#thinking about him staying on Earth during injury no. 1 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

orbital-inclination · 1 year

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“WHAT I NEVER TOLD YOU”

Part 1, part 2 (you are here).

Summary: Dream wakes up in a strange place. His host seems kind enough, but there's something about her home that feels… off. He will need to leave if he wants to reunite with his brother. Later, Dream and Nightmare have a conversation to finish. Notes: Moltendreams!AU. Set some time after the brothers left Dreamtale during a time when they were still unfamiliar with the multiverse. General warnings for: dreamtale typical angst/drama, mild non-graphic injury, more references to past emotional manipulation and bullying, and parental neglect Wordcount: 6178

Something was wrong.

Dream stirred. He felt sluggish and weighed down. Pulled closer to the earth by the gentle press of the something that was draped over him. There was a soft surface underneath his cheek, it didn’t itch like grass, and it didn’t crackle like dry leaves when he moved. It took an embarrassing amount of time for his mind to make sense of that, trying and failing to justify why the ground he lay on didn’t feel right. He lifted his skull slowly, rubbing his cheek against the soft surface until the texture slotted a memory into place. This felt like... a stuffed quilt? He pulled an arm free from where it had been tucked close to his body and felt along the surface he lay on. The tip of a claw caught on something. Yep. Definitely a quilt. He could feel the cotton sandwiched between layers of fabric and the stitch between squares. That didn’t immediately alarm him, because his first assumption was that Night’ must’ve found a way to cross the river and found a place for them to stay.

But... that explanation didn’t feel right. He couldn’t sense his brother nearby. The atmosphere was too... stifled. Syrupy, and thick. He almost felt loopy from it. Something wasn’t right.

Tentatively prodding around the quilt, and the surface he lay on, he discovered something else weird.

He was laying underneath... a table?

Reluctantly, Dream pushed himself upright— only to swallow back a strangled hiss as a pulse of pain and stiffness shot down his spine. Usually, the film that coated his bones took care of most things that caused him pain fairly quickly. He remembered slamming into the boulder, but he would have expected the injury to be gone by now. But, obviously, it wasn’t. Not good.

After waiting a moment, he tentatively propped himself upright again. This time, he moved slowly.

He had just enough room to rest on his elbows, slightly hunched over to avoid smacking the back of his skull on the surface above him. He mapped the space through touch and concluded that no. It was not a table. He was underneath someone’s bed. And it was a fairly large bed at that.

He was boxed in. The bed was shoved into the corner, which cut off two potential exits. One end was blocked off by what he thought might be a chest. And whoever had set him up underneath the bed, had sealed the last opening with- oh. Oh, that was a teddy bear. They had sealed the last opening with plushies and cardboard boxes. Dream pulled the bear closer and gave it a squeeze, thinking. If the person who’d brought him here wanted to keep him trapped, they weren’t trying too hard. But... why put him under the bed? He didn’t feel like much of a guest, hidden away like this.

The hinges of a door creaked. Dream stilled. He hunched down, the tendrils on his back arching defensively. A hollow, tapping sound. A box was shifted, dragged across the floor slowly, and- “Oh! You’re awake!”

The voice belonged to someone who sounded roughly his age, maybe a little bit younger. Dream’s first impression of her was that she felt very bright. Or rather very warm, and it was a testament to how saturated this place was that he could only sense her clearly when she was this close.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. Uh, I’m Noelle. I’m sure this must be confusing for you but you’re in my room right now. I found you by the river bank. You were unconsciously so…”

She did something, moved a certain way, but he couldn’t tell what she was doing.

He hesitated for too long. Disappointed chipped at her warmth, cooling it. But the difference was slight. “I… um-“

“Why am I under your bed?”

Embarrassment. “Oh! W-well… my mom doesn’t like to have guests over unexpectedly but it seemed like you really needed help. I couldn’t leave you on the river bank like that! That area floods a lot.”

Dream canted his skull to the side. “So you’re hiding me from your mother?”

The embarrassment worsened. Made bitter-sour by shame and nervousness. “I know it sounds really, really silly but… if you knew my mother, it would make sense.”

Well, it didn’t make sense to Dream now. Weren’t mothers supposed to be loving or something? The closest thing he had to a mother was Nim, but he hadn’t had a relationship with her. Not really. She had been a presence. A thing that was just sort of there, but didn’t do much. She said things, sometimes. But it was like an echo of a memory with no mind behind it.

“Are you a human or a monster?” He asked because sometimes that made a difference in these things. Surprise, confusion, and the sharp tang of incredulity. “Um. I’m obviously not a human? I’m a reindeer monster??” He gave her a moment. “Oh,” she said. “Oh. I... I didn’t realize. You can’t see me, can you?” Dream shook his head. “Where is my brother?” “Your... brother?” He tensed, and a pang of uneasiness shot through his chest and squeezed. “We were separated crossing the river. He was supposed to find me. How long have I been unconscious?”

“I... I don’t know. You were alone and unconscious when I found you. That was hours ago.“ Dream didn’t like that. Had something happened to Nightmare? The tendrils on his back lashed. “I need to get back to the river. He could be there right now.” “No! You can’t!”

He flinched away from her, soul beating fast.

Noelle swallowed. “I… I mean. It’s dark out now. Mom doesn’t allow me to leave the house after dark.”

Right. Because that was a thing mothers did. Nim had also given him and Nightmare rules to follow. Just two. And they had disobeyed both. “That’s okay. You don’t have to come with me. Just let me out and I’ll find my way.”

Noelle was quiet for a long moment. “I can’t.”

“Why not?” He shifted, trying to show her that she had his full attention. And she did, but he was getting anxious now. He needed to reunite with his brother. He needed to apologize and know that he was okay and that nothing bad had happened to him. Something about this place didn’t feel right. Something was just off enough that he didn’t feel comfortable staying here longer than he had to be.

She didn’t reply. At that moment, a new sound interrupted the silence. A sharp rhythmic clicking. It grew steadily louder. Footsteps.

Noelle squeaked. “That’s my mother. I have to go. Don’t make any noise, okay?” The box was pushed back into place and the bed creaked above him.

Dream lowered himself flat to the ground. He held his tentacles still, coiled close to his body. Was this normal? When Nim had been alive, had everyone been this nervous around her?

Seconds later, the footsteps stopped short. A creak, quiet at first. A whine. The hinges of the door protesting. And then, silence. Absolute silence.

Above him, Noelle’s nerves jumped and startled like rabbits. She seemed to be holding herself still as carefully as he was. Breath held. Waiting.

As the silence stretched, a chill crept down his spine.

He shivered. Trying to make sense of the new taste to the magic pouring into the room. The stifling syrup-like nature of it hadn’t changed. If positivity was sweet like honey, then it was as though someone had dumped a box of salt into the jar. Something spoiled here. Something had been left to sit for too long.

All the warmth had gone. The weight of it settled in slowly. It was blunt. And cold, not unlike fear. But many emotions could be cold, could turn cold, if given the right incentive. If Nightmare were here, he could tell Dream what it was. And how fear could feel so... hollowed out.

...oh.

Apathy, Dream realized as another shiver worked its way through his bones. This was apathy. Not the absence of emotion, but the rejection of it. He pulled his limbs closer to his body. As though to hide the warmth there, like cupping his hands around the wick of a candle to shelter it from a draft.

Nightmare hid his feelings behind apathy sometimes. And it was frightening, to witness his twin severe himself from his own feelings. It made something in his chest squeeze painfully. But the cold he felt from his brother was familiar and comforting in a way. This was not.

This magic… the person it belonged to… he could not imagine magic so oppressive would belong to a monster who felt freely able to express themselves. The weight of this magic did not belong to a tolerant person. It belonged to someone who felt they needed to be in control of everything, or the twisted thing deep within their heart would snap.

Without warning the door creaked again and shut with a final click.

Noelle waited a while to speak, listening for the sound of her mother’s footsteps to fade. When she did, she whispered. “That was a close one. We have to be careful to be quiet from now on.”

“Is she always like that?”

“… my mother doesn’t like to be disturbed,” Noelle answered. “I like to collect scary things. VHS tapes, books, cassettes. Everything. But if I’m too loud, if I’m too excited or too scared she’ll force me to turn it off or take it away from me... and I just… I just wanted this one thing for myself, y’know?”

Dream felt something in his ribcage hitch.

She slid off the bed, onto the floor, and moved next to him.

“Does she know you’re unhappy here?” Noelle froze. Stuttered a noise of denial as something within her heart squirmed. Dream had his answer. “You don’t want her to know.” “Hahaha... I don’t know what you’re talking about. Why would I be unhappy? I mean... I have to hide things sometimes but... I live in a nice place. I... I like my town! I have my own room, my mom, my dad... why would I be unhappy?” “I don’t know,” Dream whispered. “I gave my village everything they ever wanted. Did everything they asked of me... but in the end, I don’t think anyone was truly happy.” Least of all himself, but to give that thought a voice felt selfish. What right did he have to complain, when his brother had gone through so much worse?

The shame and guilt were unbearable, suddenly. A sickly cold sank into the pit of his soul. He swallowed thickly, mana clotted in his throat, because how had he not seen the full extent his brother had been suffering? How had he not known? How had he not seen it?

He thought back to every bad day he could remember. Every question he asked that was brushed off. His brother’s stubborn silence. How tightly Nightmare would square his shoulders and turn away. And all those times Dream knew his brother was upset but felt he shouldn’t pry or chose not to. Prying would aggravate his brother and it was his purpose to spread positivity, wasn’t it? What good would it do to make Nightmare even more upset?

He wished… he wished he had tried anyway. Instead of waiting and fruitlessly holding on to the belief that Nightmare would eventually tell him on his own. When he was ready. If Dream was patient enough and did as he was told.

How naive he’d been. If hiding pain under a facade of irritability was a skill then Nightmare had surely mastered it. Dream learned not to talk about certain things and especially not to express those feelings that were cold or black and didn’t belong on his side of the tree.

He learned that quickly because it seemed to him whenever he expressed frustration or sadness or gave even the slightest hint that he was feeling anxious or stressed, someone would turn around and find a reason to blame the black apples for it. “Taint,” they’d warn, “you must stay pure of heart. It is in your brother’s nature to be cold, just as it’s yours to be kind and warm. You mustn’t allow him to influence you.”

“I think...” Dream began slowly, forcing his claws to unclench, buried so deeply into the quilt he lay on, he felt the wood underneath splitter. He forced himself to relax. Noelle needed his help right now. “I think you and your mother are not communicating something important. You are both scared. And because of that fear, you hide things from each other.” “It’s not that! She just overreacts, sometimes... when she thinks I’ve been hurt.” Her heart and mood quivered. She was sad and lonely and trying so hard to hide it. “She just wants to protect me.”

“But it hurts, doesn’t it? Her protectiveness is smothering. It threatens the things you care about.” Noelle swallowed. He heard it, underneath something that sounded like a strained laugh. “T-that’s silly! She’s my mother, I can trust her with anything.”

“Anything but the monster you’re keeping under your bed.” “I...” a flicker, and the strange denseness to the magic surrounding them rippled. Shame was the stone thrown into the murky pool. “If you truly felt that way, you wouldn’t have kept me here. You would have asked her for help but you didn’t,” Dream pressed, voice gentle but firm. “In your loneliness, you wanted to carve out a piece of happiness for yourself. But Noelle… you can’t keep me. I don’t belong here. I can’t make you happy.”

Noelle made a soft sound. Her voice cracked. “I wanted to make a decision on my own for once! I know she means well, and I... I’m too nervous to confront her. I feel powerless. But then I saw you on the river bank, it was different. I felt inspired? It was weird I...”

A pause and a strange dizziness overcame her. He shifted in concern, debating whether or not he needed to move closer in case she toppled over.

“I felt special. I knew I wanted to be your friend. No... I knew I had to be because… I couldn’t shake the feeling that I already knew who you were.”

“Friends don’t force each other to stay where they don’t want to be.”

The slight bite to his tone snapped Noelle out of her daze. He felt the snap, the sharp lick of regret, and could not tell who it belonged to. “I… I know. I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me. It… it felt right at the time,” Noelle struggled for a moment. “I can’t… remember? There was something else but I don’t…”

Uneasiness swept through him. The tendrils he'd looped close to the quilt reared up warily, twisting over themselves in heed of his discomfort but unable to find the source.

“… what do you mean ‘it felt right’ ?”

“I can’t explain it. It just did, y’know? It was like one of those moments in a book when the world seems to pivot and the heroine realizes what she was meant to do.”

A shiver crawled down his spine. “Did you feel compelled to help me?”

“T-that’s a strange question. It’s what anyone would have done, isn’t it?”

He had nothing to say to that. Maybe. One would hope. But the situation still felt odd. She wanted to help him but didn’t want him to leave until he confronted her about it. It left a strange taste in his mouth.

“Will you let me up now?” He asked instead.

“Yes!” Noelle scrambled back and shoved boxes and plushies aside. One rolled over a tentacle so Dream grabbed it and set it next to the teddy bear he’d held earlier. There was a thump, as something that sounded like a book fell, and suddenly, it was just a little bit less stuffy underneath the bed. Dream felt along the edge of the bed frame above him and carefully crawled out. A sharp pain shot his spine as he stood, but he swallowed the hiss of pain in his throat and it faded, after a moment.

The floorboards creaked underfoot. Noelle shifted her weight, a dim but growing cold spot of nervousness. “What happened? Between you and your village, I mean.” His soul skipped a beat. “I don’t know,” He didn’t want to talk about it, and he especially didn't want to talk about himself. “We left.” “Oh.” A pause and she said quietly. “Dess talked about moving to the city. She wanted to take me with her to explore the city together. Leaving without her doesn’t feel right, I don’t think I’m ready yet but, maybe someday.” And Dream thought about the tree and his brother. He vividly remembered climbing the hill, running, and the dry grass lashing at his hands and clothes. The voices shouting to be heard over the rumble of approaching thunder. His brother, cornered against the trunk—

“You... you’re not going to encourage me to talk to her?”

“You know your mother better than I,” he said, and distantly wished he could blink away the memory. Over and over again, it looped. “I never went to my brother with my problems because I didn’t want him to think less of me... I regret that now.” Nightmare thought poorly of him anyway. So it hadn’t mattered. “But I was never afraid of my brother. Not in the same way you seem to be of her.”

“I’m not... afraid of my mother,” Noelle said somewhat hesitantly. “It’s just hard to talk to her. She doesn’t like to be interrupted and... the town is more important.” “Is it?” Bitterness dripped from his teeth. Hot in his mouth. Sometimes, it was easy to doubt himself. When he stole anger like a thief, he could only assume the villager elders had been right. He should have been more careful around the tree. But the branches sprouted from the same trunk. Black or gold, the apples came from the place, so there must have been something rotten in his soul from the start.

Noelle startled. A skipped beat. And Dream took a breath. “You are part of the town too, aren’t you? Why are you excluded from the same care?”

“I…” she swallowed, overwhelmed by too many emotions to name at once. Most of them leaned close to sadness. “I never thought of it that way… you-you’re right. I’m part of this town too and… I don’t know if she’ll hear me out, but I’ll try. At the very least I have to look after myself better.”

Dream nodded, and the bitter, writhing thing in his chest settled. He wished he had looked after his twin better. “Don’t smother your loneliness.”

“I won’t,” And then added somewhat hesitantly. “Do you still want to leave?”

She felt sad. Sadness was heavy and sank deep throughout one’s heart. It had the flavor of ice, without the bite of cold and he felt it as deeply as if it were his own. But, it didn’t make sense for the feeling to be this strong. Why did she want to be his friend so badly?

… he didn’t want to stay for much longer.

“I can’t stay. I have to find my brother. I’m sure he’s worried, and I’m worried about him too.”

To his relief, she understood. “We’ll have to be quiet. I’m… actually surprised mom wasn’t woken up by all that.”

Noelle meekly suggested he take her hand so he wouldn't get lost. The cabin was huge, apparently. Dream offered a compromise and held on to the corner of her sleeve instead.

She led him to the door and into the hall beyond it. They walked, stopped to listen, took a turn, and then another. Dream kept one tendril on the wall to keep himself oriented, making note of the changing texture and the stray accent table that came out of nowhere. Someone ought to put bells on those things.

Eventually, the wall ended. The sound of their footsteps changed and every breath and rustle of fabric echoed cavernously.

He only knew when Noelle took him behind a sofa because he bumped his knee into it. She directed him to a wall (it was made of skinned logs fitted together like the pieces of a puzzle with something that felt like coarse hardened clay holding it all together. Dream withdrew his hand quickly when he felt a cobweb. Spiders worked so hard on their nests.) and then to a windowsill. “All the doors and windows squeak but this one— it's a bay window. It swings open on your right— it’s the quietest. The sill is meant for sitting... um, do you need help climbing up?” He shook his head and easily pulled himself up onto the windowsill. He’d climbed trees all his life. This was nothing.

“Okay. On the count to three. One. Two. Three.” The window whined, loudly. Dream flinched and next to him, he felt Noelle jump. Her soul lurching in a half second of fright. They waited a long moment, breath held, but aside from the muffled sound of a nearby tree scratching the roof, the cabin was still.

“You better go now. Mom could’ve heard that,” Noelle said, the focus of her attention elsewhere. Dream tried to follow it, but he couldn’t figure out what she was focusing on. “I never asked for your name, did I..? That… that doesn't make sense. I really did just.. bring a stranger into my house like that.”

Dream nodded. “You could have picked a worse person to sneak into your house. My name is Dream, by the way. Thank you for your hospitality.”

“Y-you're welcome?” Sometimes, it was possible to hear someone growing pale. By the sound of her voice, he imagined her face had lost all its color. “I’m sorry for involving you in this and basically kidnapping you? Oh-my-stars. I kidnapped you!”

