tears away but they fell this time, hot against the cold skin of his face, “W-we’re stuck. P-please, the f-floor broke--we can’t g-g-get back up. He’s hurt--I can’t--”

“It’s all right. Take a deep breath. Can you tell me your name?”

“Cody. C-Cody Bridges. A-and Milo--my friend is M-Milo Sumney J-Junior.”

Okay, Cody, can you tell me where you are?”

“S-s-seven--” His voice hitched and he took a couple of breaths to try and force the words out. His back was starting to hurt where he’d hit the cement floor, “Seven f-five...seven five six one, um, Steer D-d-drive. The--the old h-house--B’n’B--the f-floor broke, we were just--we were--” He hiccuped, tears running faster down his face. Because in all the times he and Milo had poked around abandoned buildings, of all the splinters and bruised shins and scraped elbows, they had never been stuck like this before.

“Cody, take a deep breath for me. Let it out slowly. Good.” The person on the phone was calm, centered, grounding and Cody latched onto their voice like a lifeline, “Keep breathing, Cody, you’re doing a good job. Help is no its way to you now. I need you to stay on the line for me, okay? Can you do that?”

Cody nodded, remembered the operator couldn’t see him, and let out a breathy, “Yeah. Yes. I can do that.” He looked down at Milo, tears smearing his vision as he sniffed, “M-my friend--Milo’s knocked out. Please h-hurry. He hit his h-h-head really hard.”

“Is he still breathing?”

“Yeah. I m-moved him th-though. It was t-too cold on the floor.”

“Milo sounds like he’s lucky to have a good friend like you.”

Cody was about to respond when something wet and cold soaked into his jeans. He worried for a moment that maybe he had been hurt after all and was only just now noticing the injury. But when he looked down, the panic that had been slowly easing in his chest sank its claws into him all over again, ripping open his racing heart and letting a cry of fear escape him.

“There’s water!” He shouted into the phone, trying to shift away from the expanding lake lapping against his leg, “Th-the rain is flooding the basement! You gotta hurry! Please!”

“Help is coming, Cody, but I need you to try and stay calm. Is there anything tall that you can climb up on?”

Cody tried to shift around to look but it was too dark and he didn’t dare leave Milo alone when the water was creeping up on them so rapidly. He told the operator so, a fresh wave of tears choking his words, his hands shaking from cold and fear. A crash of thunder, so loud and so clearly overhead that it was a wonder he hadn’t heard it sooner, made him jolt. He slammed against the wall, whimpering as the pain jolted him, and the phone slipped from his numb fingers. It cracked against the cement and went out faster than a candle in the wind, vanishing into the rising water.

A sob choked Cody’s throat and he pulled Milo closer to him, using all the strength in his cold limbs to heave his friend up against him, letting Milo’s head rest on his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around Milo and drew his knees up, openly crying as the cold seeped into his bones and the rain pounded around them. Another boom of thunder had him ducking his face into Milo’s hoodie, his breath coming so rapidly it made his head spin. Water seeped into his shoes, soaking his socks and nipping at his ankles.

“CODY!”

A familiar voice made him look up. Through the gloom and panic, he could just about make out the figure of his dad, hovering near the edge of the hole.

“Dad!” His voice cracked, “Dad, we’re down here!”

Lights flashed behind Dominic and he looked over his shoulder. There was distant shouting that was quickly muffled by another boom of thunder. Cody was shaking so hard he swore he could hear his own teeth rattling in his skull. Then Dominic vanished from sight, stepping back as flashlight beams swung through the air.

“DAD!” Cody cried, “DAD COME BACK! DAD, DON’T LEAVE ME HERE!”

“Cody Bridges?” An unfamiliar voice, an unfamiliar figure. They crouched over the hole, aiming a flashlight down into the basement, “My name’s Lilly Meyer. Me and my team are going to get you out of there but I need your help, okay? Can you come over to the hole?”

“N-no! I can’t leave M-Milo!” He was still crying, gasping in uncontrollable sobs, clutching Milo so the rest of the world wouldn’t tear away his best and only friend, “Where’s my daddy!? B-bring my d-d-dad back!”

“Cody, I need you to breathe, okay honey? Deep breaths. We’ll get you out of there and you can see your dad again. He’s got to stay back for his own safety right now though. My team’s going to come down and get you and your friend out,” Cody couldn’t see it but he could hear the reassuring smile in her voice,

“It’s going to be okay, Cody. I promise.”

And it was. At least to the extent that such a scenario could be okay.

Cody was shivering and soaked to the bone and heaving desperate breaths choked with tears. As soon as the team had pulled him up from the hole, he rushed into Dominic’s waiting arms, burying his face in the man’s chest and openly sobbing. His dad fretted, he always fretted, his hands and voice shaking as he pulled Cody close and ran a hand through his sopping hair. He was warm, in that moment, the warmest, kindest, gentlest person Cody had ever been around and Cody would have given almost anything to make that sensation of safety and security and love last for the rest of his life.

But eventually they had to separate. Cody still held his dad’s hand on the way to the hospital, sniffling in the back of the ambulance while the paramedics checked on the unconscious Milo. He held his hand while the doctor’s looked him over, held his hand while Jake and Dan came bursting into the room looking fit to cry themselves, held his hand until he fell asleep like that, leaning against his dad, the voices and noises of the hospital washing over him.

Milo had a concussion and managed to catch himself a nice little case of bronchitis and a severe scolding from his dads. Cody ended up with a fever and nasty bruises on his back. Both of them were grounded for two weeks.

#micoverse

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b-beeprichie · 6 years

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Eddie Is Spider-Man pt 2 ????

Title: Killer Clowns From Outer Space

Paring: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier

A/N: this is a drabble i found in my notes from awhile back, it’s connected to this one. there’s no real rhyme or reason i wrote this, i just really love marvel and the idea of eddie being spider-man??? anyway a couple ppl wanna see it, so here ya go. should i turn this into a series of some sort?? it’s un-beta’d and all that jazz, but at least it’s not hiding in my notes anymore! sorry for all the mistakes!

Warnings: Blood, Evil Toddler Clowns

Since teaming up with the Avengers became a somewhat regular thing, Eddie's discovered that bad guys come in all different shapes and sizes.

There's the usual petty theft criminals that Eddie honestly misses at times like these.

Why can't anyone simply rob a bank these days?

Or commit a mugging?

There are plenty of old ladies with oversized purses just begging to be snatched from unsuspecting liver spotted hands, it’s a real travesty.

Instead now everyone has mutant powers, the technology to blow Eddie through a building, or both. The bad guys are growing more advanced, more dangerous. Including these nasty, drooling, toddler sized clowns.

They wreak havoc throughout downtown, massive heads with extendable jaws, snapping viciously at anything that comes within reach.

Eddie will never look at the circus the same way again. "Guys?" Eddie called out to the nearby Avengers. "I don't know how much longer I can hold these things off, they’re chewing through my web like it's cotton candy and they have no respect for dental hygiene." Eddie bundled another group of clowns together, sticking them to any and every surface. They’re fast, even Captain America is having trouble keeping up with them, snatching one off his back and smacking it into a wall with his shield were it landed with a disgusting splat.

Oh yeah, they exploded into blood red slime, this was literally the stuff from nightmares. "I-I don't know w-where they're coming from." Cap said in frustration, only stuttering when things were going down hill.

From the way one of the clowns was currently trying it’s best to chew its way through Georgie's metal arm, things were going downhill fast.

Who knew they would need all hands on deck for small army of clowns.

At least Hulk was enjoying himself, stomping viciously on the redheaded critters, flinging slime every which direction with giant green fist. It never failed to surprise Eddie that the massive green Hulk in front of him, who was having far too much fun literally stomping demonic toddler clowns to death, was Mike Hanson. The same man who sat in a lab with him pouring over different scientific formulas. Eddie's life is so so weird. He's in the middle of rescuing a family trapped inside a car when a boot clad figure dressed in red drops down on the hood.

"Spidey, you didn't tell me Ronald McDonald had kids! You know morally, morally I can't hurt kids." Deadpool jumped off the car, katanas pulled out of their sheaths. "But I think I can make an exception for these squirmy clown fucks."

Things end very quickly after that, child sized body parts go flying as the herd of clowns Eddie had previously contained broke free and swarmed the remaining Avengers. It's a bloody massacre, Eddie's jaw is dropped in both shock and amazement as Richie sliced unnaturally fast through clowns starting burst after burst of exploding clown slime. By the time Richie is finished every clown is dead except for the one Captain America managed to capture.

The entire team is covered in thick blood red gunk. Including the family inside the car, windshield wipers starting up almost comically except for the fact it was smearing clown slime out the way. The kids inside are going to need therapy for the intense phobia of clowns they're most likely to develop after this.

"Fuck yeah, fuck yeah, fuck yeah! Did you SEE the shit." Richie grinns behind his mask and walks over to Eddie.

Eddie is covered in clown slime, he can feel it clinging to his suit, thick and gelatinous. He wants to throw up, oh god he's actually going to throw up. Life's hard when you're both a hypochondriac AND a superhero, this has happened more times than Eddie would like to admit. Some things didn’t go away with the bite, and his fear of germs and questionable substances is one of them. He’s working on it.