“Hardly. I was unconscious and too close to the river bank. But you did try to keep me here,” he added, but she was already very stressed and it was making him stressed, so he hastily continued. “It’s okay. I forgive you. I don’t think you were in your right mind anyway. Will you be okay with your mother?”

“Y-yes. I think so. I mean, it's just…” she sighed. “It’s complicated. But dad is here too, so. I’ll ask him for help if I think I need it.”

Her voice was warm again, and it was slight, but for a moment, he almost couldn’t taste the sickly quality to the magic surrounding the cabin. “Thank you. I feel better now. I hope you can find your brother.”

He nodded, and murmured a thank you and goodbye because leaving someone’s home was always somewhat awkward. He turned, swung his legs over the ledge, and dropped down.

Leaves and grit crunched under his feet. He waited a moment. Just to be sure. He canted his skull toward the window, listening, then he picked a direction that felt right, and started walking.

Gradually, the ground began to dip into a shallow slope, and though he could not hear the river yet, Dream knew he was close. The ground was damp, soaked through either from rain or because of its proximity to the river. He stepped through the underbrush carefully, mindful of the way his boots sank into cold mud.

The forest floor was a knotted mass of roots, rotting leaf litter, and moss. Twice, Dream almost tripped. So he spread his tentacles wide, two held wide and arching, level with his skull so he wouldn't walk headlong into a low-hanging branch. And two low to the ground, so he wouldn’t trip again.

A quiet crunch echoed from somewhere in the undergrowth. Dream paused, angled his skull towards the sound, and held his breath because the atmosphere felt cooler and less stifled in this direction.

“...Nightmare?”

“Dream!” The shout back was immediate. His ribcage hitched. He took three quick steps forward and broke into a run. He heard the snap of a twig underfoot and the branches of a bush part. Pure relief washed over him. Cool and warm at once. The weight of his brother’s magic was unmistakable.

The rough bark of a tree snagged his tunic and he stumbled.

Two hands caught his shoulders. Dream redirected his balance and quickly latched onto his brother’s sleeve. Nightmare was not hurt, he could immediately tell. Worried and stressed, yes, but not hurt. Thank the heavens.

“Are you alright? What happened?” A sharp lick of concern. “You’re in pain.” Nightmare’s grip tightened for a moment. Dream felt one check, then two, as his brother looked him over.

He shot one back, just to make a point. He was too relieved to be truly bothered by the fussing.

“That’s from the river. It’s better than it was. I’m fine.” and honesty? So much had happened in the last however-many-hours-it’d-been he hadn’t noticed the ache until Nightmare had pointed it out. “The family that found me was kind. They didn’t hurt me.” Nightmare released him and stepped back. “Stars... I should never have led you across. We should have waited for the river to level. Or for the rapids to settle or-”

Dream shook his head. “We had to cross somewhere. I could’ve just as easily warned you it was a bad idea. But I was…” too upset. Too consumed by hurt and frustration to really consider what it meant when the sound of the river had grown so violent. If he had just stopped to think. If he hadn’t lashed out...

The tight feeling returned to his chest.

“I’m sorry.” he choked. “I shouldn’t have said what I did. I didn’t mean it. I was angry.“

“No, I…” Nightmare took a breath. “I should be the one apologizing. It was reckless to cross the river right there. I snapped at you. I hurt you. I knew better, but I didn’t care. I’m sorry.”

Nightmare didn’t... apologize often. He meant it sincerely when he did, but it was just the sort of thing his brother struggled with. Dream forced his jaw to unlock, he wasn’t angry. He was as tense as a spring, but he wasn’t angry. Not with his brother. He didn’t need to feel Nightmare’s remorse to know how much he meant it.

“But you were right… I wasn’t… I wasn’t there when you needed me. I prioritized the needs of the village over you. I saw how sad and lonely you were and still I... the why of it doesn’t matter now.”

“How could you not?” His magic was cool, a shallow pool of shade. His actions seemed logical to his brother. And that made it worse. Dream ducked his skull, feeling wretched. “They gave us clothes and attention. A purpose when Nim felt more like a ghost than the Goddess they later insisted she was. How were we supposed to interpret her will when her voice had been gutted and theirs spoke louder?”

He nodded, once and didn’t raise his head. ‘-it is in your brother’s nature to be cold.’ and Nim’s voice had always felt like the echo of a memory to him, not really there at all. He wondered, idly if they had ever really heard her.

“We never heard contradictory ideas, did we? You were the only one who questioned anything.”

“I only questioned them because of the way they treated me.” Nightmare said bitterly. “We have books to thank for that. I knew what I was experiencing was unjust, but I couldn’t articulate why until I began reading. That village was full of hypocrites.”

Dream nodded again, heart pinched tight by a dark emotion he couldn’t name but was altogether painful. “They were scared of you.”

His brother was quiet for a moment, not quite seething but close. “They resented me more than they feared me. I think I would have preferred fear. If they had been scared enough, they would have left me alone.” “Don’t say that,” Dream whispered. “Fear would have led to resentment anyway. They would’ve done worse.” “Worse,” Nightmare echoed, frigid and biting. “Do you know why I reached for the apple, Dream?” ‘Don’t...’ Dream wanted to say. ‘I already know why, please don’t say it.’ Words were stones and bile behind his teeth, he swallowed them down.

“I was convinced I was going to die.” the simmering anger that had gradually been building behind his brother’s heart suddenly evaporated, released in a deep breath. “If... if you hadn’t arrived when you did...” His voice tapered off. Neither of them wanted to hear the end of that sentence.

Guilt soured the silence. The pit of it gutted his brother. Dream looked up. The dark cold made his brother seem frail. It reminded him of the worst days. And the bitter rage he had felt when his brother had dismissed him now seemed like a pathetic response.

“I’m sorry. What I said to you was cruel.” “It was,” Nightmare said, voice quiet. Dream flinched despite knowing the truth of it. He had hurt his brother. And he had said what he did knowing that it would. “You were right. I did reach for the apple first. I didn’t have a choice, in the moment, I truly believe that. But I... I regret what happened afterward. Dream, it’s because of me that you…”

His brother didn’t finish.

“That I… what?” He hasn’t meant it… as a warning. His voice sounded hollow even to his own mind. He wasn’t even sure what he was warning his brother not to say. But something was balanced, precariously on a knife’s edge. And it was tittering.

Dream felt his brother’s rapid pulse of guilt-anxiety thrum and Nightmare said, softly and carefully. Words chosen at length. “You were despondent for three days. I don’t think you realized we had left the village by then. You wouldn’t sit unless I told you to. You barely moved. And for a time, I worried that the dust might have stuck to your clothes or that somehow I’d missed it on mine and that was why—“

Oh. For a moment he thought Nightmare was going to bring up something else. (It wouldn’t surprise if his brother had wisely decided to change what he wanted to say at the last second.) He didn’t remember that. Something in his own chest sped up. Pounding hard. “Why would there be dust on our clothes?”

Nightmare went very still. “... why would there be— you don’t...”

Was he talking about the axe? “It only struck me once,” Dream said, and hoped that might be reassuring to remember.

He didn’t understand the emotion he felt in his brother’s stare. “Right…the woodsman’s axe,” Nightmare said, slowly, muttering to himself afterward in words Dream couldn’t catch.

The sound of a woodsman chopping wood on the edge of town had been the other reason why they’d left it so quickly. It did something to his soul that Dream didn’t have a word for. The sound made his chest hurt even though it’d been a long time since that wound had healed. It put Nightmare on edge too. Maybe thats why they’d been so short with each other.

Nightmare shook himself. “The river didn’t reopen something, did it?”

Dream snorted. His brother was such a mother hen sometimes. “It’s been years, Night’, I think we’re long past the risk of that.”

His brother clicked his teeth. “Do not overestimate the strength of newly healed bones.”

“The wound is hardly new now,” and then Dream frowned, and said quietly. “I don’t blame you, Night’. It wasn’t your fault. I said that because I was upset... but didn’t mean it.” But he could tell his brother didn’t believe him. Nightmare said nothing for a beat, and Dream tried and failed to think of something to say to prove to his brother that he meant it.

“It's not like you to lose your temper. Before we crossed the river, you were trying to tell me something but I interrupted you. What were you going to say?”

Oh. Maybe the conversation should have ended there. Dream shifted, uncomfortable. “It’s nothing.” “No,” Nightmare said, voice firm. And Dream could vividly imagine the frown on his face. “It’s not nothing. You are a difficult person to anger to that extent, Dream. I know I... said somethings that I shouldn’t have, just before... what were you going to say?” A part of him bristled. It was a small part, and he did his best to bury it. He knew though, as he felt Nightmare’s scrutiny intensify, that the attempt was pointless. He supposed it was a bit like trying to hide lightning. “... Earlier you told me I left you alone with the people who hated you. And you were right. I knew they distrusted you, I didn’t understand how deep it ran but even if I had, I... don't think any other outcome was possible for us.” He crossed his arms over his chest to hide the slight tremble in his hands and vainly hoped his brother didn’t notice that either. “I only did what I was told to, ‘Night. I thought I could make everyone happy. I thought I was being selfless by putting their needs—the needs of everyone above ours. But in the end, it never felt like a choice. I... I think I only succeeded in spreading selfishness.”

“I should have known,” Nightmare’s voice was hoarse and brittle. “I should have known... they used you too.”

The crunch of leaves. A step taken closer while Dream struggled to wrangle the writhing thing in his heart. His ribcage hitched. Used? He would’ve never called it that. He didn’t want to call it that. He couldn’t think of it that way because then he would have to acknowledge that the people he’d loved had not only lied but used him too and— he found himself wrapped up in a tight hug.

“I'm sorry. We didn’t look after each other very well, did we?”

It felt like there was a dam behind his sockets. Burning, burning. But the tears wouldn’t come. He hiccuped and buried his face in the collar of his brother’s shirt. The arms wrapped around him squeezed. There was no judgment, no mocking sneers or scoffs. No teasing. Just marrow-deep sympathy and a shared raw pain he didn’t think would ever truly go away.

“It’s okay, Dream. We’re going to be okay,” Nightmare whispered and Dream wanted to cry all over again but couldn’t. It didn’t feel okay. When has anything his brother gone through been okay? It seemed like nothing had been okay for a long time. He didn’t like feeling like this. But he allowed himself to be held and rocked until the thoughts of a place he could never return to slowly faded, and the shaking subsided.

When Dream felt... not quite calm, but tired and spent, he stepped back. Nightmare let his arms fall. “I think I can take us out of here now. Something changed just before I found you. I felt a shift... Did something happen with the family that found you?” Instead of answering, Dream nodded in, at least he hoped, the direction he came from. He was too tired to explain the strange magic he’d felt in Noelle’s house.

His brother was thoughtful for a pressing second, then said, gently. “Whatever you did, it helped. Let’s leave it at that and get out of here before anything else happens.” Dream agreed wholeheartedly. He hoped whenever they went next didn’t have a woodsman. “Do you think there is a world out there without a forest?”

The question startled a chuckle from his brother. “You want to go somewhere without trees?” He felt a palm press to his forehead. “Are you ill, brother? Do you have a fever, perhaps?”

Dream swatted his hand away. He was too tired to fight the small smile that pulled at the corners of his mouth. “Where there are no trees, there is no axe.” “I’ve read of places where there is sand instead of dirt, for as far as the eye can see, and grass refuses to grow there.” Now, he could believe that first part. After all, some river banks and dry creek beds were like that, but where grass will not grow? There was no way. “You’re lying. You’re making that up!”

Nightmare laughed and easily dodged his second attempt at smacking him. Cheater. “I don’t know when we’ll find such a place, but I promise one day I’ll take you there.”

“You read too much,” Dream commented, dryly. And if Nightmare wasn’t smiling, he was wearing an expression close to it. He reached for his brother’s hand, without hesitation this time. Nightmare took it, and in a blink, they left the forest and the AU behind.

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ladynaberrie · 11 months

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i'll wait it out (if you want)

Pairing: Kix x Translator!Reader

WC: 1k

Rating: T

Kix has talked to you a grand total of twice, but it's enough to let him know one thing: this can't end well.

AN: Hi....just been thinking about Kix a lot lol also kriff is such a silly word let them say fuck!!

part 1 part 2 part 3

sfw but mdni pls

Kix has already checked out by the time Rex introduces you to his unit. Instead, he’s mentally taking inventory of the med bay, making note of how many medpacs need to be restocked, how much bacta was used on their last mission and what are the odds he’ll need more this time. (Very low. It's just a simple relief mission).

He’s just one drop in a sea of faces, but he has to keep his vode alive.

So when Rex says you’ll be joining them as a temporary translator (anti-droid sentiment prevents any protocol droids from entering the settlement of their upcoming relief trip), he pays just enough attention to remember your name and note that you're prettier than other nonclone GAR members.

Natborns weren’t that common among clones, but you were all scattered around; a crop of mechanics here, a couple of supplementary medics there, and a handful of translators and other admin-level members to fill any gaps.

Kix tends to not pay them any mind, preferring to keep his head down and focus on what he needs to do. But he spares you a quick second glance before he fucks off to get everything done. He’ll try to stay within two clicks of you, in case you need help or anything.

Maybe one click.

“She didn’t have an actual injury, Kix. It was an injury of the heart.”

Kix certainly didn’t expect to have an actual conversation with you, and he certainly didn’t expect to be the cause of your laughter. He’s never been more grateful for his bucket, because his face is warm, and his mouth is open stupidly as he stares at you. How on earth does someone look so pretty while they laugh? It almost pisses him off.

It was a simple mistranslation on his part. (His own fault for not utilizing your talents, and assuming he picked up the basics regarding medical care). If you had been anyone else, he would’ve been annoyed, embarrassed, or anything other than awestruck at how your eyes glow in delight.

Kix is partially in shock at how funny you find this, but he's not complaining.

Your laughter has rocketed to the top of a very short list containing his favorite things. He wishes Fives' humor rubbed off on him; he wants to make you laugh all the time.

Your giggles eventually die down, and you reach out, palm resting on his bicep. He knows he's imagining it, but he swears he can feel the heat of your skin through the unforgiving plastoid. What the actual fuck?

“Sorry. It was really cute, that’s all.”

You drop your hand, sending him a small smile before trekking off towards a busier part of the settlement.

Oh stars.

He’s absolutely kriffed.

The trip back to Coruscant is somehow too short and too long, and the damn Resolute isn't big enough for Kix. Every corner he turns fills him with a sense of dread, every hallway, a narrow deathtrap that potentially ends with you blocking his path.

It's all in his head, and the paranoia and stress tie his stomach into knots. But Kix's conditioning and discipline keep him propelling forward.

If there was one thing Nala Se and those longnecks were good at, it was making sure Kix and his brothers could operate a maximum efficiency. No matter what weighed on any of them mentally.

By the time they enter Coruscant airspace, he's finally calmed down, finally able to get enough air in his lungs again. He's back to counting flexclamps, back to sorting synthflesh and kolto. It's methodical, easy, and soothes his brain in an annoying way.

"Kix!" your voice rings out.

His fingers pause over a stim-shot; he turns to look at you.

Kix's nerves are already pinched during missions thanks to Rex, Fives, and Hardcase. Why not let them fray before and after missions thanks to you? You're much nicer to look at and much nicer to listen to.

You clasp your hands behind your back, subtly shifting your weight on your feet. The whole movement strikes him as very... un-military. It kicks up something in his chest akin to affection.

"Just wanted to say goodbye since we're almost planetside." Kix blinks at you dumbly before nodding, trying to ignore the desire to slide on his helmet.

Your movement stills, eyes gliding over his face as your brows pinch slightly in worry. "Are you okay, Kix?" He nods instinctively, taking a breath to clear his head.

"Yes. In perfect condition. You know you don't need to say goodbye to every clone? Most natborns don't." Your face falls a little, and he wants to jump straight into a trash compactor.

"I know. And I don't say bye to everyone. Just the people I like and would like to see again."

Oh. He nods again slowly, processing.

Kix isn't sure what to make of that, mainly surprised that you consider him a person and that somehow, he made the shortlist of people you like (and want to see again). He doesn't even know what he did to put him on that list.

But you just grin again, seemingly reveling in the ability to leave him tongue-tied.

"So I wanted to say bye before I get assigned elsewhere." What the fuck?

Kix feels like his face is on fire and regrets popping his lid to take inventory. You must think he's an inarticulate fool.

"Anyway, I hope I get assigned with General Skywalker again. I'd like to see you all again." He watches as you eye him, a coy smile sitting perfectly on your face. Would you ever let him kiss you?

"That would be nice," he says, nodding at you. You look at him for one last moment before nodding back and strolling out of the med bay.

Kix takes a second, unable to move, before plopping onto one of the sick beds.

He's kriffed.

#kix x reader #kix x you #tcw x reader #the clone wars x reader #star wars x reader #star wars x you #tcw x you #the clone wars x you

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originemesis · 11 days

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// some reference notes for adam's physique/state of being in each verse!! since he's not actually a shape shifter by any means, but bitch changes like one at each notable point in the timeline while yelling 'it's not a phase! it's that next level shit-'

promised paradise ;

- fresh out of the Creator's ez bake oven and on a strict vegan diet straight out of Eden's pussy. Know all the twinky fanart of Adam you tell yourself can't hurt you because it's not real? This is him! Your literal nightmare and did I mention he's nude?? In all seriousness, he's got a strong jaw, a faint dusting of freckles between his eyes that extends along the bridge of his face, and a massive (ye it needs to be) manifestation of golden light in the shape of an actually average sized fig leaf that stays just sort of floating/concealing the reason why you should call him dick master. has a scar on his flank where the rib came out. - out of Eden, he gets clothes and eventually looks like your average Minecrafter. (Not even elaborating except letting you know block Adam is likely real and we should fear him.) calloused hands from totally farming with tools and not throwing them at Michael. no longer trusts fruit and sustains a meat and potato heavy diet, and is thicker with more musculature. one hand is permanently fucked up because eve keeps breaking it during every birth and she do be populating-

the crusades ;

- standard commander of the exorcist wardrobe and nearly exclusively how someone will happen upon him unless they catch him off guard, on laundry day, or is Lute. if laundry day, he'll be in a spare exorcist uniform (yes the skirt 1) or a maid outfit someone (probs Gabe) convinced him into thinking was a robe. - when he's first brought to heaven and shown around by Sera, he basically is a combo of both Eden verses- younger again, freshened up, half thick with farm work and (don't forget naked!!) Sera eventually helps him find his main robe to wear because he's mclosing it since the apple made him woke to these things and dying didn't change that. said robe is actually just the massive bell shaped bottom of one of Sera's dresses that she chopped and stitched up for him (he grows into it.) - beneath the uniform, he's still got muscle but it only shows when he's in battle using that farmhand strength to direct his weight around like a literal train wreck. he's gotten chubby from not trusting fruit and not having a woman to fix him home cooked meals anymore, opting for convenience style food (not that he has to eat, but he develops a binging tendency from a combination of the stress of not fitting in to heaven's mold before the 'angel skin' helps him fake it, and from tendencies formed on Earth since food could get scarce just depending on the weather's fee fees) and he holds it in his chest, stomach and ass, though his garb of choice gives him the classic church bell body. - his freckles are still there, but they glow with a faint golden light that's only really obvious in the dark. his wings are composed of golden feathers that are rather impressive when first hitting the sunlight in heaven, but Sera will admit they don't look as nice as that first time now since he doesn't take spectacular care of them, delegating the preens to his exorcist flock and they currently can't outclean the speed at which he accumulates Cheetoh dust in them. - the combination of him being alone for some time before Lute takes over, not taking general care of himself, and being without his rib support beam (that first wamman!) has caused fairly dark circles under his eyes and he generally has an air of deterioration about his actual face when on display. - his actual human nails are usually painted black under his talon gloves. Lute does them for him while they talk shit.

six months remaining ;

- same as above. he ends up with a wing injury from attempting the archangel proposal process (being not a full one himself but kind of like in training? so yeah that fucks his shoulder and wings up a bit.) this confines him to his apartment where he's forced by Lute to just hang out in off duty comfy sweatpants. though he's stuck in short shorts when she makes him go to early morning physical therapy yoga.

dead on arrival ;

- arrives as he came and slowly goes through hell puberty - which is a settling into a demon form that all souls inevitably take while being exposed to hell for too long (and well since it's forever... y'know!!) - since he insists on still wearing his helmet once Vox tech fixes it, he's unaware of the changes at first. gradually his skin starts looking more ashy and toasted like it's trying to shed to match the charred color of his arms that end in actual talons. his eyes were scalded by an archangel (Lute's), and the whites of them eventually fade out to black with pinpricks of gold for a pupil. - eventually his forehead starts to form horn nubs over each brow, but they don't get much bigger than that and sort of resemble piercings. one of his wings is missing (from a comatose meeting with a cannibal who finally got to taste God's chicken-) and he keeps the remaining one permanently tucked at his side like he's worried about losing that one too, though the feathers are faded and look like they might be darkening. the feathers he has sprouted (a couple tucked behind his ears like hair), and those that form a fan at the end of his tail, are dull brownish gold and speckled with black. - in addition to his rib scar, he has a large scar over the solar plexus and on the opposite side between his shoulder blades made of many small entry points, and with how the flesh has healed- it resembles the beginnings of a large rock hitting water impact. - he starts to ignore these changes and continues to just exist as he did in heaven with his helmet on, though trades the robes out for joggers and any other fuck boy rock star gear that Velvette puts him in when he's under contract. and yes, when he wears a hoodie- he just cuts holes in the hood for the helmet's horns. 🤘 - his appearance stays relatively stable to the point he still appears human despite the changes, however- this form can ' break' during high stress situations or even peek through when he's hitting a hardcore metal part of a song. this looks like his eyes inverting colors (so the gold prick widens until it swallows up the whole eye - basically looking like the eyes on his mask), skin on his face becoming essentially losing its corporeal form in the sense it becomes 'void', a dark twisting mass of static energy.

#//i sat down and remembered how different he is in each time stamp n was like #//well he might not be a shape shifter by definition but he def do!! gradually #//also i rly like seeing him at all different states 'cause physique sort of ties into where he's at in character development imo #hc ; // the ribs are bussin'#long post #suggestive cw #binge eating cw

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emerald-notes · 2 years

Text

We Are Only Seven - Chapter 10 (Final)

Fandom: BTS Characters: OT7 (Devil!Namjoon, Demigod!Seokjin, Wizard!Yoongi, Angel!Hoseok, Werewolf!Taehyung, Gumiho!Jimin, Vampire!Jungkook) For a visual representation check these >>> VMinKook & NamJinSope Warning: Battle, death, injury, murder, suicide, slight swearing, angst, a little cheesy, betrayal etc. Word Count: 2.8k Words

Summary: In a world ruled by humans, the other worldly, non-humans are in hiding. But how long will it last this way?

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 [Complete]

They had escaped to the wood, made fire to keep themselves warm and hunted down animals to prepare for supper. Hoseok was lying on the ground, his head rested on Yoongi’s lap. Namjoon and Seokjin sat silently with them. The other ‘Bulletproof’ boys were spending time with the escaped prisoners. There were two vampires, a werewolf, three demigods, two elves and a satyr.

Taehyung was found to be alright and not badly hurt. He had recognized the werewolf from when he was a prisoner himself and they started a conversation. Jungkook talked with the vampires to learn about his servants; those who had been caught. He found out that they had been killed during the experiments. Jimin stayed quiet the whole time.

Meanwhile, Yoongi kept muttering a spell in an attempt to heal his unconscious friend of the wound that had been left on his back. But it didn’t seem to be working properly. Namjoon came closer and Yoongi noticed the tears on his cheeks.

Namjoon gently wiped them away with his hand and placed it on Hoseok’s back. Light sparkled through Hoseok’s wound for a moment. Then, it healed completely. Yoongi gasped in shock.

“I almost forgot,” Yoongi said, “You were an angel once.”

Namjoon nodded but remained silent. It was a common knowledge that an angel’s tears can heal any wound. Yoongi being an educated wizard, should have known that.

Seokjin stood up and announced, “I think, this is the time I part. I had caused enough trouble to you all. I know I’ve done something terrible and it’s beyond forgiveness. But if you can, please forget my mistakes and remember only the good parts of our journey together. Do this for the old time’s sake.”

“But you can’t just go away that easily.” Namjoon said boldly.

Seokjin was taken aback. Namjoon never sounded this serious before. Not even at the worst time possible.

Namjoon stood in front of him, arms crossed, and said, “Did you forget the iconic ‘Once you Jim-in, you can’t Jim-out’ line?”

Yoongi let out a small laugh. Seokjin couldn’t believe it. Namjoon was not mad at him. In fact, he was making jokes. He was even okay with him being on the team.

The golden trio had come towards them. Hearing Seokjin wanting to leave, Jungkook whined, "Hyung, you can’t leave us like that.”

“Especially, not after saving us like a hero.” Jimin said, while hanging a hand on Jungkook’s shoulder. “We are not gonna let you be the main character of the story.”

Yoongi pleaded, “Just let us know the truth. When did you go against us exactly? Don’t say it was since the beginning.”

Seokjin shook his head. Tears were threatening to come out of his eyes at the surprisingly kind reactions from the others. But he told them the truth anyway.

He told them, how he was once a normal boy living with his Goddess mother and mortal father. Until one day, Aphrodite decided to take him away to the Mount Olympus. Being a kid, he always wondered what the reason could be. He was sure of one thing; his mother was indifferent to him. She never showed love or affection towards him.

As he grew up, the longing for his father, who once used to love the boy so much, became stronger. Then, one day, Seokjin decided to escape Mount Olympus with the help of some other Gods. By his own wits, he was able to come down to the earth. He had been searching for his father since then.

“But then, I met Yoongi.” Seokjin said, “When I heard about his plan of bringing down the OHA, I decided to stay with the team in hope of finding my father. But I swear, I didn’t know he was the CEO of this fucked up institution. I don’t know what got into me when I agreed to help him. I believed him to be a good man. I never imagined he could be so cruel.”

“Everyone believes their father is a good man.” Taehyung sighed.

Suddenly, one of the elves came to interrupt them, “Don’t you think it would be wiser to leave the wood and go to a safe place?”

They exchanged some worried looks. Even though the OHA facility was being destroyed, all thanks to Seokjin’s explosion, they couldn’t be sure if their enemies were really gone or not. They couldn’t go back to their abandoned building and risk being attacked.

The elf continued, “I know a place. It’s the safest of places for beings like us. We should go to the ‘ARMY’.”

“ARMY?” The ‘Bulletproof’ boys asked in union.

Aid and Refuge for Mortals by Youths, in short ARMY, was a secret society formed by young people who believed in equality among humans and other intelligent beings. The members of this organization called themselves ARMY too. Being less in number and power, they ran their rescue missions of saving the non-humans from the OHA secretly. And these secret missions were the reason behind the OHA’s failures at the recent times.

The elf knew their hideout very well. He was on his way to seek help from them when he was caught by the wizards almost a year ago. Now, he led his rescuers and the fellow prisoners to the only safe place there was on earth.

There were minutes of confusion among the ARMY seeing a large number of non-humans gathering outside. Soon after Namjoon explained the situation clearly, the ARMY let themselves in.

They were then taken to the leader of the organization. Her name was Linha. Despite her tall figure and intimidating face, she was quite friendly and kind. She welcomed them with overwhelming joy and learned about each of them individually. Her eyes got teary as she learned how they had managed to escape the OHA and exploded their laboratories before coming to them.

“You did the impossible.” Linha exclaimed. It was her usual way of talking. “I can’t believe you did something in such a short time which we had been planning for so long.”

“All thanks to Seokjin.” Namjoon said, “He did almost everything.”

“Yeah,” Seokjin scoffed at himself, still not over the guilt he was feeling for betraying his friends, “after ruining our original plan completely.”

There were so many ARMY and other non-humans inside the pretty huge hideout. The ‘Bulletproof’ boys almost couldn’t believe the fact that so many humans were on their side and they were willing to fight for their freedom. They had spent most of their lives being afraid of the humans that accepting them as their friends was something they found difficult.

They learned that there were more humans out there on earth who believed in the equality too but couldn’t voice out their opinion in fear of the OHA. Some of them were even helping the ARMY with whatever they could offer, ranging from shelter for some beings to providing medical supports.

In order to celebrate the official downfall of the OHA, they arranged a huge feast for themselves along with the new comers. Everyone ate and drank to the fullest. The music was turned on and they danced and sang out their hearts.

Then, Linha made a great announcement, “From now on, we won’t hide anymore. We will declare our victory over the OHA. We will reveal it to the whole world that from today, we all live in unity. Humans, vampires, werewolves, elves, satyrs, centaurs, demigods,” she glanced at Hoseok for a while and added, “angels and many more. We all live in harmony and without fear.”

They all cried out with full of enthusiasm. But suddenly there was a blast. It made their whole ceiling crash. When they looked up, they could make out a figure with huge wings flying down towards them.

“What happened to the others?” Kim Joon-Hwi inquired about his guards and wizards.

“They’re all dead, sir.” The Master of shadow informed.

The Master was the only one to have escaped the OHA facility after the explosion. He, then, went straight to Kim Joon-Hwi, who had already made his escape after getting his most desired thing, an angel’s wings.

“Are you telling me that you have lost the Gumiho?” Kim Joon-Hwi asked, his tone deep and serious. When the Master looked down without replying, Kim Joon-Hwi let out a terrible laugh, “How will I survive after attaching the wings on myself if I failed to kill the Gumiho?”

The real reason for his desperation for the Gumiho was that, a Gumiho was the most powerful being to exist on earth. And if he had to attach the angel wings on himself in order to be as powerful as the Gods, he needed to kill someone powerful first.

“Sir,” The master spoke, “I think we should wait. I promise to find that Gumiho as soon as I can.”

“No!” Kim Joon-Hwi said rather calmly this time, “I have waited long enough.” The Master was about to interrupt but he held his hand up to silence him, “You have done enough all these years. In fact, it’s the result of your research that I am now going to be the most powerful.”

He went closer and rested his hand on the Master’s shoulder. The Master bowed in gratitude for the appreciation. But the next moment, he felt a sharp pain on his back. He fell to the ground with a loud groan when he realized that he had been stabbed.

“You think I didn’t know who killed the last Gumiho on our laboratory?” Kim Joon-Hwi stated to the dying man before him. “I know why you had joined the company in the first place. You wanted power.” Then, he laughed manically and added, “Killing a powerful wizard like you will serve my purpose.”

The Master of Shadow struggled to say his last words, “Yoongi. Was. Right.”

But Kim Joon-Hwi didn’t pay any heed to it. He kneeled down to whisper, “Goodbye to you! From now on, you can rest all you want.”

Kim Joon-Hwi looked deadly with the wings on his back. The veins on his body had popped up within his skin. His eyes were red and they glowed when he shouted or showed any excitement. The wind he created by flapping his wings can overthrow Jimin’s old hut in a second.

“Father?” Seokjin whispered in disbelief.

“Everyone, grab your weapons!” Linha shouted her instructions at others. Then, they all were busy getting hold onto a weapon they could find.

“Fools!” Kim Joon-Hwi screamed, “I am inevitable now. Accept me as your new God if you don’t wish to die.”

Seokjin tried to step forward to speak to him. But Yoongi held him back and said, “Not now! He’s more dangerous than ever before.”

“But…” Seokjin was interrupted by a sudden explosion. An Army had thrown a bomb at the monster. But he soon came out of the smoke, laughing gigantically, proving his statement earlier.

The ARMY knew that it was too late. There was no way they could win against this monster. But they were not going to give up. They would rather die fighting. And with that mindset, they jumped.

No explosion, bullets or arrows could penetrate his skin. On the other hand, the ARMYs and the supernaturals were badly hurt. Some of them were already dead. Seokjin looked around the miseries. His heart clenched inside when he noticed one of his friend taking a flight to fight his monstrous father face to face.

“Namjoon!” Seokjin called to stop him.

“Why don’t you fight someone your equal, instead?” Namjoon yelled at Kim Joon-Hwi, who was pointing at a satyr with a gun on his hand.

He looked back at Namjoon and snarled at him, “Did you just compared me with yourself, you pathetic devil?”

“Why?” Namjoon smirked, “Are you scared?”

Without a delay, Kim Joon-Hwi launched himself on him and they flew away from the sight of the rest.

“No!” Seokjin screamed, “Namjoon, please come back.”

But they were nowhere to be seen. All around, the only sounds were of the burning and wailing of the injured. Everyone got busy helping out the wounded. Some of them were even grateful that the monster had spared them some time. Some were mourning for the death of their closed ones.

Hoseok collected the ‘Bulletproof’ boys from the crowd one by one and made sure none of them were hurt. They reached Seokjin last. Taehyung called, “Thank God, you’re here.”

“Where’s Namjoon?” Jimin asked. But Seokjin didn’t answer. Jungkook and Taehyung gasped as they realized Namjoon was the one who had driven away that monster.

Suddenly, Jimin sat on the ground. All of their attentions shot to him. “I think… I see something.” He said. He shut his eyes closed tightly, his brows furrowed.

Yoongi went closer to sit beside him, “Is it a vision?”

Jimin nodded violently and said, “He’s dead. Kim Joon-Hwi’s dead. And…” He stopped for a while. He looked as if he were concentrating on a scene with his eyes closed.

“Who killed him?” Yoongi asked. Everyone paid more attention.

“I can see wings.”

“An angel?” Yoongi asked in disbelief, glancing at Hoseok for a while.

Jimin opened his eyes abruptly and gasped, “Namjoon.” He declared, “Namjoon’s the angel who was supposed to bring the demise of the OHA.”

Namjoon stood at the entrance door, Hoseok’s formal wings hanging on his hands. He looked exhausted, which was rarely visible on his face. Jungkook ran to hug him without a delay.

Namjoon spoke to the others after Jungkook released him, “Kim Joon-Hwi’s dead. We have nothing to fear anymore.”

Everyone cheered and shouted in excitement. Some of them patted Namjoon on his back and thanked him. After minutes of celebrating the good news, everyone went back to their business; fixing the aftermath of the short but terrible battle.

The dawn had broken. Seokjin sat at the edge of the lake and gazed at the rising sun. Namjoon came to sit beside him. Seokjin glanced at him and looked back at the sun again. He said, “You’re the true hero. You’ve saved everyone.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.” Namjoon said in a low voice.

Seokjin let out a fake laugh and said, “Don’t apologize. You did the right thing. If I had done it earlier, Hoseok still would have his wings. Not to mention how many people could have been saved.”

“Do you want to know what happened exactly?” Namjoon hesitantly asked.

“Surprisingly, yes!” Seokjin turned to face him, “I’m still stupid enough to care to know how my father died.”

Namjoon nodded understandingly and said, “I gave him a chance to save himself, you know, for your sake. But he said, he would rather die than live with the pity of a devil.” Namjoon let out a painful laughter.

A tear escaped Seokjin’s eyes as he spoke, “He would definitely choose his pride over me. And I’m not even surprised. After all, it wasn’t the first time.”

“I’m sorry you couldn’t have the happily ever after with your family.” Namjoon said.

The other ‘Bulletproof’ boys joined the couple. They sat down quietly and enjoyed the sun rise. At a point, Taehyung asked Seokjin, “Are you going back to your mother now?”

Seokjin didn’t reply. Instead, he asked Hoseok, “Why aren’t you going back to the heaven?”

Hoseok shrugged and said, “There’s nothing to go back to. I’ve already found my true family here on earth.” He rested his head on Yoongi’s shoulder.

Seokjin looked back at Taehyung and smiled. “Exactly.” He whispered, which brought out the best box smile on Taehyung’s face.