Eddie lifts the bottom of his mask, just enough so he's not blowing chunks inside the suit. The thought alone makes him gag even more, choking on the smell. He's taking the world's longest shower after this, and a nice long walk or two through one of Stanley's decontamination chambers. "Oh no, Spaghetti!" There's a gloved hand on his back rubbing gentle circles low on his spine, a little too low. "Are you seriously trying to cop a feel right now!" Eddie yelps, spitting the remaining bile out and swatting away Richies wandering hands. Only it's too late, when Eddie stands up to pull his mask back down the rest of the Avengers are standing around with various expressions of what the fuck. "Come on Spidey you know I can't keep my hands off you, have you seen you." "I'm literally vomiting!!" Captain America coughs loudly, and when Eddie looks over Iron man is standing next to him with his face plate drawn up. "Deadpool." Bill said sternly, which was much nicer that what Stan follows up with. "What is he doing here." Stan said pointedly.

It’s ridiculous how sassy and disappointed a red and gold metal suit can look. "Uhhh..." Eddie started, honestly not sure how to answer that question. What was Richie doing here?

"You didn't tell them about us?! This is no way for me to meet your dads! Look at them!" Richie gestured vaguely in the teams direction.

"Wait, you guys are together?" Hawkeye pointed between the both of them. Eddie wanted to die, he was covered in clown slime and sweat, everything smelled like vomit, he needed to shower, and now the Avengers thought he was dating a wanted criminal. "No!" Eddie shouted both hands up in defense. "I don't even know this guy!" Richie gasped dramatically, and okay that was a lie. "I mean I know him! But not like that, he's been following me! But we're NOT together!" Eddie turned towards Deadpool. "And they're not my dads, we're the same age! Except for Captain, hes old enough to be all our dads, but he's not our dad!" "He's been following you." Black Widow chose to speak up, all of the Avengers taking a defensive stance.

Richie takes a step back, sticking his katanas back into place. "Well this little family meeting has been nice and all but I gotta blow this popsicle stand. I hate clowns you know, very terrifying. This whole ordeal has been very traumatic for me and that’s really saying something, I've been through a lot." A large hand palmed the top of Eddie's head, and for moment his heart stops thinking Richie would pull off his mask. Instead Richie kissed the top of his head, making Eddie flush and shove away from him.

Richie laughs in response, running off into the slowly forming crowd.

"Should I go get him?" Ben questioned, crossbow aimed and ready to fire at what Eddie believes to be Richie’s ass.

Bill held up his hand and pinched the bridge of his nose, a sign to both hold off and express frustration.

"No, b-but you." He pointed at Eddie. "We need to have a serious conversation later, you're going to tell us everything."

Eddie whined but nodded.

Fucking Deadpool.

Fucking killer clowns.

#eddie is spiderman??#marvel/IT crossover #eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier #It (2017)#fanfiction #reddie #should i continue?

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cavaliant · 6 years

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Fic: Fergus reuniting with his father

Wordcount: 1385

Warnings: None really? Allusions to death I guess, and also injury used in an analogy.

Notes: I stayed up past 6 am writing this so like. If I missed something re: proofreading, whoops? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Also sorry if Beo’s voice is off I looked at his script lines but this is my first time writing him--

Askr isn’t a bad place, all things considered. Sure, it’s a strange land, but it’s got castles and towns and people just like anywhere else. He’s somehow managed to get roped into an army once again, but hey. They get food and beds and weapons and clothes, so it’s not like he’s complaining. He’s even managed to run into people he knows—Leif, for one. Karin, for another, who’s currently walking ahead of him chewing his head off about something-or-other again. To be honest, he stopped paying attention about five sentences ago, but she doesn’t seem to have noticed yet.

He doesn’t know what makes him look up—maybe he’s looking for a distraction from Karin’s ranting. Maybe it’s just random chance. Either way, what he sees when he looks up will be burned into his memory forever, even if he doesn’t come close to believing his own eyes after a double- or even a triple-take.

He’s twenty-three years old. He’s been through one war and now he’s here in another, a fully-grown man of his own making. He’s not a little boy anymore, screaming in delight as his father throws him up in the air. He’s not a little child anymore, clinging to his father’s leg and begging him not to go.

And yet. The mere sight of that blond hair, that broad back, those strong shoulders which once carried him so high above the rest of the world—the merest glimpse slams into him like a punch in the gut, robbing him of breath, words, even thought as his steps stumble over the stone floor. The slip sends him banging into Karin, and she spins around with her mouth already open, no doubt ready to berate him. Something in his expression must give her pause, though, because instead of yelling at him like she normally would she only gives him the most peculiar stare.

“What’s wrong, you big oaf?” she asks, squinting up at him. “Did you hit your head or something?”

Fergus doesn’t answer. He barely even hears the words. How could he, when that man, his father, is right there across the hall? How could his world not shrink to a single point, a kaleidoscope of all the things he’s missed the most, a microcosm of his entire universe here, now.

He wants to move. He wants—wants with an intensity he hasn’t let himself feel since he was fourteen years old, alone on the streets shivering in too-small clothes, wishing with all his might that his father was still with him. That he could be even half as strong as his father was. That he could know, somehow, if he was making the right choices, if his father would be proud of him—and now, here he is. Twenty-three years old with his breath frozen in his lungs, rooted to the spot because he’s afraid to see if that figure still standing there will live up to his memories. If the man will not even know him—or worse, that he will, and he’ll find his son lacking. That he’ll be disappointed in the man his son has become.

Karin is saying something again, but his feet are already moving of their own volition. His body lurches forwards like a marionette, dragged in by the gravity of the man who was once his entire world. In this instant, he’s four again, six, nine, fourteen—that little boy who wished with all his heart that he would get to see his father again. His father turns, one eyebrow raised, eyes widening slightly as they catch sight of him, and that single look is enough to gut him all over again, to slash him wide open and let his heart bleed out all over the floor.

“Dad,” he finally manages, words scraped raw as they’re dragged out of his throat.

“Who—” his father says, and Fergus’ heart sinks like a stone but of course, of course, the last time his father saw him was at six years old anyway, even if he does remember his son he probably wouldn’t recognize a grown man—

“I,” he begins. He licks his lips, clears his throat. Great first impression, Fergus. “I’m…Fergus. My father was Beowolf the mercenary, and my mother was Princess Emer of Conote. I’m your…your son.”

His father falls silent at that, crossing his arms over his chest and tilting his head as he looks Fergus over from head to toe. Fergus tries not to squirm under his gaze, standing at attention like the real knight he’s never been with a mixture of anticipation and dread. By the name of Noba, what if his father doesn’t believe him? He could—probably handle that. The doubt would sting, of course, but it’s reasonable, given that he could be some random stranger spouting nonsense or lies. If he needs to, he can show his father the brand of Noba on his back, the Beo Sword strapped to his waist. So no, he isn’t really afraid of his father not believing him.

But if his father does remember him, remembers the six-year-old boy he’d left one day and never returned to, remembers and connects that boy to the man standing in front of him now…what will he think? He’s…well, he’s dressed like a Ranger, that much is clear, even if he doesn’t have a horse with him right now. But other than that, it’s not possible to tell what kind of person he is just by looking at him, is it? It’s not possible for his father to be able to divine all his struggles, his failures, all the areas in which he knows—he knows—he needs to pick up the slack. But what if…what if?

What if his father recognizes who he is…and rejects him anyway, because of who he’s become?

“Shit,” his father mutters, running a hand over his face. “Hell of a thing to drop on a guy, ya know?”

Fergus lets out a strangled laugh. He doesn’t know if he can speak, at this point.

“…Damn, fine, I believe you. Now quit lookin’ at me like that,” he says, waving a hand at Fergus’ face. “It’s pretty damn weird seeing that kinda kicked-puppy look on a face so close to my own. Your looks alone probably could’ve sold it—probably ain’t nobody else out there with a face half as close to my ugly mug as yours.”

Fergus doesn’t even spare a moment to wonder if he should be insulted by that, too blindsided by the tentative wave of hope swelling in his chest, by the warmth of being told by his own father that he resembles him in some small way. “So, you…?”

His father’s gaze softens, one hand going up to rub at the back of his neck. “Yeah. I mean,” he coughs, “you’re looking at me like I hung the damned moon and stars. Whether I choose to believe it or not, I’m clearly something to you. And in the face of that kinda evidence, well…I choose to believe. ‘S the smartest way to go, ain’t it?”

Fergus opens his mouth—and possibly even means to say something with it, but all that comes out is a strangled sound not unlike that of a dying bird. To his dismay, his hands are shaking, and he can feel his cheeks starting to become wet. He can’t remember the last time he’s cried, and he’s doing it now, in front of the person he wants to impress the most—

“Hey, now,” his father says, hand hovering tentatively in the air between them. “You—ah, to hell with this. C’mere,” he says, spreading his arms wide.

He’s four, six, nine, fourteen. He’s twenty-three years old, standing here in the middle of the castle sobbing his eyes out like a baby in his father’s arms as his father pats him awkwardly on the back. There’s probably people staring, and he’s probably going to have to address the whole ‘past tense’ way he’d spoken about his parents (damn him for slipping up), because there’s no way his father wouldn’t have caught that. But for now, he can’t bring himself to care. His dad is back. He’s here. He’s here. And nothing in this world or any other can measure up to that.