“I want to say something.” Jungkook mumbled, “I don’t know if I can ever say this if not today.”

Everyone looked up at him as he slowly rose up to stand. He continued with a heavy voice, “As far as I can remember, I was just a vampire with thirst for blood only. I didn’t have a family or even friends. The only thing I cared about was surviving. I never knew how much I was missing out on life until… Until I met Jimin and Taehyung. They took me in as their own. Then, you guys showed up. I learned what it is to actually live and not just survive. I am eternally grateful to you for that.” He paused for a moment before adding, “I… I love you, guys.”

They looked at him in admiration. They had never heard Jungkook opening up about his feelings to them at any time throughout their times together. Hearing him speaking such words melted their hearts.

Jimin went straight to hug him, “I’m glad I’ve found you that night.” Taehyung joined from behind. Hoseok stood up and said, “Guys, my eyes are sweating. Help!” before going for the hug too. Yoongi tailed him from behind as well. Namjoon gestured Seokjin to join the group hug. Seokjin smiled and did as he was asked to.

Finally, it was Namjoon to join them last. As he did, he slowly spread out his huge black wings to shelter the members on the inside.

Note: Thank you to everyone for sticking with me till the end. Thank you for taking your precious time to read my story. Thank you for all the little feedbacks you had left. It means a lot to me. By the way, it was my first proper series. I finished it in a hurry due to an upcoming exam. And I am a little disappointed coz it didn’t come out as I’ve expected. But I hope to improve my writings in the future.

My Masterlist

Tag List: @bts-ruu,

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narrativelysignificantturtleduck · 1 year

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a playlist for our favorite dilf ship! annotations under the cut:

italics = bato, bold = hakoda, both = both

1. my heart dreams - black belt eagle scout

wasting this life, i only want me and you

shamelessly stolen from @meteor-sword 's bakoda playlist. about bato pining for hakoda while hakoda's with kya.

2. no fire - s. grant parker

i rearrange all my intentions / just to keep you on the line / and when you pull away / your voice is still in my head

a song about resigning yourself to not being someone's top priority and learning to be content with the little bit of their attention you get. bato is not way down in hakoda's priorities, but after hakoda gets married and has kids, bato's definitely not the top of the list, and he has to adjust to that.

3. snow ii - wyvern lingo

his eyes meet mine / i try to stop myself from crying / and I know my love grows / like the silence of snow

after kya's death, bato all but moves in, supporting the family and hakoda through the grieving process. it's absolutely the wrong time to be falling in love again, but caring for hakoda can't help but bring up those feelings.

4. pure cinema - thao & the get down stay down

won't you stay a while? / find your family / let them anchor you / in the open sea

5. pangaea - i'm with her

they leave for war, and while they feel quite driftless for a while, they eventually create their own family amongst the warriors (as described in bato's lone wolf speech). they grow closer during this time.

5. epiphany - taylor swift

with you, i serve / with you, i fall down

the first verse of the song is about soldiers, with the line "sir, i think he's bleeding out" - bato being injured in battle. the second verse is about medical workers, with the line "someone's mother, someone's daughter" - modern au kya's death and katara as witness to it. both verses end with "and some things you just can't speak about" - the war trauma and kya's death being two deeply painful things hakoda has trouble processing. and bato is by his side through it all.

oh, it's a lonely life / everybody lives, everybody dies / when the earth shifts and you leave me on the other side

hakoda has to make the decision to leave bato behind at the abbey.

6. little joys - maggie rogers

with no injury to claim / i'm a big mess of little joys / my blue eyes are wrapped in grey / i'm a big mess of little joys

hakoda is happy that bato will be okay, but he's sad to leave him behind.

7. king and lionheart - of monsters and men

taking over this town, they should worry

THE song for the fearless leader and their loyal second-in-command. i made a video here that has as much bakoda as i could manage given their limited screentime

8. coming around again - carly simon

i know nothing stays the same / but if you're willing to play the game / it's coming around again

a bakoda playlist should, by all rights, have dad rock on it, but unfortunately, i am not well-versed in dad rock. this is the closest i've got - it was on a best of carly simon album my mom used to play in the car. mom-pop. it's always struck me as a song about love between adults, about all the mundane parts of relationships, about how you fuck up and things change but you still love each other. it seems apt for bakoda, who are full-on Adults With Kids who've known each other for years, very much not some young first love story but still very much in love.

#bakoda #bato #hakoda #my playlists

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craighanley13 · 2 months

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amjustagirl · 3 years

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CHAPTER 2 - FALLEN

Fic Summary:

The sky Oikawa Tooru’s heart seeks is a world away from the earth yours is buried in. You are a fool to trust him with your heart anyway.

Where Oikawa Tooru tries to recapture your heart.

Chapter 1 // Chapter 2 // Chapter 3

Pairing: Oikawa Tooru x fem! reader

Genre / Wordcount : Angst (7k words), cameo from MSBY 4

Warnings: One non-explicit bedroom scene.

Masterlist link here!

Tag list link here!

You catch sight of Oikawa Tooru as you bustle through the hospital’s sliding doors, your usual cup of coffee in your hand that you buy on the way to work. He’s seated in the waiting area next to a middle aged man you guess must be his manager, from the way he jumps to his feet immediately to act as a human shield as you call out breathlessly -

“T - Oikawa? What are you doing here?”

Tooru’s head swivels around to meet your gaze, and you’re shocked by the lifelessness in his eyes until you glance at the bandages wrapped around his swollen knee.

Oh.

You try not to stare, but you do so anyway. The sight of your ex-boyfriend makes you feel as if you’re seeing a ghost, a specter from some past life. You last saw him when he was twenty one, young and proud, wax wings fully spread, a speck in the skies. What a difference five years makes. His shoulders are still broad, and the tilt of his jaw is still proud, but the light in his eyes has faded to darkness, and the pallor of his skin suggests far too much time spent away from the sun.

Icarus, Icarus. Your hubris has led you to such heights, but look how far you’ve fallen.

It’s surprising there’s no news of his injury, considering he’s one third of Japan’s trifecta of setters in the volleyball scene’s monster generation. With the Olympics rapidly approaching with just over a year to go, an injury must be devastating, especially to Oikawa Tooru, with dreams of Olympic greatness and victory on his native shores.

A nurse materialises to usher Oikawa away for surgery before he can respond to the pity in your gaze. You look around. He’s alone, save for his manager. No one deserves to be wake up alone after surgery, so you call after him -

“I’ll check in on you after you’re done! Gambatte!”

He responds with a thumbs up and a weak smile.

You flip through his medical files once you get the chance.

Oikawa Tooru, twenty six. Pro-volleyball player for EJP Raijin previously, currently playing in the Argentinian league. Narrowly missed out on making the cut for the previous Olympics, but went on to represent Japan in the last three World Cups, alternating with Miya Atsumu and Kageyama Tobio. Obviously hoping for another shot at the Olympics, but that’s looking bleak from what you’re gleaning from his medical records.

His right knee has always bothered him, even during his high school days. Now, a decade later, it looks like he’s managed to tear his tendon to shreds.

Volleyball is a cruel, demanding mistress, especially for one not born a genius.

The surgery to repair a torn knee ligament is delicate work, requiring an experienced surgeon, and the road to recovery requires extensive physiotherapy. It’s no wonder he’s resorted to the modern Tokyo hospital you work in rather than returning to his native Sendai to recuperate. The downside of doing so though, is that he’d have to recover alone.

You wrinkle your nose. He may be your ex-boyfriend, but he doesn’t deserve that.

The sun is setting when you finally find the time to slip into his room.

As expected, he’s still asleep. The anesthetic will take some time to wear off. From the looks of the surgeon’s notes, the surgery was a success - though you know from the nature and extent of the injury that his road to recovery will be long and winding.

So you seat yourself in the visitor’s chair with a hot cup of tea and an onigiri to stave off your hunger at not finding time for a break any earlier. You had an awful day at work today, two of your patients puked on you, another tried to fight you when you drew his blood, and the senior registrar in the ward assigned you a mountain of paperwork that you only just managed to complete, so you give in to sleep yourself as exhaustion settles into your bones.

“Princess?”

You snap awake at the familiar nickname, ignoring the flush working its way up the back of your neck as you leap to his bedside to check his vitals, only relaxing when you’re satisfied everything’s fine.

“You’re just waking up after a surgery, Oikawa”. When his forehead crinkles in confusion at the sound of his surname, you correct yourself. “I mean - Tooru”. The corners of his cracked lips tilt up in satisfaction.

“Will you stay with me?” Tooru murmurs, eyelids beginning to droop again.

You smile fondly despite yourself. “Do you want me to?” you ask.

He manages to pout even as he’s falling back asleep. “I asked, didn’t I?”

You smooth his hair from his forehead, slotting your hand into his. “Fine, fine. Go to bed, sleeping beauty”.

He huffs an amused breath from his nose before he closes his eyes, contented. Trust Tooru to be shameless enough to cling on to his ex-girlfriend without a shred of awkwardness. You end up staying in his room for hours, watching him sleep.

The heart that you’ve locked away behind bars of bone and steel twitches, just once.

You frown when the nurse catches your sleeve. “A patient’s looking for you” she says, just as you’re about to go off on a short break.

“Who?” you reply, wondering whether it’s Sato-san who vomited this morning, or Imai-san whose blood pressure niggles at your mind. You do not expect the nurse to flush pink as she replies - “Oikawa-san”, describing the sweet young man with lovely brown eyes and such a charming voice.

You slip back into his room when your shift ends. You expect to see a shadow of a man with broken wings, and you do catch a fleeting glimpse of Tooru staring wistfully out of the window, face tilted towards the sun before he turns to you with a wide smile and a pleased - “you came!”

This is the Oikawa Tooru you are accustomed to dealing with. “Stop flirting with the nurses”, you tell him briskly, bustling over to look at his files. “They have jobs to do, don’t use them to carry messages to me.”

“But I’m boredddd.”

“I’m sure you have volleyball videos to watch.”

“I watched them all day today. ‘Sides, I watched all the matches on today already, twice – and I have plenty of time to watch them a third time. I have plenty of time to catch up with you, I haven’t seen you in so long!”

Five years since you broke up to be exact, but you sidestep that fact neatly, pouring over his medical file instead. His doctors’ notes indicate his recovery is promising. He brightens up when you tell him so, playfully complaining that hospital food is shit in a thinly veiled attempt to steal your food, a habit he’s clearly not outgrown. But you’re not all that hungry anyway, so you split your pork bun in half and hand it to him, dropping into the visitor’s chair.

“So how’re you feeling?”

“Like shit. My knee hurts so muchhhh.”

You shrug, careless. “That’s pretty expected, to be honest.”

“Hmph. I thought they’d have taught you some bedside manners in medical school”, he snipes, though the effect is rather lost when his cheeks are comically round and full of food.

You laugh, the stress from your day lifting from your shoulders.

“I seem to forget them when it’s you.”

“So mean”, he pouts, hiding the familiar gleam in his eye that appears whenever he’s trying to analyse his opponents, take them apart. “As punishment, tell me about yourself. What have you been up to these days?”

You decide to treat him like any old friend, giving him the condensed run down of your professional life, how you’ve graduated from medical school (with top marks I bet, he interjects), how you chose to stay in Tokyo instead of returning to Sendai (your parents must miss you he says, and you brush him off with an airy they have other children, they’ll survive), how you chose to work in this hospital because you’re considering a specialisation in Orthopedic surgery (because of your grandma, I bet, he says, and you choose not to correct that, using your silence as a lie).

He in turn tells you about the highlights of his career, how he’s spent a year at EJP Raijin before he was headhunted to the Argentinian league, how he spent four years overseas save for summers back in Japan to train with the national team, how he’s hopeful, even now, of recovering and fighting for his spot on the Olympic roster next year.

You already knew all of that from news alerts on your phone you never forced yourself to delete, diverting him instead with a question about life in Argentina, nodding as he reminisces about his apartment in San Juan where he gets to watch the sun set over the Andes mountains, the kitchen that he stuffed full of Japanese groceries like daishi and mirin and sake and miso in his first year there just so he has a tangible reminder of home.

You stop yourself from wondering whether he thinks about the little home he shared with you with such fondness. That time has passed.

His voice wavers as he spins you stories about his teammates - Matteo, whose family owns a vineyard and taught him to appreciate wine like a proper Argentinian, Miguel, who makes the best empanadas and gets roaring drunk every time they win a match, Gabriel, who takes him to his family’s home in the mountains every other weekend because his grandmother is convinced that a single young man without family in the city will starve if he’s left to his own devices.

It seems his wings were durable enough for him to soar across the oceans, his grit and determination the foundation of the new life he’s built, whole continents away.

“It’s funny how the world works”, you remark off hand. “I never expected to see you again.”

His eyes gleam again. “The universe seems to work in funny ways.”

You start spending breaks in his room, scarfing down your lunch and dinner while he talks your ear off about the horrible sitcoms or ridiculous game shows he’s watched today. You catch him watching a video of Kageyama’s serves and you’re amused when he practically hisses when you comment idly that his kouhai has certainly improved since his high school days.

You ignore his spluttered protests that service records aren’t everything and besides, his own spike serves have definitely won Japan a game or two last year until, with the air of a boy king, he commands you to sit next to him on the hospital bed so he can pull up a compilation of his serves and his best moments.

Years might have passed, but you’re still hopeless at refusing him. Besides, isn’t it better that you distract him from the sorry state of his knee? So you do as he says, ignoring the faint flutter of your traitorous heart as he leans into your side.

“See? I told you my spike serves are amazing?”

“Yes, yes. I already knew that. I watched so many of your practices in university, remember?”

He looks at you strangely. “Did you?” he asks, leaning his head on his hand, eyes boring into yours.

You think of evenings spent sitting on the bleachers, homework in your lap as you watch as the boy you love builds the strength in his wax wings in preparation for his eventual flight. “Yes”, you admit, sheets rustling as you shift away from him, avoiding his perplexed frown. “You were probably too focused on practice to notice.”

You already know you shouldn’t spend so much time in his room, but you’ve spent most of your life doing what you should instead of what you want to so just this once, you ignore rational thought in favour of sentiment.

After all, he’ll be discharged from hospital in a week, then you’ll never see him again.

Tooru promptly proves you wrong the day before he’s scheduled to be discharged.

“I need someone to help me move into my apartment.”

“Hire a mover”, you tell him. You don’t even look up from your notes.

“Already did”, he chirps, undaunted by your apparent disinterest. “But it’d be nice to have a friend who I know will be nice enough to help poor old crippled me put my stuff away.” Then he grins cheekily, “plus I checked with that pretty nurse – Yuna-san was it? Anyway, she told me you’re off tomorrow, so you might as well spend the day with me.”

There goes your excuse to wriggle out of having to spend your rare day off with your ex.

“I have a mountain of sleep debt to pay off”, you protest, but faced with wide brown eyes and an embarrassing wobble of his lip, you comply. Still, you manage to get the promise of a free dinner out of him, so you suppose it’ll do.

Tooru doesn’t have much to unpack, a couple of cardboard boxes of clothes and books, probably because most of his belongings are still in Argentina. He laughs and raises his hands in an attempt to placate you when you lift an eyebrow, first at the lack of kitchen equipment in his furnished apartment, second at the weights and volleyball he tries to smuggle in behind your back.

“You’re not supposed to exercise for at least a month or two”, you cluck your tongue, sighing with disapproval at the furtive look he casts at the volleyball sitting at the corner of his living room.

“I can set while sitting on a stool! Don’t scold me, my heart can’t bear it”. He throws a hand across his face, brow creased dramatically.

Icarus, Icarus. You’ve already fallen once. Will you seek out the sun again?

A string of familiarity loops into a knot over your heart. If you close your eyes and count to ten, you can imagine that you’re eighteen again, chiding the boy you love for practicing too hard. But you’re twenty six now, a full fledged adult who should know better than to dabble in sentiment again (especially when it comes to brown eyed boys who only dream of the sun), so you slash through the threads connecting you to him with a flash of your teeth, bury your beating heart deeper into the dungeon you’ve built years ago of white bone and solid steel.

“Do what you want, but your neighbours will hate you if you keep thumping that damn ball against the wall.” You say, simply, dismissively.

“No one could ever hate me”, he declares with bravado. “I’ll charm them all with my charm and good looks.”

“Ridiculous”, you huff, dumping the last of his clothing into the cupboard. “Where’s the dinner you promised? I want ramen and gyoza at least.”

“So demanding”, he lilts. “I’ll order in. Tonkatsu ramen with char siu, bamboo shoots, extra spring onions with gyoza on the side?”

Your heart struggles against its shackles. He still remembers your order.

“Yes”, you finally say. “You got that right.”

He grins at you cheekily, as if to say of course.

After you gulp down your ramen, devour your gyozas, you pack up, ready to leave. You have an early shift tomorrow, and you’re already dreaming about your soft bed whilst dreading the cup of coffee you’ll have to down tomorrow morning just to stay awake.

He catches your wrist, presses the spare key to the apartment into your hand. “Come back. I want to see you again”, he says, an order and not a plea.

You are about to make up an excuse, tell him anything but the truth that you suspect it’s bad for your heart to keep seeing him again.

“Please” - he adds with a tint of fragility to his voice.

“I’ll be back when I can”, you finally say.

“Tomorrow?” he looks up at you with hopeful eyes.

“We’ll see”, you pry your hand loose from his grasp, slip out the front door.

You stay away for two days, citing your work schedule as an excuse until he wears you down with a barrage of cutesy line stickers aimed at driving home how lonely he is and how much he misses your presence. You’re being dramatic as usual, you text him dryly, but you turn up anyway at his apartment on a Friday night, letting yourself in with an armful of reports and a bucket of oden.

“How’re you doing? Are you listening to your physiotherapist? Eating properly? Sleeping well?”

“You sound like my mother”, he grouses, rolling his wheelchair to the dining table.