#duskwrites #holding out for a hero (heroes)#muse: beowolf #muse: fergus #carry it with you (karin)#(briefly anyway...)#long post #injury mention #death mention #just to be clear fergus knows diarmuid exists #but he was kinda preoccupied with other thoughts when beo made the 'you look like me' comment

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wantediniceland · 6 years

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(( Soooooooo @safecrxcker and I have started yet another ridiculously stupid plot. This time it’s Wolfgang and Hardison going undercover at a white collar company as part of a larger Leverage con that needs them to steal something the boss of the company keeps in her office safe. H is pretending to work for the IT department and Wolfgang is pretending to be an executive assistant, and they’re pretending they don’t know each other. It doesn’t take long for the entire office to think they must be fucking. Hijinks ensue. Posting part one now because this will probably get long. ))

Hardison sat in the break room with a few of his new colleagues, unwrapping the sandwich Wolfgang had made for him that very morning. "Were there any connectivity issues with the last upgrade?" he asked, making polite, work-related conversation with another guy from the IT department and pretending he couldn't feel Wolfgang's presence behind him at the sink washing out his lunch container.

Wolfgang: Wolfgang shook out his container, debating on leaving it to dry in the sink. He ultimately decided he would never see it again if he left it to such a fate. He packed it away still damp into his plain black lunch pack. He spared a glance to the pair sitting at one of the break tables. “My work application was running at half speed most of the morning.” He said, purely making an excuse to talk to them because it always amused him to see Hardison trying to hide his little twitch whenever he spoke with an American accent.

Hardison tried his best to school his face into whatever 'talking to a new co-worker I've never met before' looked like and probably way overthought it. "We can send someone to look at that." He made eye contact with his IT buddy. "Or, I guess, they'll probably be sending me since I'm the new guy. Name's Rob, nice to meet you," he said, holding his hand out for Wolfgang to shake.

Wolfgang: “Howdy. I'm Günter.” Wolfgang said. It was a testament to Lito's teaching skills that the corner of his lip didn't even twitch when he managed the sentence. “I guess that makes two of us. I just started too.” He held out his hand and shook Hardison's firmly. “I'll fill out an IT ticket. Maybe I'll see you later.”

Hardison choked slightly on his bite of sandwich, coughing a few times and fumbling for his juice box so he could clear the crumbs stuck in his trachea. "Hello, *Günter*, it's nice to meet you," he rasped. "I'll come by in a bit. Where do you sit?"

Wolfgang: “You alright there, buddy?” Wolfgang asked, tone friendly as he gave him a heavy thump on the back. He could hear Lito laughing in delight in the background. “You're supposed to chew.” He waited until he seemed better able to breath before nodding his head towards the elevator through the open door. “fifth floor. I'm the new executive assistant.”

Hardison: Two hours later, Hardison showed up at Wolfgang's desk and cleared his throat. Wolfgang was in a suit and tie, which he basically never wore, and it was doing...things to Hardison. Luckily Hardison didn't have to play fair either. He pushed his very nerdy heavily black-rimmed glasses up his nose and said, "May I see your computer, Mr. Gunter?"

Wolfgang: Wolfgang had been carefully editing a very boring memo when Hardison showed up. He was happy for the break. There was a reason he didn't have a 9-5 job, and undercover or not, he wasn't looking forward to the monotony if this went on for longer then planned. “Sure thing. Gives me a break.” He answered, looking up just in time to see Hardsion adjust his glasses. Nerd chic. Wolfgang was more into it then he'd ever admit. He stood up, smiling and nodding hello to a couple of co-workers walking by who waved. He made a little small talk about 'computer issues' with them as they loitered around his desk.

Hardison sat down at Wolfgang's desk and tapped around on his computer. He wasn't sure if he had been lying about the lag just to make conversation, but it only took him two minutes to make the computer run at triple the speed anyway so he did it. And then, because he was bored, he slid down to his knees beneath the seat to fiddle with the tower. Disabling all the tracking and monitoring on Wolfgang's computer would probably come in handy for them sometime in the future. Wolfgang must've made some reference towards him to the other co-workers he was chatting to, because they were all looking at him kind of expectantly now. "Hmm? Sorry, what was that?" he asked, scrunching his nose and lifting his glasses again as he peered up at them from beneath Wolfgang's desk.

Wolfgang: “I was just saying you were solving my computer issues, and that you're new too.” Wolfgang nodded back towards the two co-workers he was talking to. “This is Andy and Sandra.” Andy and Sandy were definitely fucking, but neither were married and just didn't want to be involved in office gossip, so Wolfgang had decided that was none of his business. Besides. He couldn't exactly cast stones. “They were talking about getting a group together to go out for drinks sometime this week.”

Hardison: "Oh yeah, um, hi," Hardison said, giving them a little wave, still on his knees under the desk. Drinks sounded like a really bad idea, one because the more different settings people saw them in, the more they were likely to suss out something was up; and two because working a whole eight hour day ignoring Wolfgang was boring enough already, he didn't want to spend his own personal hours not being in Wolfgang's lap too. However, it would definitely solidify their place in the company if they made themselves friendly with everyone. Hardison was torn. "I don't know if I'm a big drinks guy..." he hedged.

Wolfgang: Wolfgang laughed a little at that. “I guess you don't really seem the type.” He kept his tone to a light ribbing. “Suit yourself.” He looked at the others and shook his head with a look of 'what can you do?' “You about done there?”

Hardison: "What's that supposed to mean? Are you saying I'm some kinda square?" He pushed himself up and stepped away from the desk, suddenly feeling like the two co-workers were looking at them with a little too much interest. "Yeah, it should be a lot faster now, why don't you try running a few things while I'm here just to make sure?"

Wolfgang: “You work in IT.” Wolfgang let that be an answer in itself. He said goodbye to his other co-workers, throwing a light 'See Y'all later' in there. There was a glint of mischief in his eyes when he looked back at Hardsion but he didn't say anything about it. “Any programs you want me to run in particular?”

Hardison stuck his tongue out at Wolfgang when he was relatively sure the others wouldn't see. "What, uh, what part of Texas did you say you were from again, *Gunter Von Elbrecht*?" he asked pointedly, pretending to look at the service request on his phone. There was no one else around them anymore, and though Hardison wasn't stupid enough to drop character he did feel like he could say, "You can pretty much run any program you want on there now, if you know what i mean."

Wolfgang: “Houston, of course.” He answered without missing a beat. A quick grin pulled at the corner of his mouth before he grabbed his chair, rolling it back to take a seat. “I guess you just made my job much easier then.” He pulled up a few programs, work related for now, and started setting them back up. “Guess I'll see you around. You change your mind about joining us tonight and the first drink is on me.”

Hardison watched Wolfgang for a few moments to make it look like he was doing his job, before taking his leave of him. Right before he walked away, he let his fingertips touch the back of Wolfgang's neck lightly, just above his collar, too briefly for anyone else to notice. He went back to work and counted down the time until home time, until he belatedly realized that if Wolfgang was out then going home was no fun. He sighed. "Hi guys, I guess I thought I should make more of an effort to socialize with my new team," he said sheepishly when he ducked his head into the bar around the corner where Andy and Sandy and Gunter were already seated.

Wolfgang: Wolfgang looked up, smiling up at him and tipping his head in greeting. “Surprised you made it. Must have wanted that free drink.” Wolfgang already had a beer in his hand. The bar they were at was far from his type. He either liked loud clubs or smokey holes in the wall. This was nice, but quiet, clean. There was a group of about eight of them with Hardison included. He let Hardison introduce himself while he went to get him a beer. Well, what looked like a beer. He spoke quietly to the man at the bar and tipped him extra just to come back with orange soda disguised in a brown beer bottle.

Hardison took the beer from Wolfgang's hand and said thanks. When he sipped it, he was surprised to find that it was his usual orange soda inside, and he raised an eyebrow at Wolfgang. "Wow, this is a lot better than the usual brand I get, how did you know exactly what I'd like, Gunter?" he asked, a sightly sardonic edge to his voice masking the overwhelming love he felt whenever Wolfgang did something thoughtful and also just...whenever Wolfgang was in front of him.

Wolfgang: Wolfgang gave him a small smile before he pressed his lips against his own beer for a slow drink. “I didn't, I guess you just like what I like. Hm?” He told him with a little wink. “What made you change your mind about coming out?”

Hardison: "Oh, you know, being new and all, felt like I should make more of an effort to try to get to know everyone," Hardison said with a shrug. He realized he was maybe looking at Wolfgang too much when he caught Sandy and another woman he hadn't met yet kind of nudge each other. He cleared his throat. "So, what were you guys talking about before I crashed your party?"

Wolfgang: “The new work exchange program.” Wolfgang smiles at Sandy. “And how many of us were hired, how far we came. Boring shit. I think I'm the farthest. I came all the way from Texas.” He said glibly, letting the soft accent Lito had drilled into him play a little heavier. “How about you, partner? Far from home?”

Hardison took another long sip of his soda in lieu of biting his tongue so hard that it bled. "Oh, no, I'm just from around Boston," he said, "just boring old me, born and raised and never left, went to school for IT and never did anything else. I'm not very interesting."

Wolfgang: Wolfgang was holding back a grin as he watched Hardsion. No one else would know he was struggling not to yell at him. He knew his boyfriend very well. “Sounds boring.” He agreed, smiling as he said it. “Is this your first time in a bar? Should we celebrate?”

Hardison: "I've been to a bar before!" Hardison spluttered, sounding entirely unconvincing. The woman he hadn't met yet laughed and interjected, "Are you guys sure you don't know each other already? You seem really chummy for new co-workers. You didn't even bother introducing yourself once he got you going." Hardison spluttered some more. "I have no idea what you mean. I just have bad social skills. You know, IT guy stereotype? I'm Rob Pardison, nice to meet you."

Wolfgang: Wolfgang laughed. “I guess it's because I'm the only one he knows here because he fixed my computer earlier. But maybe WE can fix him.” He helped make a few more introductions. He was happy to settle back more into the background after, nursing his beer slowly and making the occasional comment. He could manage office socializing, but it certainly wasn't his preference. He'd rather be at home with Haridson, or dragging him out to a club to dance with him. This was just part of the job. It was also part of his job to talk a little about his past to make it sound natural... Which was how he eventually ended up sharing the story of how he was the two time mechanical bull riding champion back at his local bar.

Hardison: The woman, whose name turned out to be Julia, told a frankly horrific tale about her and her husband's behaviour at a museum on a recent vacation. Hardison wasn't exactly a big patron of the arts but they'd broken into enough of them to know that was *not* how you were supposed to treat the staff or the artworks. He couldn't say anything about it though, since it would've been out of character. And he didn't say anything about Wolfgang's ridiculous story either, even though there was no way in hell he'd ever even *seen* a mechanical bull in his life. It was funny, but Hardison was starting to get a headache. "I'll be right back, I just need to use the restroom," he excused himself.

Wolfgang: Wolfgang listened to a few of the stories going around. When he felt like he'd put in enough face time he yawned while Hardison was in the bathroom and excused himself, telling the others that the bosses had asked him to come in earlier the next day. He felt like it looked better if he just told the others to tell him he'd say goodbye. Once he was outside in the fresh night air he shot his boyfriend a text that he should at least wait a few minutes before heading out, and that he'd pick him up a block away from the bar. Oh, and that they were definitely getting Thai food for dinner.

Hardison splashed some cold water on his face and steeled himself for more inane conversation and pretending not to care about Wolfgang, both of which was a lot more tiring than he thought it would be. The text he got was such a relief that he was tempted to escape out the back or find a window to climb out, but he dutifully went back out to the table instead. He chatted more while finishing his "beer" and Julia for some reason gave him her number. When what felt like an unsuspicious time had passed, he said bye to everyone and tried not to sprint the heck out of there. "Oh my GOD, why is your cover an impression of Eliot?" was the first thing he said when he finally slid into Wolfgang's car.

Wolfgang: Wolfgang had his hand relaxed on the steering wheel as the car idled. He turned and grinned the second Hardison slumped into the passenger seat beside him. “You noticed? Lito and Capheus both thought it would be funny.” He reached out to pat his chest affectionately before pulling out of the parking spot. “I missed you.”

Hardison desperately wanted to lean over and kiss him, or maybe just climb straight onto him, but he was operating a vehicle and Hardison was a big stickler for undistracted driving. He settled for saying "I missed you too" with a deep sigh. It was stupid because they mostly saw each other all day, but it just wasn't the same. "Lito and Capheus are terrible and I hate them," he said, obviously lying.

Wolfgang: “You love them, and they love you.” Wolfgang answered back evenly, which was absolutely true. His cluster loved Hardsion. He was family. “I thought the accent was good.” He nudged him a little with his elbow. “Do you want to get takeout and go home?”

Hardison: "They're okay sometimes" he conceded. "It was too good, that's what made it weird. Home sounds good, honestly I could skip the takeout and go straight to bed, but you said you wanted Thai food so we're getting Thai food."

Wolfgang: “Lito made me practice for hours.” Wolfgang admitted. Lito was a very strict teacher when it came to acting lessons. At least he was with Wolfgang. He thought maybe it was because he worried over him, that if he didn't teach him well enough he'd be caught. It was his way of protecting him in the one way he knew how. “You need to eat too.” He pointed out, leaning to kiss his cheek at a red light. “We can eat in bed.”

Hardison looked at him in mute horror for a few seconds before he found his voice to say, "We can't--Thai food is *saucy*, we'll get sauce on the bed, that's a hard no." He made himself as comfortable as possible on the car seat and closed his eyes. "This is just a lot harder than I thought it was going to be, I'm just tired. Not like the fake job obviously, I could do that blindfolded with one hand tied behind my back. But like the real job, pretending not to know each other, getting on everybody's good side, it's exhausting. And it's gonna be at least another week before the boss trusts you enough to let you go alone in her office. What if I don't survive for that long?" He must have dozed off slightly because when he opened his eyes, they were at Wolfgang's preferred Thai place.

Wolfgang: “Pad woon sen isn't saucy.” Wolfgang countered. “Or, we can get something else and eat at the table, as long as you eat.” They had a long con in front of them and he knew how easy it was for Hardsion to lose focus on taking care of himself even in the best of times. “You'll survive. I'll just start sexting you at work.” He teased him, reaching out to pat his leg. He let him rest until he was parked. “Keep resting, ya? What do you want me to get you?”

Hardison: "No, I wanna go with yoooouuuuu, been away from you all damn day enough," he said, yawning and unfolding all his long limbs out of the car. He reached out for Wolfgang's hands now that he could. "You order for me, I never know what all the names mean and I always like whatever you get."

Wolfgang: “Ok, ok” Wolfgang laughed and hooked his arm around him, forcing him closer as he walked. “You just think it tastes better when it's mine.” He paused before opening the door to the restaurant, giving him a quick kiss. “Noodles, noodles we can eat in bed.” He assured him before he went to the counter and put in their order. It wasn't long before he was being handed their bag and he spent most of that time holding Hardison's hand and playing lightly with his fingers. Back at home he was quick to peel out of his 'formal' clothing. He didn't understand how anyone wore that by choice.

#safecrxcker #((long post sorry))

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jawllines · 7 years

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Y/N hasn't left his side since he found her a week ago and he can't say it's the worst thing. Sure, she can be a menace and an absolute nuisance at times, and she eats all of his food, but she expresses her gratitude in his saving and feeding her by protecting him, whether it be from seedy burglars or a raccoon that had scampered in through his open patio door. And he can't say the company isn't nice either, since he'd never liked being alone in the first place.

"Harry," she begins, voice soft, low, and borderline monotone that drags him from his reverie, and he looks towards where she sits besides him on the couch, "I'm bored. Can we go to the grocery store?"

His brows furrow, "We went yesterday, what could you possibly need from the grocery store?"

"Milk, please." She stands up and grabs his keys, her gestural way of saying that she is going with or without him, "And Little Debbie."

Y/N is 100% not a human

(this is part 1 of a small little series I’ll be writing in between one shots!!)

She showed up on his doorstep like a lost kitten, Harry remembers, only opposed to a kitten she was covered in blood and looking half dead.

It was unnerving, and he probably should have called the cops or an ambulance or someone who could properly take care of her. But when he reached for his phone, she shook her head slowly, pointed her finger at his door like a take me in there, and he wishes he could blame it on some hypnotic trance or something - wishes that he could say she stared into his eyes, bewitched him before using him as a pawn -- however it was sheer stupidity on his part. Stupidity and a niggling thought at the back of his head that said getting police involved wasn't the best way to go (especially since he is who he is), that all that blood couldn't be just hers and she'd still be alive, that whatever her injuries were Harry had loads of medical stuff shoved in a cabinet in his kitchen thanks to a worrywart of a mother and a company who sends him free gauze due to a generous donation back in 2013, when they were touring Take Me Home.

So he threw all caution to the wind, opened his door, slid his arms around her weak body, and took her inside. Never mind her being a bloody mess and introducing stains to the fabric of his clothes, he held her closely to him and asked if she was okay. "What happened? Are you hurt badly? Where did you come from?" Whose blood is this? gets lost in the muddle of confused thoughts and urgency. He remembers he tried moving quickly but not too fast; while he needed to treat her wounds as soon as possible, one wrong move at this point could be fatal, or so he thought at the time.

She stared blankly at him, he remembers, and for a moment he thought she might be unresponsive or in shock, until a crackled, dreary voice trickled into his ears.

"I'm hungry. Do you have turkey?"

He should've known she'd be a pain in the ass then.

After bathing her, he isolated where her blood was coming -- a haunting gash at her back, and a long cut from the apex of her thigh towards knee -- and after fighting past his wooziness, he tried to disinfect, stop the bleeding, and wrap her up the best that he could while she ate a sandwich like she hadn't eaten in decades. She still managed not to give him any answers to questions that mattered, like what the fuck lead her to his door and why she seemed completely unaware of the deep wounds she had, no matter how many times he asked them. "Are you just going to ignore me?" He had groused, tossing the trash from the bandages in his waste bin, as she sat on his sink, not bothering to pretend her eyes weren't trained on his every move. When Harry signed up for being a pop star he knew he would have some weird moments, but a girl covered in blood at his doorstep now in one of his fluffy robes ignoring him -- had never even crossed his mind as a possibility.

Exhaling loudly, Harry knuckled at his eyes and tried to ward away a growing, glowing red headache starting to dig at his frontal lobe, "Will you at least tell me your name?"

She took a few moments to think about it, swinging her legs back and forth atop of his counter and chewing slowly, slowly, slowly until she swallowed and frowned and a dry cough left her, "I'm thirsty."

Harry gets her the drink, even though she's being a little shit, but it's when he presents her with a glass of water and a pill from an old prescription for her pain, that she answers him.

"Y/N." Her voice was still rough and ragged, dragging through the air, "My names Y/N. Do you have a cat? I can smell it."

It hadn't taken long for Harry to figure out she wasn't human. While healing quickly (or quicker than any human might -- she wasn't free of her wounds just yet, but she was moving around easily and not bothered by them) can always be pinned on everyone's body repairing differently and at different speeds, the fact that she had taken down two grown men who had tried their hand in sneaking past Harry's security system, was not so easily excused. That night couldn't have been excused at all, if anyone were to see, and if those dolts who tried robbing him were dumb enough to share a story about their attempted crime being duped by girl with one arm around a cat, they'd surely be told to lay off whatever drugs they'd made acquaintance with.