You flick at his forehead, he slumps back in his wheelchair. “Stop bullying the cripple’, he wheezes through his chortle.

“You deserve it”, you retort. “Don’t run away from the question. How’re you feeling?”

“It still hurts”, he admits with a mock sniff. “It should stop hurting by nowwww.”

You push your glasses up the bridge of your nose. “That’s to be expected. Your sinews just got stitched together two weeks ago. Not sure why you’d expect any less.”

“Bah, rude. At least you didn’t say I told you so”, he grumbles, spooning oden into his mouth. “That would be insufferable.”

“Well, maybe you’ll listen to me now that I’m actually a doctor”, you inform him pertly, batting away memories of a teenage boy with hazel eyes shouting indignantly at you after practice in the Seijoh gym.

Tooru snorts. “I can’t believe my eighteen year old self was dumb enough to open my future self up to a jab like that”, he complains, chewing on a cabbage roll grumpily.

“We’re all dumb at eighteen”, you remark. “You’re no exception.”

“You were dumb enough to date me”, he teases with a mocking smile.

Your spoon slips from your hand momentarily. It’s the first time he’s alluded to your past relationship.

“I was, wasn’t I”, you say lightly, before turning the conversation to Tooru’s physiotherapy sessions.

You have no wish to delve back into the past, but you’re willing to be his friend since he seems to need one for now.

Tooru’s knee recovers enough for him to shift from his wheelchair to crutches, which he points at you playfully, mimicking a gun every time you pop by for a visit. He seems to plan his physiotherapy session around your schedule, just so he can wheedle you into paying him yet another visit when your shift at the hospital end, bribing you with a cup of coffee with a hint of chocolate from the café across the street that you’ve never found the time to visit.

“Thank you, kind sir”, you say, accepting the coffee with a laugh.

“You’re welcome, my lady”, he answers with a smirk, motioning you to follow him for yet another evening to be spent in his home sitting across him, red ink smeared on your hands as you mark up the reports in your lap.

His façade that he’s coping with his injury just fine slips every so often. You catch him more often than not watching compilation videos of Kageyama and Atsumu at the World Cup this year with a strained expression on his face, or resting his chin on the windowsill whilst staring wistfully at the birds in the sky.

He does not confide about his worries to you. You’re not sure you want him to.

But you can’t explain to yourself the impulse to purchase a bird feeder for his balcony, nor the glow-in-the-dark poster of the constellations that you cart into his bedroom until your heart has to scramble for equilibrium when he thanks you, his smile soft.

“In exchange for all the coffee you’ve bought me”, you reply, turning away to hide all evidence of your heart’s betrayal, the diffusion of blood in your cheeks.

A month passes. Then another.

The crutches get kept in the storeroom. A limp remains, but the degree which his knee can bend increases by the day. His mood improves even further, and you constantly find yourself swerving to avoid his affectionate gazes, his attempts at flirtation.

“You’re looking so pretty today!” he lilts, fitting his arm snugly into the crook of your elbow as you walk down the neon lit streets of Tokyo. He insisted on this outing, and in the custom of your rekindled friendship, managed to convince you to accompany him on your off day so he can get crepes from Harajuku notwithstanding the fact that it takes forty five minutes on the train and his knee still acts up from time to time.

“It’s my first time downtown in a month”, you tell him. “Of course I’m going to dress up.” You don’t tell him you spent far too long in front of your closet, tossing outfits on your bed until you found one that complements you just right.

He buys you trinkets, hair accessories that you’ll never wear, tries to win you ridiculous stuffed toys from the claw machine.

“You’re wasting money”, you scold, wiping the whipped cream from his mouth.

“It’s not a waste if it’s for you”, he tells you, with startling sincerity that you still doubt.

He doesn’t mean it, you tell yourself. It’s just Tooru being Tooru.

You refuse to admit what’s staring you in the face until you have to duck your head to avoid his attempt at pressing his lips to your cheek.

“Goodnight, Tooru”, you manage to say before you bolt off into the night. You check to make sure your heart is still under lock and key.

It is, but it beats resentfully. Tooru, it beats against its bars with frightening intensity. Tooru. Tooru.

You ignore it. You know what’s best for it.

You stay away from him for a fortnight, requesting for a change in your schedule without updating him, taking the other exit from the hospital so you don’t have to see him. You stay away until he manages to wear you down yet again, texting you the most ridiculous conspiracy theories about your absence from his life – you must be abducted by aliens, he texts you once, or your mother forced you to marry some stranger, I can break you out if you just say the word.

He has a guest, you hear another voice, deeper, filled with gravel and intensity, so different from Tooru’s lighter lilt. You do not mean to eavesdrop, but you don’t want to interrupt Tooru when he has a rare guest over, and there’s nowhere else for you wait save for the dusty front step, so you settle yourself in, pen poised to continue your work.

“What did the doctor say? When are you coming back for practice?”

“I’m doing good! The physiotherapist thinks I can try light exercise next week. If all goes well, I’ll be back to practice in a month.”

“Sounds promising.”

“I had a good medical team. And I’m actually resting properly!”

“Shittykawa. Stop sounding so proud about doing what’s necessary for your recovery.”

“Iwa-channnn, stop being mean to meeee!”

Ah, Iwaizumi, of course. You haven’t seen him in years, but you remember him from school, a stoic boy with a good heart. You wonder if he’s changed.

“Are you planning on heading back to Argentina?”

Tooru answers without hesitation. “Of course”, he says airily. “As long as they take me back.”

Your foolish heart shudders with disappointment. Of course. If you run your fingers down his spine, you’ll probably find blooms of wax attached to his very bone.

You are about to stand up and leave when Tooru speaks up again.

“But I’m going to enjoy my time in Japan while I’m back. Did I tell you I reconnected with my ex? She’s great, it feels like I never left.”

The firestorm of blood in your ears nearly drowns out Iwaizumi’s growled ‘piece of shit’ (he truly hasn’t changed after all), the clatter of glassware as Tooru protests that he’s not playing with your heart, he truly cares about you, his sullen silence when Iwaizumi demands what’s going to happen when he leaves Japan for Argentina, when he inevitably leaves you behind (yet again).

Of course.

You know his heart longs for the sky. There is no space for you.

You barely have time to react when the door swings open, Iwaizumi on the verge of storming out. You plaster a smile to your face that does not fool him, but you hang on to it nonetheless, cracks appearing only when he gives you a wide eyed look of sympathy that only pours oil onto the flaming war between your brain and your heart.

“It’s fine”, you say, and though he clearly does not believe you, he bows and leaves anyway.

Tooru stares at you, mouth open, stumbling over himself with apologies and demands for you to tell him what you’ve overheard, but you motion for him to just stop with your hand, wave aside his protest that he means what he said, he truly likes you.

Your heart screeches in delight, but your mind is firmly in the driver’s seat.

“Let’s just pretend I never heard you say that, and we can continue just as before.”

“As friends?” he says, twisting his lips as if the words taste sour in his mouth. He clutches at your shoulders.

“I want more. I want you.”

Your heart thrums in agreement, but you recall assembling the remains of your heart back into your chest whilst kneeling on the cold bathroom floor half a decade ago. The span of five years should have molded you to view your shared past with pragmatism, but your heart seems to have forgotten its lesson. You shake your head.

“There’s no way you truly want me. I don’t think you’ve only ever had space in your heart for anything but your goals.”

Your response emerges more bitter than you intend.

“That’s not true”, he weakly protests. “I care about you.”

Not enough, you refrain from telling him. “Let’s remain friends”, you do say, and he opens his mouth to object again, but at the hard look you give him, he slumps back with a defeated nod.

He tries to respect your decision, never complaining when you keep a careful arm’s length distance from him, though you can feel his heated gaze on you whenever he thinks you won’t notice, hear his quiet sighs whenever you shy away from any accidental touch. He droops when you turn down his invite for lunch with his family when they come down for a visit, citing work even though he knows you’re off for the day.

Still, it’s manageable and he says he needs you, so you return for visits, at least twice weekly, offering encouraging smiles and friendly words when he returns first to light exercise, then to rehabilitative practice a month later, just as he predicted.

He carves out time for dinners with you, taking care to ask about your day, preferring to spin you stories about the pigeons and doves and crows crowding his balcony rather than talking about volleyball or his practice. He insists on escorting you to his apartment after work when you allow him to, offering you his arm with a soft smile that disarms you, dissolves any resistance.

It’s an uneasy equilibrium, but it’ll suffice.

The careful balance you’ve maintained in the space between you and Tooru is shattered when you find you’re not the only one who’s decided to pay him a surprise visit on a Friday night.

“Tooru, ya didn’t say ya got yerself a pretty girl during yer break”, a man with bleach blonde hair wolf whistles appreciatively when you step into the apartment.

“I’m just a friend”, you reply confusedly before Tooru’s shout “Shove off, Miya” confirms that one Miya Atsumu has decided to invade Tooru’s apartment. Well, him and what seems like half the MSBY team, with Hinata Shoyo, Bokuto Koutaro and Sakusa Kiyoomi squashed uncomfortably on Tooru’s tiny sofa, long legs stretched across the living room.

It turns out the MSBY team just finished a game in Tokyo, and Hinata dragged his teammates to visit Tooru in a wholesome bid to cheer him up. You try to excuse yourself after exchanging nods with Sakusa (he hasn’t changed much from his university days) when Miya Atsumu blocks your retreat with a drawled invite for Izakaya and the promise of karaoke after.

Tooru mouths playfully at you don’t leave me alone with these clowns (you’re tempted to point out that he’s very much one himself), and before you can even blink, you find yourself dragged along to the nearest Izakaya, impressed by the amount of food each man polishes off - skewers of chicken hearts and cartilage, bowls of potato salad and rice with braised pork belly, listening to stories of their exploits on the national team together, stumbling into the karaoke bar tipsy from the beers that Miya Atsumu pressed into your hand, head heavy enough to allow him to wind an arm around your waist.

“She’s too old for you, ‘Tsumu-kun”, Tooru trills, inserting himself in between you and Atsumu, mouth taut with aggravation.

“I’m not old, just a year older”, you roll your eyes, as the blonde setter backs away, lips turned up in amusement. Tooru is not placated, muttering how the younger setter is a douche and a sleeze bag as he drapes his jacket over you like a blanket. You nestle against his side, head on his shoulder as his arm rests protectively around you.

Atsumu watches this with raised eyebrows, whistling slowly, opening his mouth to remark that he’s never seen Oikawa so smitten before when Hinata interrupts with a chirped “‘Tsum-Tsum, join me!”, handing him a microphone while bouncing on the balls of his feet.

Karaoke is the most fun you’ve had in ages. Hinata and Bokuto and Atsumu sing all their favourite anime theme songs with gusto - Atsumu even gets misty eyed when he croons Sparkle by Radwimps, reddening when everyone teases him for being a romantic sap, Bokuto shaking his hips to Western pop hits, Hinata showing off his Spanish skills. Sakusa refuses to even touch the microphone but you suppose it’s a win that he’s even in the karaoke booth with all of you.

Tooru slaps away Atsumu’s attempts at handing you any further alcohol, forcing you to down cups of water until you are no longer glassy eyed, but still tipsy enough to agree to sing ridiculous K-On songs with Hintata and Bokuto, not stopping even when Tooru whips out his phone to video the entire performance with an indulgent smile.

“Delete it!” you squeal, losing your balance when you try swiping the phone out of his hands, tripping into his lap instead.

“In your dreams, princess”, Tooru chuckles, his arms snaking around you like a vise.

“Anndd that’s our cue to call it a night”, Atsumu quips, herding Hinata and Bokuto out onto the street, Sakusa heaving an audible sigh of relief. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, kids!” he calls over his shoulder, throwing you a wink.

“I’m technically his senpai, cheeky brat”, Tooru mutters, the irritation in his voice washing away as you giggle. “C’mon, it’s too late for you to get home and my place is nearer to the hospital so you might as well stay over tonight. You can take the bed, I’ll take the sofa.”

You shake your head, arguing that you couldn’t possibly turn an invalid like him out of his bed but he huffs at the insinuation that he’s anything but well, his knee almost whole again. You give in after he convinces you that it’d be more inconvenient for him to escort you all the way to your own home rather than put you up for the night, and you allow him to loop his arm around yours and lead you back to his apartment.

It’s not the first time you’ve been in his apartment this late, not by a long shot, but it is the first time you’re over with the intention of staying over. The t-shirt you borrow from Tooru hangs off your frame, the scent of the fabric softener Tooru uses is familiar. You would’ve preferred being tipsier to dull your senses, but alcohol would only impair your logic, allow your heart to prevail, so you try to quell the thrumming of your blood in your veins by curling up on a seat by the window with a cup of tea when Tooru emerges from his shower.

“Ready for bed?” he asks, towelling off his hair, frowning when you shake your head. “It’s late, you have work tomorrow, even if it’s the afternoon shift.”

“It’s fine”, you say without turning your head to face him. “Go to bed, I’ll take the couch.”

“I’m insulted, princess. What kind of a man d’you think I am to make his guest sleep on the couch? ”

It’s less dangerous to ignore him, so you pay him no mind, choosing instead to lean your chin in your hand and look up towards the night sky. It soothes you, the moon an old friend, reminding of five years’ worth of quiet nights spent in your own flat, filtering your younger self into adulthood.

“What’re you looking at?” He takes a step forward, kneels down next to you.

“The moon and the stars”, you say dreamily. “They’re pretty tonight.”

A myriad of weather conditions must coincide to allow the stars to even be visible in the polluted Tokyo night sky, but tonight of all nights fate intervenes, the stars align. The sky is cloudless, the full moon hangs heavy, the stars shimmer and dance.

“Are they?” Tooru whispers. “I haven’t noticed.”

You finally turn to look at him. “Why’re you staring at me?”

The unconscious echo of your past - a boy and a girl, falling in love under the same night sky makes his mouth twist wistfully, eyes faded gold.

“Because you are my sun, my moon and my stars. I love you better than anything in the sky.”

Your mouth falls open, your heart suddenly roaring, pounding against its restraints.

“You can’t mean that”, you whisper. “Don’t say it if you don’t mean it.”

“I do”, he says, with heartbreaking sincerity. “And I always will.”

Nostalgia, aided by the lingering alcohol in your veins opens the gate to your foolish heart. You want to pretend that you are eighteen again, without a care in the world, indulging in the warmth of his hand on the small of your back, the caress of his breath on your cheek. Your lips beckon his, swallowing the catch of his breath when your hands slide under his shirt.

“Are you sure about this?” His eyes are hungry, almost ravenous, but his hands still hover at the hem of your top.

“Yes”, you murmur, pressing open mouthed kisses to the column of his neck. “Please, Tooru - please.”

He carries you into the bedroom, undresses you with shaking hands, chanting your name with reverence, almost a prayer. His eyes darken with desperation and need, unwilling to allow himself any release until you fall apart boneless, caged in his arms.

“Stay with me”, he murmurs, after you’ve both cleaned up a second time, tugging you into bed.

It’s laughable. Five years on, Oikawa Tooru still has the power to make your mind lose all reason (however temporarily). With a single heated look, he commands your heart to break willingly in his hands. How could you not have learnt your lesson? The conversation between him and Iwaizumi merely confirms what you’ve known all this while.

(The sky his heart seeks is a world away from the earth yours is buried in)

Even now, you can see the glimmer of golden wax feathers budding along his spine, gleaming under the pale moonlight.

You lie under the covers until his breath evens out, then you stumble out of bed. You force your heart to relinquish the keys to its freedom, handing it back to logic and rationality, pulling on your clothing, folding your borrowed clothing aside.

Tooru mumbles your name, his hand outstretched towards you. “Come back”, he says in his sleep, fragility tinting the edges of his words.

Your fingers miss the doorknob by an inch. You dash your foolish hopes against the darkness of the room, put on your resolve like armour, leave your spare key on the kitchen counter.

Without looking back, you slip out into the night.

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liquid-luck-00 · 3 years

Text

The Adventures of Miss Mischief 1

Chapter 1

@maribatmarch-2k21 Day 23: Enemies to lovers

Ao3 *** Here *** Part 2

Obviously this turned out way to long, and it kindof went in its own direction so here is part one of i have no idea how many.

~~~~~~~~~~

Marinette Todd was never one to back down from anything. When her parents died leaving both her and her big brother orphans she didn’t cry. In fact, she became tough and nails. She could use her size and innocent features and be able to pickpocket and manipulate situations on her favor. But that was all turned in its head the night her big brother didn’t cone back. She knew it was dangerous and beyond reckless to go out and look for him, but she did. She went out and looked, for him anyways.

As she was running across the rooftops when she was hit and grabbed. She looked around quickly before her eyes landed on Joker.

“Shit!” Was a breathed trough her teeth.

The maniac clown walked towards her laughing.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” He laughed as he spoke. “What’s your name girly?” The henchman holding her tightened his hold on her neck effectively choking her when she didn’t answer. Mari knew she had to do something, she let fear wash over her features tapping the arm of the thug. “Let her go.”

She fell limply to the ground gasping for breath. “Not on your life.” She knocked the legs out from under the bench man and ran. She jumped off of the roof, the moment she landed she heard the crack and knew she broke her leg, but she didn’t stop. She wasn’t about to stop so she ran, turned corners, jumped over what she could, but did not stop.she would have continued to run had someone not pulled her out of oncoming traffic and in turn her flight state.

“Hey are you okay? Can you hear me? Can you understand what I’m saying?” She finally nodded at the last question. “My name is Jim Gordon what’s your’s.” She stayed quiet. “Can you speak?” She nodded. “Do you have a name?” She stayed quiet. “Do you have someone to call?” Quiet. “Are you a street kid?” Quiet again. He pulled out a phone and spoke. “Commissioner Gordon here, I have a street kid needing medical attention, broken leg.” He hung up after giving their location. “We are going to help you okay.”

Marinette stayed quiet. When officers came, she kept quiet about herself. She only told them about her injuries but stayed quiet on the rest. If Jay was still out there, I don’t want him caught by child services.

She would have gone into child services had a couple not asked what was going to happen to her. She had noticed the couple often in the hospital but never reached out.

They ended up adopting her, unfortunately they were from Paris meaning she would have to leave the place she called home. On the flight over she would have cried leaving Gotham, but that only would have brought up questions about her past, so she fell asleep.

- - -

Five years she had been living in Paris, the city of lights, and she still missed Gotham. It’s shadows and perpetual darkness was her home. It was surprising when her class was interrupted by a villain but growing up in Gotham prepared her for that. What it didn’t prepare her for was the magical mini god named Plagg who was supposed to give her powers.

“So, can you explain this to me more.”

“Sure kid. Your powers are cataclysm, you destroy whatever you touch, but you have five minutes afterwards before you transform back. Your weapons are one ore two batons, that are extendable, but weapons depend on how comparable you are me.”

“Okay so what about that partner you mentioned?”

“They will most likely have the ladybug miraculous.”

“What does that miraculous do, as in powers wise?”

“They have lucky charm and cure, but…”

“But what Plagg?” She questioned needing to know what she was going into.

“Since this seems to be the butterfly, they also need to cleanse the butterfly.”

“Okay I think I’ve got all I need to know for now, you?”

“Hungry.”

“What do you like?”

“Cheese!”

“How do cheese danishes sound?”

“Acceptable.”

She let Plagg eat comfortably before transforming and heading out. Her partner was unbearable the moment she met him, then again that wasn’t too hard to accomplish seeing as he captured the two of them in his yo-yo string. Then during the battle, he used his lucky charm but didn’t know what to do with it. In the end she ended up taking it and defeating the akuma.

“We make a pretty good team together don’t you think?” He leaned towards her.

“Catch the butterfly.”

“What?”

“Catch the butterfly, Mister Bug!”

“Okay,” he sounded defeated and he did as he was told. Releasing a now white butterfly.

“Now cast your cure.”

“My what?”

“Did your kwamii not explain anything to you?” A sheepish smile spread across his features. “You have to be kidding me. Cast your cure by tossing your Lucky Charm but do it quick you don’t have much time left before you transform back, I’ll talk with the victim.”

“Who are you two? Are you new heroes? What are your names?” The new girl who sat next her earlier appeared spewing questions. As a swarm of ladybugs covered the scene.

“I’m Mister Bug, see you around partner.” He winked at her as he swung away.

“I’m Miss Mischief. Now if you’ll excuse me, I want to check up on the victim.” She moved past the reporter and towards Ivan, she gave him a small pep talk and with his confidence up she left.

It took her almost a month to pluck up the courage to approach Nightrunner to train her.

“Excuse moi, Monsieur Nightrunner.” She had approached one night while they were both patrolling.

“You are one of the new heroes, Mischief, right?”

“Oui. Um I was wondering, wold you be willing to train me?”

“Merde how did you become a hero then?”

“Magic jewelry appeared in my room.”

“Do you know how it appeared?”

“Apparently there is a guardian, but I don’t know who they are.”

“Do you know who your partner is?” She shook her head in response. “Merde! Okay why don’t you run patrol with me, and we’ll figure something out from there.” She nodded and the two left to finish the patrol.

- - -

To say she was surprised that she still remembered some of the things and moves she learned from living off the streets of Gotham was a huge help.

But that Bug still annoyed her to no end, they had talked the night after the first akuma, and apparently the reason why he didn’t know anything was because he was so exited to be a hero that he didn’t let his kwamii explain anything. She gave him an earful after that. Unfortunately, the red annoyance got it in his head that the two of them were soulmates.

It came to a head when during the akuma Mr. Pigeon. Bug simply summoned a lucky charm handed it to her and walked out. Sure, she defeated the akuma without using her power, and sure the bug caught the akuma and purified it, but she was so done with this. She walked out holding the luIcky charm guiding Mr. Ramier out when he approached.

“Nice work Kitty Cat.” As usual reporters surrounded them, he held out his fist for a fist bump.

She simply crossed her arms, “Thanks for the help, Bug.” Sarcasm dripped from her words like venom.

“What’s with the cold shoulder all of a sudden?” He responded.

“You left me alone to fight the Akuma on my own. Do you really expect me to sing your praises when you sat out here and did nothing?”

“But…” he thought for a moment before arriving at this sentence. “We are soulmates though don’t you trust me?”

“Yes, I trust you bug, you are my partner, but that does not answer my question. The part that we are soulmates is irrelevant and incorrect. Just because our miraculous are two halves of a whole does not mean that I have to have romantic feelings towards you. I’ll see you later for patrol” she vaulted away leaving him to stew.

Luckily, they split for patrol and she shadowed Nightrunner, and after they trained outside of the city. Which helped calm her down a bit.

~~~~~~~~~~

Permanent Taglist: @itsmeevie01 @adrestar @miraculouspenta @vixen-uchiha @animegirlweeb @jumpingjoy82 @thedragonbug @astoriaandroses @icerosecrystal @t1dwarrior-of-earth @moon5606 @zalladane

#maribat #dc x miraculous #dc x mlb #mlb x dc #miraculous x dc #ml marinette #marinette todd #sibling jasonette #cat!marinette #nightrunner #maribatmarch2021 #miss mischief #miss mischief au

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sidespart · 3 years

Text

The Fall of King Romulus

Summary: Twin Princes Remus and Romulus are cursed at birth with Honesty and Obedience. When Romulus, who cannot disobey any order, is told to kill his brother the next time he lays eyes on him, he changes his name to Roman and runs away. Roman joins up with a misfit group of adventures and plans to never return to his homeland. But the fae have other plans for him...

This was originally a fake fic but I decided to turn it into a real fic because it looked like fun, The fake fic can be read as a prologue.

Warnings (for whole fic not necessarily individual chapters): Violence, mind whammying/memory altering, curse of obedience related consent issues, references to sex, references to war related injuries/PTSD, references to child abuse/neglect (YMMV on that one but just in case), antagonstic-but-not-exactly villian!Janus, Extremly-moraly-dubious-but-not-exacty-unsympathetic-Remus

Chapter 1

Previous (prologue) Next Chapter 2

When Roman had first left home, he had no intention of making friends.

Romulus had never had them, unless you counted Remus in their younger days. Royal life was often one of seclusion and once his… particular problem… had come to light, his parents took the necessary steps to ensure he was as isolated from others as possible.

This was for his own good. Romulus could not protect himself. Romulus was a liability to the himself and the Kingdom. One slip before a supposed playmate could lead to discovery and disaster. His father explained this to him when Romulus was eleven, and had taken to following the young Marquis de Orenlla around like a love sick puppy when the family visited the palace.

“Suppose that boy notices,” his fathers voice was a hiss, his hand gripping Romulus small shoulder hard enough to bruise “suppose he realises you will do anything he asks, and he asks you for family secrets? Suppose he waits until your are older and orders you to favour his family, to give them position in court, to promote them above their deserved station- or to harm their enemies. Do you understand the risk you’re taking Romulus? Swear to me you will keep to yourself. Please.”

Phrasing, Romulus had come to learn, was extraordinarily important when dealing with his curse. The final ‘please’ from his father had turned the order into a request – something Romulus could technically choose to ignore. But the grip on his shoulder suggested it would not remain his choice for long. So he nodded at his father and swore to keep away and was rewarded with a smile and a hand stroking gently though his hair, before he was dismissed to go and study before his afternoon lessons.

He should have been lonely. But he had his parents and his instructors and his servants. And the occasional, highly orchestrated, public appearance wherein he would adopt a practiced air of aloof politeness, wave and make measured conversation with those who would never dare to give him an order. It could have been worse.

Still, he understood that once he left it would be necessary to speak to many more people then he had up to now. He would need food and shelter and work and direction, none of which he had had to procure for himself before.

So he prepared himself to make conversation with strangers, perhaps acquire acquaintances. He expected to find admirers once he was far South enough that he could perform with his lute without fear of recognition from the crowd. He hoped, perhaps, for some romances, some temporary but dashing companions to join him on adventures. He had read about such things during hours spent locked up in the palace library and told to entertain himself.

He had not planned on making friends. Traveling with anyone for too long, getting to know them and allowing them to learn about him – it inevitably increased the chance of them discovering his secret. Of exploiting him as his parents had warned against. It was not worth the risk.

And yet.

And yet somehow, he had acquired three.

Virgil and Patton and Logan.

Brave and kind and wise.

Not a drop of aristocratic blood between them but without doubt the most noble companions a man could wish for. When he thought of them, of how they had accepted him into their little band of misfit adventurers, his heart felt more full, his mind more alive and sharp than it had been in years. His blood buzzed with creativity and songs of friendship, love and loyalty sprang from his lips almost unbidden.

Not right now however.

Right now sort of wanted to kill them. Specifically Virgil.

Roman scowled at the surrounding trees “If there are any depressingly dressed half elves out there who want to APPOLOGISE for being JERKS the floor is open!” he called.

The trees remained silent. They had done that the last three times he tried.

Roman left out a dramatic exhale and flopped back on the ground.

The thing was. He knew, intellectually, that this wasn’t Virgil’s fault. Not Intentionally.

Virgil was prickly. And unpredictable. Last night, Roman had wailed in dismay at the sorry state for a fire the young man was building. Virgil had responded that they would be lucky if there was no fire at all, since that would mean no one would have to be subjected to Romans cooking. Roman had insulted Virgil’s hair. Virgil had made a creative suggestion for where Roman could stick the firewood he was holding. And back and forth the insults went until between them they had built up the fire and set the stew boiling upon it.

It was banter. Virgil had been giggling the whole time, Patton hadn’t interjected once to tell them to be nicer.

And then this evening they’d gone hunting for firewood together. And Roman had made some sly remark, hoping that Virgil’s fire building skills had improved somewhat overnight.

And Virgil had turned round and snarled at him to “shut UP Princy. I don’t need you to help me – just, just get lost.”

Virgil didn’t know about the curse.

Romans mouth had dropped open in surprise. And before he’s had time to close it, his feet had spun round one hundred and eighty degrees and marched him away from his friend, away from the path, deeper into the heart of the forest.

His feat had carried him on a winding route, over one shallow stream and through an extremely dense thicket of brambles that left Roman desperately hacking away at the thorns in front of him before they could shred him to ribbons. He had eventually stopped after an hour of relentless marching and sprawled at the foot of an impressively knotted oak tree.

Unsurprisingly, his surroundings were totally unfamiliar. The trees grew so thick here it was impossible to see more than twelve feet in any direction. He was well and truly lost.

Roman had spent an unsatisfying few minutes ranting to the trees about elves and their unpredictable mood swings and marching and blisters and curses and Virgil’s still subpar fire lighting skills until eventually he had run out of steam and settled himself down for a good sulk.

Phrasing was important. Virgil had told him to get lost but he hadn’t said to stay lost. And now that he was lost, there was nothing to prevent him being found again.

Patton was an excellent tracker. The idea of sitting around waiting to be rescued stung Roman’s pride, but his feat had already been aching from the days travel before his unintended march. His stomach growled, the smattering of cuts from the brambles burned, and evening was already turning to night. The most sensible thing to do was for Roman to stay where he was and wait to be found.

Assuming they wanted to find him.

Roman bit his lip sharply to try and banish that line of thought. They wouldn’t leave him.

Although, he drew his legs up and wrapped his arms around his knees to fend off the evening chill, There was a strong chance they wouldn’t find him tonight. Patton had looked exhausted when Virgil and Roman and left on their hunt for firewood, in fact he’d been falling behind all day and –

Oh.

Patton and Virgil were born in Krutova and Finaley’ed respectively. Two small neighbouring kingdoms, politically insignificant and famous only for their densely forested landscapes and their intense dedication to wiping each other off the face of the Earth. For the past eighteen years bloody war had raged between the two. Roman had never asked directly, but he was fairly certain that this conflict was where Patton had acquired his enormous broadsword, his limp and, quite possibly, Virgil.

Neither of them liked forests. They carried extra tension as soon as they stood under the shadows of the trees. In addition to that, the uneven terrain aggravated Patton’s hip, sometimes leaving him hissing between his teeth with every step.

Roman had been walking up front with Logan all day, arguing the merits of modern Raspanzean poetry compared with the old masters. He had thought they had called a halt to the day a little early, but was tired enough himself not to question it. And really, since he and Virgil had been on fire and cooking duty last night it should have fallen to the others today…but Virgil had scampered into the woods as soon as Patton was settled on his bed roll, and Roman had gone chasing after.

Virgil fretted. He fretted after all of them, but Patton most of all. And Roman had chased after him when he was already stressed about his best friend and then started needling him about his fire making skills.

Roman groaned and pressed his face into his knees.

Maybe he was the jerk.

“It sounds like it.”

Roman sighed, hating the whine in his voice as he replied “but he still shouldn’t have taken it out on –“

Romans head snapped up so fast he hit his skull hard against the oak tree behind him. Wincing he twisted his head left and right, but the area remained deserted.

He frowned. Perhaps he was more exhausted than he thought –

“You certainly are over tired little Prince,” Roman made a sound which he refused to think of as a shriek and scrambled to his feet.

Standing not three feet- two feet – five feet- three feet from him, stood – hovered - sat – stood a figure in – black – yellow- black – shadow – gold - black. He- she – it – he? Laughed sweetly and stepped – slunk – prowled – flew – stepped closer

And drew back abruptly as Roman held up his dagger between them.

Roman’s sword was the best he could buy, made of blended steel with a bronze handle. He cleaned and sharpened it religiously and practiced often. It was beautifully made and perfectly balanced, suitable for a solider but ideal for a traveller in who knew how to use it.

Romans dagger was old and brittle. And more than once Logan had tried to surreptitiously throw it out and convince him to replace it with something usable.

But it was made of pure iron and it kept the scowling fae at bay.

Looking directly at the fae made something in Romans stomach twist. But he kept his eyes at a squint and held the dagger firm between them, even as his arms shook from the effort.

“What do you want from me?” he gritted out

“What do I want?” The fae’s face would not quite settle, the edges shifting and billowing, but when he smiled Roman was certain he saw fangs “You’re the one trespassing in my home, little Prince, I should be asking you”

Suddenly the fae was as close as he could come, his face less than an inch from the daggers edge. Up close, Roman could see two eyes clearly, one black and one pulsating with a sickly yellow light. “Come to make a deal with the devil, Princey?”

Roman squeezed his eyes shut and held himself firm, even as the shaking began to spread over his entire body.

“I am. A. Lost. Traveller.” He gasped out “I. mean. No. disrespect. To you. Or. Your court” for what felt like an eternity the shaking continued, rattling his brain and sending one knee crashing to the floor. And then it stopped.

Hesitantly, Roman cracked one eye open and looked up. The fae had, mercifully, settled its form. It had picked a face identical to Romans own, save for the yellow eye and scales that spread over its left side. A cloak of shadows hid most of its body from view, but when it moved towards Roman now it seemed to slither rather than step.

“You mean no disrespect” it nodded towards the dagger still clutched in Roman’s sweaty hands “but your bring a weapon to my home?”

“it is a shield, my lord, not a sword, despite it’s shape”

The fae harrumphed, a disconcertingly human noise, and circled Roman once. “You’re not from around here.”

“I’m lost, my lord.”

“I know that” The fae stopped in front of Roman again and rolled it’s eyes. “I meant you are not one of the town folk who trespass in my wood so regularly. You know how to speak to me.”

Roman opened his mouth to say ‘in my fathers Kingdom the Fae are welcomed, and representatives of the Saelie court attend each ball and function’ but managed to snap it closed before he made a sound. Rule one for dealing with the Fae, even those considered allies, was not to give them any information that they didn’t already know. “You flatter me my lord” he said instead.

Roman still hadn’t moved from his half kneeling pose and now the fae coiled down so that they were once again face to face. “Most humans in your position” he said, “would have already started begging for a deal to relive them of their…little problems. What’s the matter Princey, curse got your tongue?”

Roman couldn’t help the way his heart rate sped up at the faes words. But he did his best to keep his outward face calm. It was true, the first deliberate order he had received when his curse was discovered was to never talk about it, he couldn’t have brought it up to this fae if he wanted to.

But more than that – the fae who allied themselves with his father’s court had done everything in their power to remove the curses from him and his brother. Nothing had worked. “A gift once given can only be taken back by the gifter” an elder sprite in the guise of a kindly woman had told his mother. “And their gifter is unlikely to return here.”

The gifter was also unlikely to be a snake shaped creature tied to a southern forest. “I want nothing from you my lord, except to be allowed to leave your home” Roman intoned honestly. He had wondered, for a moment, when the creature had called him Princey – but Virgil and the others often called him by that nickname. If this was a lord of the forest he could have heard them when they passed by.

The fae stared at him for a long moment. And smiled. “Liar.”

Roman frowned – “what-“

“Roman!”

Roman jerked his head to the side, the shout had come from close by, he was sure. “Pa-Padre?”

A whisper in his ear: “time to go home Roman.” Roman quickly looked back to the fae, but it was gone. On the ground where it had been, lay a single oak leaf dyed a brilliant, autumnal, yellow.

He didn’t need to look up at the oak trees leaves to know they, like every other tree in the forest, were still a vibrant green.

“Roman! Roman are you here?”

Without much conscious thought, he reached forward and snatched up the yellow leaf, burying it deep in his pocket.

“I’M HERE. Patton? Virgil? I’M OVER HERE”

Within minuets all seven foot of Patton was crashing through the tree line and baring down on him, Virgil not far behind.

“Roman, oh my goodness we were so worried! Are you hurt? Can you stand? Why do you have your dagger – did something happen?”

“Princy! Shit are you – are you okay? I am so, - I’m really- We looked EVERYWHERE“

“I’m fine.” Roman promised ‘Its fine’ he added to Virgil, “I just – I figured you needed some space so I tried looking for wood on the other side of camp. Guess I got a little turned around” He allowed Patton to pull him to his feet, giving them both his best sheepish grin. Embarrassed but ready to laugh at himself. He really had got lost. Silly Roman.