No, not human in anyway. . .she couldn't be. . .yet Harry doesn't fear her. How could he when she capers around in silky floral robes, flops starfished onto the couch, and begs for him to play with her hair?

She had stood in front of those two barbaric looking guys all done up in black (which was so stereotypically burglary-like), looking a few feet too small to be dealing with them. Harry had tried to intervene, having grabbed his phone to call the police but Y/N -- much like when he first met her -- shook her head at him, pointed back towards his room like a Go in there before making her way down to confront them, with her arm around the cat. And maybe if Harry had full faith that she wasn't going to be pummeled, or killed then he would have shrunk back into his room like a coward, but instead he sits at the top of his stairs and peeks through the banister like a coward instead. Watched as her eyes changed to two deep, black lakes and stared agape when she shuffled Marshmallow over into the crook of her left arm before taking the one by the throat and tossing him back into Harry's foyer, then dodging the other's attempts at hitting her before kicking his feet out from beneath him, (she hadn't killed them, no, though she admits she would have had Harry not been watching).

The memory is vivid, of Harry sat unmoving in his place not so hidden anymore. The men had scrambled out hastily, nearly leaving a few incriminating items as they shouted and understandably freaked the hell out, wondering aloud what the "fuck was that!" and who the "fuck was that!" (now that he looks back on it, it was quite funny that they left out the front door then, unlocking it from the inside before charging out). Y/N pivoted on her heel, still clutching tight to the cat who also had been stunned to silence (she normally meows a damn storm) as she tiptoed her way up each step. Stopping before him. . .he half expected her to relay some speech to him about what she was, and what that was, and finally explain how she had gotten to him in the first place.

Instead, in what he now realizes is in very Y/N-like fashion, she held out her other hand for him.

"Can we sleep now?"

Y/N hasn't left his side since he found her a week ago and he can't say it's the worst thing. Sure, she can be a menace and an absolute nuisance at times, and she eats all of his food, but she expresses her gratitude in his saving her by protecting him, whether it be from seedy burglars or a raccoon that had scampered in through his open patio door. And he can't say the company isn't nice either, since he'd never liked being alone in the first place.

His brows furrow, "We went yesterday, what could you possibly need from the grocery store?"

"Milk, please." She stands up and grabs his keys, her gestural way of saying that she is going with or without him, "And Little Debbie."

Harry jumps up, going for the keys and in response she drops them into his hands, "Yeah, and where do you expect to go dressed like that?" He refers to her robe, falling loosely on her shoulders but she tilts her head like she doesn't understand, "And stop saying Little Debbie it makes you sound like you're trying to eat a child. You like the Donut Sticks from the company Little Debbie."

He gives her a moment to consider this new information as he jogs into his laundry room. Sure, Harry doesn't particularly feel like venturing to the grocery store on Tuesday at 9AM but he can't risk her going alone. Harry really can't risk her going into public alone at all, and it wasn't because she couldn't hold her own (she could definitely do that), Y/N was just terrible at assimilating and not rousing suspicion. When they'd first gone to the grocery store she had wandered off while Harry was getting toiletries, and he'd been completely oblivious to what was happening until he heard the hustle and bustle of people and a small, "Sir, um, the girl you came with is on top of the dessert aisle and she is refusing to get down."

Atop of the shelf she was sat angrily, with her arms crossed and her legs dangling, ignoring the few people who have gathered around and tried to coax her down. "Where is the Little girl?" She kept asking and it took Harry a moment to realize she meant Little Debbie snack cakes, and completely mortified, he pushed his way to the front of the group of people and held out his hand for her.

"Down ya get! Yeh can't just climb up on shelves in stores, Pet, that's not safe." ("and you're drawing a little too much attention to us right now" fell into the spectrum of things he always almost nearly says but never follows through), "Plus you're in the wrong aisle."

It wouldn't have been a big deal had Harry not been anticipating it would make the papers, which thankfully it hadn't. People are used to seeing him around leggy models in fancy clothes so that was never a worry and he could dodge those questions tastefully, but how was he supposed to explain to anyone a girl in one of his shirts and sweatpants sitting angrily above boxes of raspberry tarts and cupcake mix? Hell, he couldn't even make sense of it himself, really, and he's grateful he is on break right now so if any questions arose he could avoid them.

Harry can't say he isn't worried though, for when he's off break. His album is coming up soon and so is his movie, but the only way he can imagine leaving Y/N behind is if someone were to watch over her or she left herself. Who would he get to watch her though? The only person who would do it who isn't busy with a child and no questions asked would be Nick, if he thinks about it. Though is it a dick move to drop off a demon at your friend's house while you go gallivant at interviews and go to movie premieres? He supposes he could take her with him and leave her in the hotel, perhaps, but Y/N grows bored easily and would scout him out most definitely, and she wouldn't bother to find something appropriate to wear either -- maybe just slink her way into the movies with a robe and ask the person besides him to, "Move. Please." Because though she is demanding, she is quite polite, even if her tone gives them no room to decline her request.

How would people take to her though, if he just let her lounge around him? It's no denying she's enchanting in a way he's not able to describe very clearly. Something in the way she carries herself, the bright look in her eyes and how they dazzle him often, her skin is soft, her body is made by the god's -- he thinks -- and while she's the demon, he just wants to sink his teeth into her sometimes. And despite her often expressionless voice, her personality was quite amiable and friendly, which he wouldn't expect from a demon. Maybe it would've been more believable if not for the way she shown up on his stoop covered in blood and not very concerned about it -- but he can't say he wasn't shocked when she did something kind.

When he says kind though, he uses this word loosely. Y/N does what she can, since Harry is the only real human contact she's had that he knows of, so she'll get him a bag of chips when she gets one but then successfully steals his bag of chips and eats it when he's taking too long. Or she'll walk in on him in the shower and step in behind him because, "This will save you water, no?" before he shoos her out and tells her not to worry about it. Y/N means well, she just isn't well versed on displaying it, which -- if Harry can admit -- is pretty endearing.

"You take too long." Y/N lets him know while she grabs the clothes from his hands, the robe slipping off of her shoulders. Harry diverts his gaze. It'd been pointless trying to explain to her why she couldn't disrobe in front of him; anyway he put it she only countered with "They're just parts. You've seen them before, yes?" And she had him there, so he'd given up.

Harry rolls his eyes, "You're just impatient." He utters, busying himself with tidying the throw cover she'd been covered in that had puddled to the ground before finding his boots.

"No," she says seriously, "I am Y/N, you know that." His eyes clicker towards her, drawn to the effortless way she makes a terribly wrinkled band shirt look impossibly nice. Often does Harry wonder if being beautiful comes with being a demon -- if that makes it easier to draw prey in (i.e. unsuspecting prats like himself).

The floorboards creak as he shifts his weight, stepping off towards the door with a grumble.

"You give me a headache, you know that?"

. . .

It's a Tuesday, exactly one week and three days that Harry has had Y/N, when he wakes up to her on the phone.

On his phone.

Talking to someone on his phone.

So Harry thinks it was understandable that he scrambled up from his bed, gangly limbs tangled in egg white sheets. He'd left his phone on his bedside table which meant it must have been vibrating and ringing loud enough to wake Y/N up (unless it was due to some acute sense of hearing or summat), who must have stomped into his room and answered herself. It wouldn't be that big of a deal if it were Niall, or Nick, but the possibility that it was his mum, or Jeff, or even his record company on the other end sends the hairs on the back of his neck straight up.

"Harry is asleep," he hears her voice from the kitchen (figures), "I will tell him your country called. What? What do you mean you are not a country, you are Colombia no? That is a country. Did you go to school?"

Sliding in, disheveled and wearing one sock half on his foot while the other is bear patting on cold linoleum, he snatches the phone from her hand, because that was definitely the record company which means Y/N was also definitely belittling one of the poor workers. Y/N looks disgruntled that he took the phone from her hands, furrowing her brows and frowning at him but Harry pivots on his heel and walks the other way. "Hello? Sorry 'bout that, m'friend 's a bit loopy from pain medicine." The lie slides easy off his tongue while he rubs the sleep deep from his eyes, stumbling as far away from Y/N as he could.

"It's alright Mr. Styles, it's not everyday my intelligence is questioned, so it was a sure way to start the morning," they say through a chuckle, "We were just calling as a remainder for your scheduled meeting. Are you still able to make it?"

"Yeah, course, wouldn't miss it fo' the world." He answers quickly, checking the clock to see it is 9:50 which prompts him to start shoving his boxers down his thighs, waddling in the direction of the bathroom, "See ya soon."

Harry isn't going to say he forgot about he meeting, the meeting just hadn't been on top of his list of priorities for the past two days which is ridiculous he knows. This is his solo debut, he's been working on it for ages and wants everything to go over well and make his mark darker in the music industry, but it reigns true that having a demon as a pet is a lot of god damn work. Almost like taking care of a kitten that he so often compares her to, keeping to herself but raids his pantry at all hours of the night, pulls at him when she wants to be entertained, kicks major ass, and doesn't understand the concept of being patient entirely. She also enjoys her hair being played with, which he'd only done twice but each time she was rendered pliable and soft for bed.

What he really needs right now is a babysitter -- or someone at least to just check in on her, but this is very short notice and he knows there is no way out of this. It wouldn't be a problem had she not shown her distaste for sitting in the car and waiting, so he knows she would try following him in and that wouldn't be good. How unprofessional would it be to bring someone with him to a business meeting, who has nothing to do with anything, and they'd most likely perceive as a fling he's become especially clingy over. And dammit, Harry has done a lot to rid that image of himself from people's minds, and he wasn't looking on giving that all away just so a demon wasn't upset.

So he's hoping to reason with her about staying in the car, or better yet staying home. That's why he doesn't make a big deal about it when he hears her enter the bathroom.

Sometimes she sits on the sink and waits for him; she gets bored and lonely is what he figures, and it's actions like this that make him want to know where she came from. From what he knows of her kind (which is very little and based off TV, Movies, and Stephen King novels) they're supposed to be reclusive, conniving, and if ever a dull moment they'd just go fuck with a human or summat. It was perplexing, how she acts completely different than expected of her, but he guesses she's much like him in that sense. People expect him to be a proper diva, even with however many articles coming out of people giving him their good word. Just because he was famous he's meant to be full of himself and up in the clouds, and he hates that, so he can only imagine she might hate what people think of her too (if she even knows).

Sometimes he wonders if all demons are like this or if it's only her. . .wonders if there are a lot of them in the world or if she's one of few. There's so many questions he has but he fears she may answer none of them. Or rather, he knows she won't answer any of them, because when he finally works up the nerve to get at least on inquiry out she stares at him blankly then changes the subject.

Where did you come from?

It is much too cold in here. Turn on your heat. Now please.

Sighing, he massages so much shampoo into his scalp that it foams up and falls in clumps at his feet. If there were more time he would sit and let the hot water soothe the ache in his shoulders from sleeping all twisted up, but he supposes he'll just have to deal with it for today. His stomach also grumbles something fierce, and he pouts down at it -- he could probably just grab a breakfast bar, if Y/N hadn't dug into those yet. Really, how much could one person eat? Harry knows she's not technically a person and for a moment does he play around with the idea that human food might not fill her like. . .like whatever she eats out there.

Though thoughts of what she might have eaten when she was not around him makes him shudder, so he shuts those down quickly.

"Y/N?" He calls over the pattering of water echoing off the shower walls. A low hum in her response tells him she's listening, "I'm going to a meeting today and I assume you're going with me?" Another hum, mm-hm, "Well, I'll need you to stay in the car alright? I'll only be inside for a moment, but you're not allowed in with me."

In the next few moments its quiet, save for the noises of his bathroom and his own breathing. Brows furrowed, he repeats her name, and when she doesn't answer this time, he just shoves his head back under the water to finish washing his growing curls. He hadn't expected her to be happy about it, per say, but he hadn't expected her to be so enraged she didn't respond. Even if she never answered his questions, Y/N never truly ignored him before, and he doesn't like the sad little feeling bubbling up in his belly because of it. Harry hadn't left her side for two weeks, surely the trauma of her accident (or whatever happened to her) had settled by now, hadn't it? Shouldn't she be able to spend just a few moments on her own? Or was he not being empathetic enough with her situation?

Harry is gearing up to face a glare when he slides the shower door open a sliver so he could reach for his towel, but when he peeks out from behind the glass his muscles lessen a tense he hadn't known they'd been holding. A smile even pulls at his bitten red lips when he slinks back so he can tuck the towel around his waist. Sliding the door the rest of the way open so he could step out onto a memory foam mat he'd bought as a late night Amazon decision.

There on the sink Y/N is sat, head leaning against the mirror and eyes shut, the glass fogging up with her warm, gentle breaths slow and easy. It's when she looks like this it's hard to believe she's anything but human, and if not for what he saw that night he wouldn't believe anything but that. Just a very, very hungry girl who healed real quick and was well skilled in the art of fighting.

Harry fixes her robe back onto her shoulders, covering her breasts a little more than they had been by the silky floral fabric (Harry had already had two nice robes, and let her pick about an additional seven because it seems to be the only thing she likes to wear). He slides his arms beneath her body carefully, lifting her up so that he could relocate her to her bedroom (he had more than enough space for her to have her own). Y/N leans into his body easily, her face tilting into his damp chest, eyes remaining closed.

"Here we are." His voice is but a whisper as he nudges open her door, and he walks quiet as he can to her bed, pulling back the covers so he can slip her beneath them. Droplets of water from his hair dot parts of her face and neck so he takes it upon himself to wipe them away, all while trying to be careful not to wake her. It depends on the day whether she's a heavy sleeper or if Harry twisting the door open tears her from her dreams. Thankfully, today, she slept like a log.

From there, Harry precedes to get ready and counts his lucky stars that he had such a sleepy demon on his hands.

. . .

The meeting went well. They talked numbers mostly; discussed how much they'd like to see this album sell, where they want to see it sell most, but they also touched on the rating, a few dates, potential interviews and performance debuts. Harry felt good walking out of the conference room, his bones buzzing and fingertips tingling with excitement at the thought of being on stage again and where this would propel is career, along with the upcoming movie he'd had a chance to star in. He told himself this would be his year, dammit, demon or no demon, he was right on track.

Speaking of which, he was surprised that she stayed home. Harry had half the mind she'd track him down or something, since no doubt she would be pissed he left her when she was meant to go with him. Though he is quite proud of her for resisting and letting him get his work done. . .maybe she would be more compliant with his traveling than he'd originally thought.

"Mr. Styles, there is a woman demanding to see you at the front desk." A soft spoken intern tells him.

Harry spoke too soon.

As he's jogging to the front, Harry's imagination wanders into the depths of what could be happening. She can be rather unpredictable, especially in a surrounding unfamiliar to her. Does she have a knife to the secretary's throat? Has she shown her true self and gone and let her eyes change? Was she threatening them how she does him when he doesn't make dinner right away? Or had she simply already killed her after the secretary refused to take her to Harry? There are too many possibilities of what could be happening, so Harry really has no clue what to expect as he stumbles forward onto the scene.

However, he can say that he didn't expect this.

The poor secretary (he thinks her name is Tanya -- cute little thing she is, and she always greets Harry with a big, sweet smile) had a lap full of Y/N, who was only dressed in her robe and had her hand gently holding the side of her face, "Be a good girl," her voice was enchanting, mesmerizing, slow and syrupy, dripping down Harry's insides from here so he can only imagine how Tanya must feel, staring at Y/N with wide eyes but making no move to push her off, "Take me to Harry. I have something for him. Now please."

"Y/N!" He just about shrieks, tripping over himself trying to get to her, "You get off of her!"

Doing as told, Y/N slips off of her and Tanya stands straight up so quickly she nearly knocks her chair back, cheeks red as flames when she faces him, "Hello, Mr. Styles, you have a visitor." She squeaks, and it's when he hears a collective group of sighs accompanied with small utters of S'not fair, I wanted to find him for her! that he notices the pack of people who had crowded around the desk. Had Y/N given them that blank, longing look in their eyes? They were all staring at her, the lot of them looking proper enthralled with her existence as she moved around towards him.

Look at her. . .ethereal.

Amazing.

What does she want with that pop star prick anyways?

I want her.

Harry decided to let that particularly rude comment slide because he doesn't like confrontation and to be fair the guy didn't look like he was in his right state at all. Actually, he looked drugged out of his mind when Harry looks closely. . .all of them do, with moony smiles as their eyes cast onto her. The whole situation was rather bizarre, no doubt someone looking in on them is probably as alarmed as Harry feels right now.

It's not until one of them reaches out towards Y/N's robe like they were about to readjust it for her that Harry's hand darts for her wrist, fingers looping delicately around the thin skin contradicting the way he tugs them both towards the bathroom. Clambering out from the group that had begun craftily slinking around the two, near encasing them in a circle. He hadn't known where he was going to go until he sees a restroom sign tacked up on the wall, and figuring that is their best bet (specifically since he wasn't quite sure if they were being followed or not by lovesick workers).

Shouldering at the door, it swings open, and with a quick once over beneath the stalls he reaches back to slip the lock into place, "Would you like to explain wha' in the bleeding hell that was?" He turns back towards her and watches as she heaves herself up on the granite counters, leaning her back against the cool mirror. The look she gives him is one that might say she thinks he's overreacting, swinging her legs playfully as she stares at him.

"S'nothing," she tells him, "They'll be normal in twenty minutes or so -- wouldn't let me through if I hadn't persuaded them a bit."

"Persuade 'em with what, some kind of spell or something?" His next words fall out of his mouth before she has time to answer, "You can't -- yeh can't just do that Y/N! I'm doing business with these people, this is serious, and I can't chance messing it up. I can't chance you messing this up for me! Christ, I take care of you I just need you to listen to me, but all you've done is cause me trouble."

Brows furrowing, Y/N leans forward a bit, "I'm not messing anything up." Her arms weave around her body, fingers hid behind her biceps as a frown settles on her mouth, "It's important, I know that. You tell me this all the time, and they won't remember this in a day anyways, so do not yell at me, Harry." As if to punctuate her point, she slides her hand into the pocket of her robe and it resurfaces with his thick, leather bound wallet in her grasp. She throws it at him a little forcefully, so that it knocks into his chest but his reflexes catch up in just enough time so he can catch it before it fell, "You left your money holder, so I brought it to you, but now I wish I hadn't. I'm going home."

With this she rips the door open, not bothering with the lock so there is a sickening crunch of metal as she stomps out. Harry watches as she storms out, and before the door swung closed he sees a few of the workers (he presumes most of them are interns, as they seem more susceptible to trailing after people) skipping after her and throwing questions out, like:

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, Pet, why're you mad? Are you okay? Do you need anythin'?"

. . .