It’s not like he could tell them about the curse.

“We’re not the far from camp” Patton told him, he glanced around frowning slightly “I’m sure we searched through here before.”

“I was trying to make my own way back,” Roman lied easily “I probably ended up walking in a circle and missed you.”

It’s not like there was any point telling them about the fae.

“You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine Pat, what about you? How’s your leg?”

“Oh this old thing?” Patton gave them a wide smile “it’s just fine, Ro, don’t you worry. Now I think I know a short cut back, you two follow close to me alright?” and with that the large man spun round and headed into the trees.

Virgil and Roman shared an exasperated glance. The man was clearly in agony.

“Listen, Princy I-“

“I’m sorry too.” Roman cut him off. Bumped his shoulder against Virgil’s and winked. “Now lets get back to camp before Logan paces a trench in to the ground hm?”

Slowly Virgil nodded, although he was still staring at Roman guiltily. The two of them headed into the trees together, collected Patton from where he was half collapsed against an elm, and the three slowly made their way back to camp.

By the time they were explaining what had happened to Logan, the memory of the fae had faded like mist.

With a days more travel they would be out of the forest and on a path to Steveange. The largest and greatest city of the Central Kingdoms. From there they would have to chose whether to head east, towards the coast line, west to catch the merchant festivals or north, where Roman had always refused to travel.

Stuck between two pages of Romans notebook, a unseasonably yellowed oak leaf shivered.

Time to go home.

#sanders sides fic #roman sanders #janus sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #remus sanders #but not in this chapter #creativitwins #sidespart writes #TS: Fall of Romulus

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inlovewiththefictionalcharacters · 3 years

Text

SECOND CHANCE

CHAPTER - 1 : GARDNER

Pairing: (Dark) Andy Barber x Reader.

Warning(s): Non-Con; Dub-con; Slow-burn(Maybe); Possible Defending Jacob spoilers; Possessiveness; Grief; Angst; Any other possible warnings will be added in the future chapters.

Summary: Follow Andy’s journey after the horrible accident that turned his whole world upside down.

*****

Series Masterlist

*****

Never in his life did Andy thought he’ll go through what he did. His whole family and himself going through Jacob’s trial is one thing, but Laurie intentionally trying to take their son’s life by crashing the car to the side of the tunnel is another. He can’t even imagine why on earth did she even think that her son is capable of murdering someone. Sure, Jacob did do a lot of weird stuff that are not normally done by other teenagers. But he believed his son was innocent. And while his son was in coma, attached to IV’s, the woman who put his life in danger came out sustaining minimal injuries.

The events following that are even more ridiculous. No matter what Andy did, she always doubted him. He thought that he deserved it. After all, he did hid about his father from her and would have probably never told her about it if it wasn’t for Jacob’s trial. Andy was fine with her maintaining some distance from him after every thing that happened. After all, the distance was there between them and kept increasing during the trial. And then there was a lot of secrecy that confused him. They never maintained any secrets between them, well apart from Andy not telling her about his father. That really confused him. But what he couldn’t stand was the unbelievable hatred she’s got for Jacob and it kept growing each day. First, it was just her avoiding to look at any of Jacob’s pictures or things. He chalked it up to her feeling guilty about the accident. But then there was her literally just removing all the things that had any connection to Jacob and piling it up to one a corner in the room that those things were in. He didn’t understand why she did that. Not until one day he couldn’t find those things in those rooms anywhere and found them in trash, just as he found the baby pictures of Jacob in the trash can right before the car crash happened. And when he brought those things back inside their home and confronted Laurie about it, she just screamed at him, kept yelling at him that she didn’t want to see them anymore. It was during that time when she literally told him that she hates Jacob. Her own son. That she regrets giving birth to him and should have gotten rid of him like her friends told her to when Jacob was conceived.

He can’t even fathom how a mother could hate her own son. And then she went on blaming Andy for everything that happened in their life. He tried taking her to therapy and even went to couples therapy with her, hoping to reduce the distance between them, but soon realized that nothing can fix things between them. Andy soon found out that one of the main reasons for the growing reasons between him and Laurie was the affair that Laurie’s been having with some dude that kept visiting Newton frequently. He definitely didn’t peg Laurie for the cheating type, but oh well.

But the final nail in the coffin was when Laurie tried to kill Jacob, again. He was visiting Jacob that day and Laurie insisted that she’ll tag along with him. Andy wasn’t up for it, but Laurie was persistent. Andy caved in and took her with him to the hospital. While Andy actually spent some time with Jacob in the unit, Laurie just stood outside the room, not even bothering to come. Then Andy went to talk to the doctor in-charge of Jacob’s treatment to check on the progress of Jacob’s health. When he returned, the sight in front of him chilled him to his bones. Jacob has his eyes closed and was struggling to breathe, his chest was moving frantically while Laurie just stared at him holding the oxygen mask he was wearing earlier, away from him.

“What are you doing?!” Andy growled at her, storming inside towards her while Laurie jumped and looked at him with wide eyes.

Hearing him, a nurse and doctor rushed in and helped Jacob breathe again and checked his vitals while Andy grabbed Laurie’s arm and dragged her away from his son. That was the final nail in the coffin. With some help from his previous employer, since he was still in her good books, Andy drew out a restraining order against Laurie for Jacob and also signed the divorce papers, also stating that he wanted to get full custody of Jacob. He had stayed in Newton till the divorce was finalized and also got full custody of Jacob since Laurie wanted to do nothing to do with the kid which made it easier. The house was sold too and he didn’t bother packing anything that Laurie had any input on. He just packed all of his stuff and Jacob’s sold some stuff and then gave some to charity and then moved to a place where all the ruckus and the media circus was far less. He wanted to live in peace and hopefully, Jacob will heal in time. He hoped that Jacob will be all good and healed in no time but the progress on his part is way less.

*****

It was another day spent working in the little bakery that Y/N owned. Y/N was truly lucky to find Gardner of all places to settle down for now. And she was even more lucky to find this gem of a bakery that was on sale. She literally placed almost all of her savings on it and didn’t regret it one bit about it in the past 3 years. The sales were good and the staff of 4 that worked in shifts were also good and understanding, never making a mess about things. They were like her second family and were there for her when things got a bit overwhelming. She hated dumping her stuff on them but they lived in a community and most were practically a few streets down from where she lived.

It was a few minutes past 3 in the afternoon and Y/N looked at her watch and cussed.

“Damn, I’m getting late today...” she muttered and looked up at the older woman who was one of the staff.

“Agatha, could you mind taking over for today? Charlotte is closing today and I have to go... I made a promise...” Y/N started and the older woman just her off.

“Just go on child. Don’t worry. Char and I will look over the place. You stay safe on your way” she told her.

Y/N smiled gratefully at her, grabbed her purse and dashed outside.

By the time she reached home, she sighed in relief and jogged towards the threshold, unlocked the door and walked inside, closing the door behind her. Walking into the living room, a smile broke on her face at the sight in front of her.

“MAMA!” a voice yelled enthusiastically upon her entering the living room.

Y/N crouched down as the toddler ran towards her as quickly as her little feet can take her and she wrapped her arms arounds Y/N’s neck.

“Hi baby!” Y/N cooed as she pressed kisses on the hair and forehead of the little toddler.

“Hi mama! I vuv you!” the little being said.

Y/N’s gaze then landed on Elie who was babysitting her little girl and smiled at her which was returned. The teenager has also been a savior babysitting the little girl whenever Y/N asked her too.

Y/N then looked at Ada, her little girl and told her “Baby, why don’t you go and get your things while mommy speaks to Elie?”

Ada nodded her head and quickly dashed towards the huge box of toys that she has. Y/N then looked at Elie and sighed.

“God, Elie. You are literally my savior, have I ever told you that?” she asked.

Elie grinned and replied “I think you might have mentioned it a time or two, but meh. Ada is the sweetest, and the most easiest to deal with. And I love hanging out with her.”

Y/N smiled gratefully. She still couldn’t understand how she got this much lucky with everything. She then pulled out thirty dollars out of her purse and handed them to Elie, who took them and bid goodbye for the day. Just then Ada ran towards her, with a few of her stuffies.

“Mama! Tea pawty!” Ada yelled enthusiastically.

Y/N chuckled and grabbed a blanket along with a few of Ada’s stuff for the tea party with her stuffies and the two of them walked outside towards the tiny lawn they had. After setting all the things down, she sat down with Ada and was busy playing with her when the movement of a truck got her attention which was following a sleek black Audi that stopped in front of the house beside theirs. It used to be empty, but Y/N heard from Mrs. Williams that the previous owners have finally sold it to someone, but Mrs. Williams didn’t know any details about the new owner.

Y/N saw the the truck stop behind the car and the packers and movers immediately opened the back of the truck, carefully moving all the stuff out and to the inside of the house while a guy got out of the car and lead them inside. From what she could see, he’s tall and got dark hair. While Y/N was looking at all the movement that was happening, little Ada’s gaze was transfixed at the sleek black Audi. The little girl, according to Y/N has an unhealthy obsession with cars, way more obsession that what a normal toddler has.

“Look, mama! Carrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!” Ada said, prolonging the R, making Y/N look at her and giggle.

She could literally see Ada’s eyes glowing while staring at the car and Y/N shook her head in amusement. Unbeknownst to them, the owner of the said car suddenly turned his attention towards his new neighbors and caught the cute little girl’s gaze on his car and a small smile grazed his lips.

#andy barber #defending jacob #jacob barber #laurie barber #dark andy barber #dark andy barber x reader #dark! andy barber #dark! andy barber x reader #dark andy barber x oc #dark! andy barber x oc #dark!andy barber #dark!andy barber x reader #dark!andy barber x oc #second chance #darkfic #chapter 1 #Gardner

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goodgirlofglory · 3 years

Text

Three times Steve defended you, and one time you defended him / One-shot

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader

Word count: 5,5k

Warnings: 18+ content, Explicit sexual content, Explicit language, light descriptions of smut, light descriptions of injuries, light descriptions of violence, some description of blood, kind of slow burn but not really at all.

Summary: Three times during your initiation into the Avengers agents program where Steve came to your aid and defended you, and one time you defended Steve. Along the way you find each other.

Author’s note: This one has been a personal pleasure to write. I love thinking of Steve and Y/N as having a hank for banter with each other, at the same time as they appreciate and admire each other. I’m just a real sucker for respect, y’all<3 (Not been proofread by anyone but me, so all mistakes are mine)

Part 1

Fire was raining down around you, the blood pumping in your ears as fear and adrenaline coursed through your body.

You had told them it was far too early to bring you on a mission, but Steve had insisted after you’d done so well in training, quickly climbing the ranks despite being just a recruit.

Besides, this should have only been an intelligence gathering mission, in stealth, during a time of which no goons were supposed to be on the drug cartel base.

Clearly not, you thought as you crouched behind a pillar, bullets chipping away at the stone.

You could hear the fighting around you, but panic clouded your mind in a hazy fog so you couldn’t pinpoint where, your body stiff as you curled in on yourself.

This was all wrong. You were going to die on this hellish mission, and more horrifyingly, disappoint Steve, who’d put his trust in you.

Actual tears blurred your sight as you clutched the gun in your hand.

“There’s one left, he’s coming towards you, Y/N,” you heard Steve call through your earpiece

Then, through your tears you saw a figure peer around the corner, gun in hand.

You knew you needed to shoot him, but your body didn’t obey you.

You heard your name shouted as the goon pointed his gun toward you and the ear thrumming sound of the gunshot jolted your body. Your eyes shut tightly as you saw your life flash before you.

But the pain you expected didn’t come, and instead you heard the distinct zing of Captain America’s shield flying through the air. A few grunts followed before you tentatively opened your eyes.

The goon lay sprawled on the floor, lifeless, and before you Steve was kneeling, dressed in the stealth suit that made his baby blue eyes pop. He was looking at you with worried eyes.

“Y/N, are you alright?” he asked, breathing hard.

You nodded, about to answer when you noticed the bullet hole in his suit. Your hands shot out in panic, forcefully groping at his abdomen, going to apply pressure.

Oh no, oh no, oh no, not that

“Oh my god, Captain, no, no, no,” you rambled, thoughts racing, eyes wide.

He gently took your hands in his and caught your wild eyes with his, gentle and calm.

“Don’t worry. Bulletproof, remember,” he said, nodding calmly, and you nodded furiously, your mind trying to calm itself through your panic.

He smiled fondly at you, and you noticed how everything was silent around you, the fighting finally over. Then it hit you.

“Steve, you took the bullet for me!? You shouldn’t, you idiot! I-I’m just a recruit, I..” you rushed out, guilt screaming inside your head. If Captain America died on some pointless mission protecting you, some no-name recruit, you would never forgive yourself.

He was chuckling now, your hands still in his.

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay. I think I know what I’m doing, I’ve been doing this for a while, ya’know,” he said, not sharing any of your worry, but looking profusely amused by it.

“Plus, I was the one who pressed you into this mission. I am responsible for you,” he added seriously, and your stomach flipped at the words. You tried to swallow the fluttering of butterflies.

He was your mentor and your trainer, nothing more, but his words still lingered on your mind for days.

Part 2

The earth-shattering explosion ripped you from your dreams of baby blue eyes, and a split second later, the floor gave out under you.

It took a moment to remember who the hell and where the hell you were.

It was in the middle of the night, and you’d been sleeping peacefully in the recruits lodging area of the compound, in the room you shared with four other girls.

You fell down, the floor crumbling and falling with you. The bed hit the floor beneath your level with a thud that had your head whipping backwards painfully. You had fallen down into the recruit sparring gym, empty at night.

The wooden bed split in half with a loud shriek, and you slumped down the crack, only cushioned by the mattress, your cover having been blown away by the force of the explosion.

Another searing jolt of pain shot through you as a heavy piece of concrete landed on your leg, and you screamed in pain. Above you, you heard your roommates shout your name, but the rumbling of the building verging on collapse was overwhelming and deafening.

“GET AWAY! GET OUT!” you shouted up at your friends, tears in your eyes now.

They disappeared and you tried with bloody hands to move the boulder. It wouldn’t bunch even a bit. Around you the whole building shook and rumbled. You could feel that it wasn’t long until it would crumble.

You realized you were stuck, bleeding and about to be crushed by a thousand tons of concrete.

“Y/N!” you heard a familiar voice from above shout.

Looking up at the hole in the ceiling above, you saw Steve standing, his shield on his arm.

You weakly protested as he jumped down, landing on the bed beside you, carefully avoiding the boulder pinning your ankle.

You could feel your mind blurring over in pain and shock, barely registering as Steve knelt down close, a warm and steady hand on your shoulder.

“Stay with me, Y/N, I’m gonna get you out of here,” he assured you hurriedly, his voice the most worried you’d ever heard him.

“Steve,” you sobbed, trying to reach out to him. He grabbed your hand in his, and in a move that was so surprising it snapped you back to consciousness, he kissed it. It was quick, barely there and kinda panicked, but you were sure he did it.

The deafening rumble of the building dying snapped you back to urgency.

“I’m sorry, this is gonna hurt,” he said as he released your hand and reached down to the boulder squeezing your leg. He heaved it off, and a scream ripped itself from your lungs.

He was quickly on you again, dragging you by the arm from where you lay squeezed between the two pieces of your cracked bed.

You wrapped your arm around his broad shoulder, noticing for the first time that he was shirtless, only wearing a pair of grey joggers and his shield, barefoot. He wrapped a strong arm around your waist, his body a soothing, warm presence against yours.

“Hold on,” he shouted as the ceiling cracked open, and then he was jumping through the window to your right, glass shattering around you.

You hurled through the chill, night air, Steve landing gracefully on his feet on the ground, one story below where you’d jumped out. Your feet dangling in the air, he held you close to his body as he ran across the lawn, and you heard the building crashing down behind you, the noise getting alarmingly close.

He threw a look back before stopping to a halt. Disposing you on the ground, you landed on your ass, looking up at his standing form. Behind him you saw a dust cloud charge at you. He kneeled down, holding his shield above his head as he curled you in against him with an arm around your shoulders.

He was shielding you with his naked upper body as the cloud enveloped you, and deep in your chest, through the shock and fear, astonishment and a whole lot of admiration bloomed.

You curled into his embrace, putting both hands up to support the shield as stray rocks and debris hit it.

You stayed like that for a while as the building settled in a collapsed ruin behind you, the dust cloud slowly dissolving. Your faces were so close, panting at each other, chests heaving. You remembered suddenly, you were only wearing a tiny tank top and panties, and despite the situation literally being a life or death matter, you blushed.

Steve put down his shield, throwing it on the ground as his arm released its grip around your shoulder.

You locked eyes with him, and in that moment he was everything. Tears of gratitude spilled forward as his hands held your shoulders, your own hands spread out on his naked chest, feeling his heart hammer against his ribcage.

“You saved me,” you whispered, “thank you. I don’t know how to thank you, Steve, you saved my life, ” you continued, whimpering.

“Are you alright? We need to get that leg looked at immediately,” he said, averting his eyes slightly, the tips of his ears pink. But that’s probably due to the exploding building, you reminded yourself.

As soon as he said it, the pain in your leg shot to the front of your brain, and you looked down to find a long, bleeding gash along the front of your ankle. You tried to move it and a startled, pained cry left your mouth.

Steve flinched at the sound, before quickly scooping you up, one arm under your knees and the other under your shoulder. You moaned in pain as he got to his feet.

“Your shield,” you said weakly as he started walking towards the compound again.

“It’s not important,” he said without a beat, catching your eyes in an intense look that had your heart fluttering.

You later found out Bruce Banner’s Hulk had caught him off guard as he’d worked in the lab two stories under the gym, which had led to the entire wing of recruit lodgings collapsing. There had been no casualties, though, miraculously - you and Steve being the closest.