Admittedly Harry feels like shit on his way home -- so much so that he stops by the grocery and gets everything together for chicken fried rice, two things of Little Debbie zebra cakes, a thing of banana milk, and a pair of slippers that looked rather soft and were in the shape of big bears. It's the least that he could do, really, after being such a prick. All she'd been doing was bringing him his wallet that he'd so stupidly left it on the table -- he remembers now that he'd forgotten it in a hurry to get out before Y/N had woken up.

And he can't say he hadn't been worried a bit, with what home she meant. Did she mean his home or where she came from? When he got back would she be sitting waiting for him or had she left with a robe and no money into the woods close by his house? Her wounds, while not as severe as they had been, still need to be cleaned out and redressed often, and he isn't sure where she would get that out there. Would she be okay out there anyways, or would she get even more hurt than she had been?

Why did Harry have to care so god damn much?

It was bothersome -- the turmoil in his belly was one of guilt and angst chasing after each other to determine who would reign supreme in his undoing. The cashier had to repeat the amount to him at Whole Foods at least 3 separate times before he finally just took out a hundred and set it on the table (he hates using big bills but he couldn't focus enough to count). On the ride home he caught himself considering what to do with all this food if she's gone, like it wasn't an option to cook it for himself, but if she had left he doesn't think he'd want to eat tonight. Which is dramatic, he knows, and he wonders if she's got him under some spell too, to make him feel like this.

When he pushes the door open to his home, he feels the dread creeping up from his toes to the tips of each hair on his body. There is a low murmur of the TV thrumming though an otherwise silent house, which was a good sign, and eases his mind to some degree, but that doesn't mean she is here. She could've came back to take the extra robes and stow away, but decided to eat a quick something before hand and hadn't bothered to power off the telly, as she's proven to do a few times. So with this in mind, as he creeps around the corner and doesn't see her sat where she would be, he feels his shoulders deflate and another emotion well up in him entirely.

He hadn't wanted her to go -- no, not at all, and the thought of any empty house, lifeless and Y/N-less makes him sadder than it should. If he weren't willing them away, tears probably would've crept into his eyes. He felt like absolute shit about it. . .there was no reason to snap at her, even if she had just come for no reason. She might be a demon, but she could be scared of whatever hurt her. Maybe she kept him around because she didn't want to be alone in case the thing attacked her again, or maybe Harry's cat was able to ward it away somehow.

The bags of food are seconds away from slipping out of his hands, when the floorboards shift behind him, "Harry, I'm angry with you, but I'm hungry, and your stove makes no sense." With wide eyes, he spins around fast to face her. Never had her fluctuation lacking voice sounded like such a symphony before, charmingly delightful on his ears, enough so to make his skin rise with goose pimples up and down his arms and legs. There she stood, in a different robe and smelling of Apple Cinnamon body wash and her hair askew in a bun near the top of her head, holding up her finger's bright red tip towards him, "I've burned my finger three times, and it's starting to hurt me."

A small smile twitches at his lips as he slides the bags he holds from one hand to the others, reaching to take hold of her hand gently, so he could hold it closer to his eyes. He tries not to let the relief and happiness show too much in his voice or in his features, but he wonders if she's able to feel it exuding off of him, "Give it here, Pet, lets take a look."

After further inspection Harry takes her to the bathroom and instructs her to sit on one side of the double counter for him, and she takes back the spot she had had this morning. Leaning into the mirror and holding her finger out before her, she pouts as he busies himself with taking care of it, "I'm still mad at you." She reminds him once more, shuffling against the counter with a pout at her mouth, "You were very unkind, and this is coming from a demon."

Harry sighs, turning on the tap besides her with cool water, directing her finger beneath it as he speaks, "I know, and I'm sorry for that. I -- I shouldn't have snapped at you the way I did." He admits, and Y/N nods like she's waiting for more, "And I won't do it again."

"Good." She withdraws her finger from the stream of water, "Next time, I will spend all of your money instead of being helpful."

. . .

That night, before they go to bed, Harry reiterates his apology.

Y/N pats his head with a small smile.

"It is alright. Lock your windows tonight, please. Sweet Dreams."

She had a knack for that. . .saying rather off putting things right before bed -- but nonetheless, Harry locks his windows, triple checks, and sleeps with his TV on.

. . .

The sun is glittering through his window, when Harry wakes up. Along his bedsheets, turning them into dazzling crystals through his bleary eyes as he tries to make sense of the world in his first few breaths of consciousness. He was burrowed beneath the covers like he'd gotten cold throughout the night, more so than he usually does, and absently does he wonder if he'd left the air conditioner on too low. Spring was still early, so while it might be warm in the day, in the night the air is cold and it seeps through windows and doors into his home. The wide spacing doesn't help it much either, so he makes an effort to shut it off before he goes to bed. Apparently he'd forgotten last night.

It takes him a few moments to realize the body next to him, and when he shifts on his mattress he faces Y/N, who is sitting patiently up against his headboard. An arm around her stomach and eyes trained on the TV, reruns of an old sitcom playing lowly on screen. The robe she wears droops off her shoulders as it normally does, showing off bare shoulders and the supple, soft skin of her breast, and he makes a mental note to buy her a bralette or something, more for his sanity than anything else.

She smells like thick sheets of rain and leaves, from where he sits, and he's about to question whether she'd been outside or not when Y/N looks over to him. "Good morning, Harry, will you change me?" His brows furrow, slowly pressing himself up when she pulls her arm away from her stomach and he sees blood staining the skin and her robe. Then he's scrambling up, standing to fast so black blobs dot his vision but he has no time to be concerned with it.

"Jesus fuck! Wha's happened?" His voice is thick and raspy from sleep, but he's hitting high pitches he's never hit this early before, "C'mon then, let's get you to the bathroom," he doesn't wait for her answer, rounding over the corner of the bed to slip his arms beneath her and heave her up. Y/N leans into his body, blinking wearily at him.

Harry doesn't think he's ever panicked this much before -- consternation dripping sticky down his insides and making his chest squeeze tight. The last time he'd seen that much blood was when he first met her, and while alarmed he hadn't grown this odd attachment to her quite yet, so this time around it was much more frightening. So much so that after he settles her onto the cool ceramic of his toilet, he throws the drawers beneath his sink open so hard that it tries swinging back against him. He's fumbling with all the gauze and ointments he thought they'd been done with since Y/N did away with them last night.

"Off with this," he orders, however his fingers slip along the fabric at her shoulders and push and pull it down further than it had already fallen, exposing her to the chill air and he watches goosebumps ripple along her skin. The destroyed silk puddles around her body and reveals a new nasty laceration on her side, accompanied with the reopening of one of her earlier wounds, and a few abrasions scattered amongst the wreckage of it.

A gasp leaves him, lifting his eyes to look into hers, and Y/N seems out of it, more so than usual.

"What -- Y/N?" She blinks up at him as he reaches for a flannel, screwing on his sink to wet it, "Tell me. Tell me what happened."

Water droplets dribble down his forearms after he's wrung it out, getting down onto his knees before her as he starts wiping her clean so he could make out exactly where the new wound started and ended. She was unmoving save for the subtle rise and fall of her chest with each breath, and she watches him -- he could feel her gaze burning into his head -- and he meets her curious eyes a few times as he waits for her to answer. Though he expects her not to, the hope for some sort of clarity is still alive.

Once the excess blood is soaked into the flannel, Harry gets to work on cleaning them out. He's gentle as he can be, though she doesn't feel much of anything -- or at least he doesn't think she does, given her unresponsiveness to it -- and the quiet is eating him alive. At least before when he'd done this she was eating, and asking questions about his cat, and not looking so soulless and vacant as she is now. What happened last night? Had it something to do with her telling him to lock his window? Was whatever it was after him or was it after her?

It's when he is securing the gauze around her reopened wound that she speaks, "I am sorry."

"For what Pet?" He asks her, regarding the fresh white bandages while he swipes some petroleum jelly on the scrapes.

"You went to bed late last night, and now you are up early. It is my fault for both."

He shakes his head, wiping off his hands on a dry towel, "You're not at fault for either. I kept myself up, I woke myself up. Stay here."

Harry grabs the soiled robe from the floor before retreating through the door, heading towards his laundry room. On his way he manages to unwrap it and get a good look at how terribly she'd been bleeding. Blood in large, dried splotches ruining the beautiful floral design and tears only an animal could make through the fabric. His chest clenches tight once again, and he stops in the hallway, closing his eyes for a moment to recoup. This feeling is suffocating, whatever it is. Whatever is making him well with such sadness and guilt.

When he returns, Y/N is sat where he left her, only standing when she sees he has another robe for her to wear in his hands. This one is a greyish blue, a pattern with trees like weeping willows. "Lift your arms fo' me." He helps her into it, tying it snugly around her waist.

Now they stand in his bathroom, with the steady drip off a wet flannel hanging over the sink onto the floor.

"What happened?" Harry tries once more.

Y/N blinks at him, "Will you make me eggs?"

"Y/N," he repeats sternly, using the tips of two fingers to turn her chin towards his, "What happened?"

Sighing, she tries to avoid his eyes again, noticeably biting the inside of her cheek. She's warmer than she had been -- he had realized he'd been cold because for some reason, her body wasn't giving off heat. None of it makes sense. . .he wishes he could get down to the nit and grit of what she was, but there was no way if she wouldn't tell him anything.

"I was. . .fighting." She answers slowly.

"Fighting what?" He encourages, nodding.

"It wanted to hurt you." She continues, ignoring him for the most part, the floorboards shifting beneath her weight, "And I didn't want it to. So I stopped it."

"But you got hur--" he began, though she is quick to cut him off.

"Yes, and I heal, you would not. Just. . .rely on me, for this one thing. Please."

This is a side of Y/N, Harry has never seen before. Her melodramatic, food gluttonous, "play with my hair, now please" is the one he's been privy to this whole time, not this perfervid girl in front of him, a fire in her eyes that renders him speechless, all bandaged from a life endangering fight that she'd managed to handle so accordingly. . .so quietly. . .that Harry had no idea there had been a fight in the first place (if not for her wounds, he would've noticed nothing at all).

"Besides," she adds with a huff, "If anyone is taking your soul, it is me. You are my human. Remember that."

#AHHH #I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE IT #STEPHEN KIN G HAD ME FEELING SOME SORTA WAY #BUT IM WRITING THE REGULAR ONE SHOT DONT SWEAT IT #THIS IS PART 1 #HARRY SMUT #THIS IS SUPERNATURAL AS YOU CAN PROBABLY TELL #WRITING #WOO

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smilexcaptainx · 7 years

Text

Prank Wars (3/4)

Chapter 3

| O N E | T W O |

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: The prank war has begun in The Avengers tower, your partner is Steve Rogers. None of The Avengers are safe, mostly if you and Steve are the ones paired up.

Word Count: 1,529

Ask me if you want to be tagged in future posts

Tags: @allison-rosewood-maximoff , @chrisevans-imagines , @jessleighton1512

Warning: Fluff

A/N: Here is part 3! I hope you enjoy ♥

After the two pranks you’ve pulled on Bucky and Tony, the word got around and now every Avenger around the tower was cautiously watching out for you and Steve. But you didn’t stop right there, your next scheme included Natasha, Flour and a blow dryer.

You didn’t tell the team that you were going out to the store with Steve because you knew that they were going to be suspicious about it. So that night, as they all went to bed, you and Steve sneaked out of the tower. It was about midnight when you two arrived at the store, luckily the store you were visiting never closed. It was kind of weird how it never closed, but at the moment, you didn’t care because you need flour. As you entered the tiny store, you looked at the desk and the cashier was sleeping on the job.

‘’I wouldn’t blame em, I mean it is midnight.’’ you shrug.

‘’Now, let’s find some flour and get back home.’’ steve smiles, rubbing his hands together maniacally.

‘’You check that aisle, I’ll check this aisle.’’ you explain, pointing out the aisles.

Steve nods and you two separate to your aisles. You scanned around, all you could see was candy. You knew you were in the wrong aisle but you loved candy. You took some candy bars and unwrapped them, you took a bite out of it and moaned with satisfaction.

‘’What do you think you’re doing Y/N?’’ you squeak in surprise and twirl around, seeing steve at the end of the aisle with his hands on his hips.

‘’I.. I’m hungry.’’ you whimper, swallowing your bite.

‘’I’m just kidding Y/N, It doesn’t matter, the cashiers asleep anyways. Plus, I want some.’’ steve says, walking up to you.

You grab the same candy bar you had and put it out for Steve to grab. But he didn’t grab it, what he did grab was your shirt, he then pulls you close and rubs his nose against yours. Steve than leaned in and laid a kiss on your lips, a swarm of butterflies came flying into your stomach. Steve’s hand came sliding up your cheek, he held your head in place as he kept kissing you. Your lips moved in sync with your body movements.

‘’Excuse me?’’ somebody coughs, making you two pull away from each other immediately.

You two turn around and saw the sleeping cashier was now, awake. His shirt was stained with his drool. Steve put his arm around you and pulled you close.

‘’This ain’t a making out joint y’all.’’ the man had some kind of accent, which made you want to laugh.

‘’Sorry sir, we were getting some.. Some um, flour.’’ you blush.

‘’You want flour? Follow me.’’ he says.

You exchange looks with Steve and then continued to follow the man. He lead to flour, you thanked him and got a bag. You went back to the desk and he started to check out the bag. As he was checking it out, you asked him some questions and he answered.

‘’So.. This store never closes?’’ you ask, tapping your fingers on the desk.

‘’No.. I pretty much own this place. Never closed. Although, it’s really easy for people to rob me. Because every night I always fall asleep. I really need an alarm.’’ he sighs.

‘’Oh.. How’d you know we were in here though?’’ steve asks.

‘’I first thought it was ghosts, but than I realized it was just moaning. You guys moan pretty loud. So.. Yeah. Next time, get a room? Yeah. Thanks.’’ he says, throwing the bag into your arms.

You could tell he was tired, but you just thanked him and left the store. As you got into the car, you two burst into laughter.

‘’That was embarrassing!’’ you laugh.

‘’I think most of moaning was coming from you.’’ steve teases.

‘’Yeah. Yeah. Whatever, let’s get home big boy. We need to plant this prank quickly.’’ you smile.

Steve starts the car up and you were on your way back to the tower. When you arrived at the tower, you two sneaked back into the building. You grabbed some scissors from the kitchen and then tip-toed to the bathroom and tried to be as quiet as you could.

‘’Now.. Where’s Natasha’s blow dryer?’’ you whisper, moving things.

‘’Here, found it!’’ steve says, picking it up.

You cut open the bag of flour and sprinkle lots of flour onto the part that blows out the air. After you put the flour in the blow dryer, you two snickered at the thought of Natasha’s reaction. You wipe off the top so it looked like you didn’t do anything, you silently high fived Steve and than left the bathroom. You brought the bag of flour with you and went back into your bedroom. You flopped onto your bed and Steve flopped right next to you.

You turn on your side and Steve came close. He put his body up against yours and wrapped his arms around you.

‘’I love you Y/N. Tomorrow’s going to be so funny, I can’t wait to see Nat’s reaction.’’ steve smiles, kissing you on the neck.

You giggle from his lips kissing your neck, you told him you loved him too. Your eyes shut and just like that, you were out in his arms.

***

‘’Y/N. Get up honey. It’s time for breakfast.’’ steve whispers, shaking you.

‘’Breakfast.. Oh..’’ you groan.

You sit up and hold your head, you woke up with a major headache. You look at Steve who was waiting for you at the door. You get out of bed and make your way downstairs with Steve. When you arrived at the kitchen, the whole team was already there.

‘’What’s for breakfast?’’ steve asks.

‘’Waffles and scrambled eggs. Y’know, breakfast stuff.’’ sam shrugs.

You get a plate which already had food on it, you sit down and saw that everybody was at the table except Tony. Even Natasha was there, you lifted an eyebrow. Natasha usually took morning showers, and after the shower, she blow dried her hair. But she wasn’t taking a shower.. Things weren’t right.

‘’Um, where’s Tony?’’ you ask, taking a bite out of your waffle.

‘’He’s using Natasha’s shower. He has a date soon so he’s cleaning up.’’ bucky answers, his mouth chewing his food.

‘’What do you mean Natasha’s shower?’’ you ask.

‘’Well, I gave him permission to use it because it’s closer to his room. I also gave him permission to use my blow dryer. Mostly because his date is in an hour. So since he’s in a rush, I’m letting him use my blow dryer.’’ natasha explains, cutting up her waffle.

You about choked on your waffle, you turn around and saw that Steve heard the same words. His eyes were wide and so were yours.

‘’Steve and I have to.. Um.. Do something.’’ you say, scooting out from the table.

‘’You didn’t even touch your food th-’’

‘’WHERE ARE THEY?!’’ you hear tony’s scream from all the way upstairs.

‘’Oh no.’’ you and steve say in unison.

‘’Where’s who?’’ natasha screams.

You could hear the stomps of Tony as he came downstairs. The stomps started getting closer and closer. You took Steve’s hand and ran behind the counter, you two crouched down and hid behind the counter.

‘’Y/N! AND STEVE! WHERE THE HELL ARE THEY?!’’ tony screams, entering the kitchen.

The room fell silent as he entered, a sudden burst of laughter filled with room.

‘’Your face is covered in flour!’’ bucky laughs.

Steve covered your mouth and you covered Steve’s mouth. You two were about to burst into laughter, but you tried not break out.

‘’I KNOW THAT BUCKY!’’ tony bursted with anger.

You silently sneak a peek over the counter, you saw as Tony talked with the team. His back was turned towards you two. You tell Steve that you two were clear. As you two stood up, Tony turned around and caught you two.

‘’YOU TWO ARE SO DEAD!’’ tony growls.

‘’Tony.. We can explain.’’ you say, trying to calm him down.

‘’You’re lucky you didn’t prank Bruce. Because you two would be dead if you did. He’d turn into hulk and crush you two underneath his hands.’’ tony snarls, walking towards you two slowly.

‘’Tony.. Now, let’s chill out.. That prank wasn’t meant for you. I swear.’’ steve says.

Tony didn’t give you two any mercy and started after you two. You two just screamed and started running away from Tony. Tony chased you two, swearing and cussing at the top of his lungs. It seemed that you really got to Tony this time. But the prank was meant from Natasha, and not Tony.

As you continued to run, you two just started to laugh, Tony’s reaction was funnier than Natasha’s reaction would’ve been. You soon outran Tony, he was behind you, catching his breath as you two continued to run. Steve suddenly trips on a sprinkler and tumbles down, you come down right on him. You rolled off of Steve onto the grass and continued to laugh your head off.

‘’I-I can’t b-breathe!’’ you laugh, trying to catch your breath.

‘’That prank backfired!’’ steve laughed harder.

You two continued to laugh together, that prank was amazing. But you weren’t done quite yet. There was one more prank that you were wanting to do. But this prank included just you. Not Steve. Just you.

There is Chapter 3!! I hope you enjoyed it!!

Should I Make A Part 4?

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