Again he had saved your life, ridiculously risking his own in the process. You had thanked him over and over as they wheeled you into surgery, grabbing his hand and kissing it like he had yours, hoping he understood how grateful you were.

Your friends giggled as they huddled around your hospital bed. It was your eighth day in the med bay.

“You know he came straight to our room, right?” Helena said, giving you a giddy smirk.

“Oh come on, he was certainly checking on everybody,” you dismissed.

“No no, Dean said he saw him sprinting up the hall, barely even telling people to get out before he reached our room,” Sandy corrected, and the girls giggled again.

You were blushing profusely, trying so hard to fight the thought that Captain America, Steve Rogers had come specifically to check on you once there was danger. You were kind of a special protegé, as you’d earned the privilege of sparring with him one on one, but he had been nothing but professional towards you. Suffice to say, you didn’t feel like that justified him coming for you and only you in times of danger.

“Yeah, and I saw how he threw himself down that hole to you. Like nothing else mattered,” Cindy added dramatically.

“You guys, stop it, now you’re just hyping the story up to something it wasn’t,” you tried, but you were giggling with them. “Our room was at the end of the hall, closest to the lab. He probably just figured that was the part that would collapse first,” you added, forcing yourself to believe it.

“Oh well, I don’t know, he’s been here every day since you were admitted, right?” Sandy pushed, and now you were the one giggling, glancing at the flowers in the corner that he’d brought you the day before.

“Yes,” you admitted, “so you better scatter, for he usually comes around this time,” you told them pointedly, swatting Helena’s ass.

They kissed you on the cheek before skipping from the room, but you heard them greet “Captain” up the hallway.

Your heart fluttered as Steve Rogers appeared around the corner, smiling fondly as he let himself in.

Part 3

The music was loud, the room cheery and filled with talk and laughter.

Your recruitment was finally over, and you were officially agents-in-training, which was cause for a huge, fucking party.

Everyone was there, including several members of the Avengers. Natasha was sipping on a beer in the corner, surrounded by a crowd listening intently to a story she was telling.

Sam was playing pool across the room, crushing every guy that tried him on.

But most importantly, Steve was there, wearing a ridiculously gorgeous blue button up, the two buttons on the top undone, making your mind raise with promiscuity. You had finally bitten the bullet and admitted your feelings. To yourself, that was, and no one else.

Your eyes met three times over the crowd before he finally came over.

“Good evening,” he greeted you cheerfully.

“Hi,” you answered, suddenly all hot and bothered.

“Great party,” he said as he took a stand next to you, looking out on the sea of happy partiers, drunk off their asses.

“Yeah, I’m surprised you’re here. Isn’t Golden Girls having a rerun tonight?” you teased.

He looked at you with playful annoyance.

“Yeah, and I suppose it’s past your bedtime, young lady,” he answered and you threw your head back in a surprised laughter, not expecting him to banter back.

He was looking at you with a fond smile when your laughter turned to a giggle. A moment passed as you looked at each other, and you felt yourself glowing under his gaze.

“Did you get my flowers?” he asked then, and you blushed at his abruptness. You’d been nervous about bringing it up.

“Yeah, and you really don’t need to keep sending those. It’s been a while since I got out from the med bay now,” you said, trying not to reveal how flustered you were.

“I know, I know. I just seem to keep getting you in trouble,” he said, looking down at the beer in his hand.

“Steve, you’re the one who’s always saving me from trouble,” you said, putting your hand on his wrist to catch his attention again, “I hope you know how grateful I am,” you added, trying to convey how genuine you were.

His eyes met yours with such emotion, your breath caught in your throat. The room suddenly felt empty, the music fading to a lull.

You swore he inclined his head slightly before you abruptly removed your hand, straightening yourself. He snapped back to himself, clearing his throat awkwardly before looking around. You did as well, relieved when you saw no eyes on you. You did miss Natasha's knowing eyes peek at the two of you from the corner of the room.

“Excuse me,” you murmured as you stepped away, flustered, your heart hammering in your chest.

You found the balcony out from the party empty, the cold autumn air cooling your suddenly flushed skin.

Was he about to kiss you?!

You stood by the railing, enjoying the fresh air when you heard someone come out on the balcony. Your heart skipped a beat.

“What do we have here?” a slurring voice shouted, and your eyes rolled into the back of your head when you realized it was Jason, a fellow recruit from your year; mediocre fighter, arrogant asshat.

“And how are you tonight, Jason?” you asked, not bothering to mask your annoyance at his presence.

“Checking out the meat, sweetcheeks,” he answered, smugness dripping from his voice.

Before you managed to turn around and give him your best death stare, a hand reached up your bare thigh, pushing the flimsy black fabric of your minidress up. You yelped and spun around, smacking his hand away.

“Oh, don’t be like that, pretty girl. I know you were checking me out earlier,” he said, pouting sarcastically as he moved to pin you against the railing.

You squirmed at his intrusion into your personal space, mild shock settling like a sting in your chest. His breath stunk of booze, the rest of him of sweat and a nauseating amount of body spray.

“Jason, back off. I don’t know what you think you saw, but I’m not interested,” you tried to tell him authoritatively, but you sounded so small. This had never happened to you before, and your head swam with thoughts about what you should do.

“Then why are you looking so sexy tonight, teasing me in this little dress,” he said with a sneer, ignoring your discomfort completely.

You were about to lash out when a hand on his shoulder had him pausing, his hands trying to pull yours away from where they were covering your chest.

“She said back off,” you heard Steve say, and the tone of his voice told you he wasn’t pleased.

Jason chuckled bitterly, turning on stumbling feet to look up at Steve, towering above him with a scowl on his face. His expression sent a cold shiver down your spine. You had never seen him this angry before.

“Why don’t you back off and let a brother get some,” Jason answered, seemingly stupidly unaware of the deathly aura emitting from Steve’s looming form.

“I’m only going to say this once: Get lost or you’re out,” Steve said, stare cold as ice, tone dead serious.

Jason seemed to get it then, and with a pathetic huff, he scurried away.

“Whatever,” you heard him mutter as he entered the party again. A few eyes from inside were on you, paying attention to the perceived standoff happening between a simple recruit and THE Captain America. Over you.

You released the breath you were holding as soon as the door slid closed behind Jason, and Steve’s expression softened to one of mild concern.

“You okay?” he asked, and you could barely look in his eyes as you collected yourself.

“Yeah. Thanks, Steve. I could have taken him though,” you tried to lie. Steve let you keep the lie.

“I don’t doubt it, but somehow it didn’t feel right that you should,” he said gravely.

“Maybe, but that’s life,” you stated.

“Well, not when I’m around,” he answered after a moment, and you lifted your eyes to his. They shone with something akin to protection, and you felt warm again under his gaze.

“You wanna get back to the party?” he asked, breaking the building tension. The air seemed so intense between you two tonight, sizzling with something new.

“No, actually, I think I wanna turn in. Kinda tired,” you excused, but really you were burning inside from a new found hunger for Steve you knew you couldn’t keep in check much longer.

He nodded, biting his lip slightly.

“Walk you back to your room? I don't like the way Jason looked at you,” he said, voice heavy with suspicion, and before you could think, you nodded.

You were sort of panicking as you trekked the empty hallways together. Everyone had seen you leave together, and you were sweating bullets as you walked in silence, Steve’s broad figure a sizzling presence to your left.

He kept the smalltalk sweet and light, and you knew you were being irrationally nervous.

Outside your new dormroom, the tension grew thick again.

You bit your lip, looking up at Steve as he bid you goodnight with a charming smile.

“Eh, Steve,” you called out as he turned to walk away.

He turned back with a quizzical look.

You stepped up to him, and he seemed acutely aware of your presence as you came close, your hands landing tentatively on his forearms as they hung at his side.

“What’re you…?” he started, but trailed off when he looked into your eyes.

You inclined your head slightly, not even knowing what you were doing anymore.

He inclined his head just the tiniest bit in response, and then you were both leaning in.

Your lips met in a gentle, tiny kiss, your eyes falling shut as the breath was stolen from your lungs.

He was actually kissing you.

Slowly, so slowly, his hands reached up to cup your face, and then we was deepening the kiss, pulling you flush against him.

A small sound escaped you as his tongue swept into your mouth, mingling eagerly with your own. He pulled his lips away suddenly, but kept your face in his hands as his eyes scanned yours.

“Is this alright?” he asked intently, but he was panting, and his eyes were blown so far there was only a small rim of light blue around the pools of black.

“Yes. God, Steve, yes,” you panted, hands coming up to clutch the shirt on either side of his torso, twisting the fabric with desperate hands. “You have no idea how much I’ve thought about this,” you added despite embarrassment burning on your face at the confession.

“Glad I’m not the only one,” he chuckled against your lips.

He was back on you in a split second, and you stumbled into your room in a fierce liplock. You suddenly remembered what a mess you’d left your room in earlier as you’d tried on everything you owned before the party. Plus, you still lived with four other girls, but they were thankfully still at the party, and judging by your knowledge of them, they probably would be for hours still.

You straddled Steve’s lap hurriedly when you’d led him to your bed, and he kissed his way down your neck as you fumbled to undo his shirt, longing for his bare skin. The last time you’d felt it, a building had fallen on your ass, so you hadn’t really taken the time to relish it, though it had been at the back of your mind ever since.

He fucked you sweetly that night, and then roughly, and then sweetly again as you took a shower, going down on you as he knelt between your legs.

You’d never felt such pleasure before, Steve plucking orgasm after orgasm from your body with deft fingers and a wicked tongue, before his honest to god thick as fuck cock fucked you raw. He sounded like a god when he groaned his release. You were sprawled out limp on the bed by the time he pulled his clothes back on with a quirk in his step, looking at his watch a bit nervously.

“Should probably get out of your hair before your girlfriends return,” he said, bending over your spent form, giving you a sweet peck on the lips. You gripped his hand as he straightened, and pulled him down again to devour his lips with your own possessively. He hummed appreciatively in response.

“What if I told you I never want you to leave?” you asked against his lips, knowing you were pushing your luck.

“Then your poor friends would never get any sleep, and neither would you, missy,” he said matter-of-factly, booping your nose with his finger as he tore himself from your grip. Your core clenched at the notion.

Then he looked at you, and you could see the wheels turning in his brain.

“What?” you asked.

He glanced at the door before he sat on the edge of the bed, a hand coming up to lovingly stroke your cheek. You hummed at the touch.

“Are you sure about this? It isn’t forbidden, so we won’t get in trouble. But I’m afraid the rumours can be pretty bad around here. It won’t exactly be easy,” he said mournfully, and you knew he expected a rejection.

You sat up and grabbed his hand in yours.

“Fuck what anybody else says. I’m sure, Steve. I adore you, and I want you by my side from this day on,” you said. The shining, relieved devotion in Steve’s eyes was all you needed to be sure of your choice. Not that there ever was a choice.

You’d go to the ends of the earth for the man.

Your phone buzzed on your nightstand, and you peeked over at it.

“Coming back now. You better get loverboy outta there ;)” the text message from Helena read. The girls were gonna have a field day with this.

“Except for now. The girls are coming back, you better go,” you said as you pecked him once on the lips before pushing him off the bed.

He huffed an amused laughter, looking back over his shoulder one last time as he slipped from the room.

Part 4

“Hey, what did you just say?” you called out at him as he sauntered away.

“Y/N, don’t, it’s not worth it,” Steve said tiredly, trying with a gentle arm to turn you away.

You swatted softly at his hand and looked in his eyes. You were fuming, and his grave expression only fueled your fury. You could see Jason’s words had gotten to him, and that made you see red.

“Steve, I won’t let him talk to you that way,” you said lowly before taking a few steps forward.

“Why don’t you repeat yourself, Jason. We all know how much you like to hear yourself talk,” you called at him. He paused. Of course he would, you knew which buttons to push.

There had gathered a crowd around you now, mostly recruits from your own year, but also some from the year below, plus an odd officer here and there. In the far distance you spotted Natasha Romanoff sipping on a coffee mug as she leaned on a pillar.

He turned around with that ugly smirk. “I’m not sure you can handle it, Y/N,” he called back.

“No, come on, I wanna hear you say it again.“

He started sauntering back, arrogant ass fuming with cockiness.

“I said; the old man goes for the recruit. That’s what happens when the only pussy he could get is a hundred years old and dead,” he repeated, puncturing every word with a tone he would use for a child, seething with his arrogance.

“I’d rather have an old man than a boy, Jason. Funny how you come down on Captain Rogers when you haven’t gotten laid one, single time since we started. How many of us are there? 3000? Well, it does make sense, I mean, look at you,” you said, hearing the crowd around you gasp and “oooh” quietly.

Oh, you were just getting started.

A flicker of self-doubt flashed behind his eyes and you revelled, adrenaline flooding your system. In truth, Jason was a pretty easy target. Just tackle his weak masculinity and give him a taste of his own medicine, and he would crumble easily.

“But that’s not why no one likes you, Jason. It’s because you act like a child. A child who hasn’t gotten his candy, and is throwing a tantrum in the grocery store for everyone to see. And it’s not that we don’t feel bad for you either, Jason. We pity you in fact, as we witness you embarrassing yourself and your mother,” you stated calm and slow, walking up to him, standing a few inches away now.

He tried to speak up, but you easily interrupted him.

“And I get it, it must feel kinda bad to realise no one respects you. Not your peers, not your superiors, not even those inferior to you. Because we all see through this display for failing masculinity,” you continued, gesturing to him vaguely.

He was about a foot taller than you, but had steadily shrunk in on himself as a mortified panic settled in his eyes, fists clenching at his side.

You stepped to the side and stretched out an arm towards Steve, who stood where you’d left him, brows furrowed, arms crossed over his chest, a neutral expression of his face.

“That is a man, Jason, and quite frankly, the opposite of everything you are. Now I know you suffer from the extreme lack of balls, but I actually had no idea you lacked brains also. Because if you had the cognitive ability above a fucking cockroach, you would see that man as the ally and mentor he so gladly offers to be - not that you deserve it - and you wouldn’t be in this situation.” You patted his shoulder twice with your hand before stepping away.

Your senses tingled suddenly, and you dodged the swing of his arm as it came from the left. The crowd around you gasped.

Oh no, he didn’t. Did he really think he could take you on after having trained personally with Captain fucking America? He wouldn't catch you off guard again…

You spun around, dodged his right arm, and gave him a clear slap across the cheek with a flat hand. The smack was crisp, making the crowd around you draw in a collective breath. He grunted and swung again, keeping up the same, predictable move. You dodged easily, spun around him and gave him another slap, this time on his ass. The crowd laughed. He gave a pathetic roar before spinning and lunging on you. You bowed and flipped him easily using your back, and he landed with a hard dunk on the concrete floor of the hallway. Getting up to his knees, you gave him a closed fist punch across the face for your own enjoyment (you knew Steve would reprimand you later for being unnecessarily callous).

That’ll do it for now, you thought as you quickly immobilized him by tripping him over on his stomach on the floor, straddling his ass and pinning his arms on his back. He groaned in frustration as you kept him in the tight grip, not relenting. The crowd around you cheered, and peering over your shoulder you could see the clear amusement shining in Steve’s eyes, along with his pride. You almost giggled.

Bending down, you whispered in Jason's ear.

“Cause if you keep up this little class-act caveman thing, this is all you’re gonna see for the rest of your life. Disgust on the faces of the women in your life, and pity on the men’s. Now kindly fuck off, Jason, I’m tired of looking at your face.”

You let him go and he grunted weakly at you.

Deciding this was your mic drop, you returned to Steve and you fell into step as you resumed your walk up the hallway. Steve let you lead in your victory as the crowd kept cheering loudly behind you. It was exhilarating, but what felt best was knowing you had defended Steve for once.

As you rounded the corner at the other end, Steve abruptly and quickly pushed you up against the wall, his mouth attacking yours. You yelped into his mouth, but melted into his body as it pinned you to the wall. He pushed his thigh between yours and you felt the rock hard bulge in his pants press against your belly. He was frantic as his hands roamed your body, possessive and hungry.

You broke the kiss in amazement, seeing his lust blown eyes.

“Did you like that?” you asked, and you knew you had the most doofy smile on your face.

“That was amazing,” Steve said, panting a bit from his kiss. “I had to fight myself to not take you then and there, God, you’re so fucking sexy when you’re fiesty,” he said, admiration and lust clear in his voice and you bit your lip as his words sent sharp sparks of arousal down below.

“You know I was right. He’s a man-child, and a dick, and has nothing on you,” you said, needing to know Steve wouldn’t take what he said to heart.

“I mean, there’s a reason I didn’t break it off. The guy has had it coming for a long time, I’m just glad I got to watch,” he chuckled, and you laughed with him, still pinned between his body and the wall, your hands running up his back.

“And because it was me, right?” you asked teasingly, a hand coming down to cup the prominent tent in his pants.

“Yes, but strictly for pedagogical reasons. I needed to see if you’ve mastered the tricks I’ve taught you,” he said, trying to be nonchalant and failing as the last words ended in a groan. You were moving your hand steadily over the bulge now, eliciting soft pants from the man.

“I want your feedback on some tricks in the bedroom, Captain Rogers. Could you oblige me?” you asked, giving his chin a lithe kiss.

He groaned deep in his chest, and for a split second you actually got nervous someone would find you if he kept those noises up.

“Lead the way,” he whispered against your lips.

You did, almost running.

Author’s note: God, this one cheers me up. It was exhilarating to be able to live out my childhood dream of beating up bullies through this text lmao. Sorry if your name’s Jason lol<3

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x Y/N #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x you

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forasecondtherewedwon · 3 years

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Dolls’ Eyes — A Jaws AU

Pairings: established Peggy/Steve, developing Brunnhilde/Carol Rating: T Chapters: 14/14

Summary: Tony Stark snapped his fingers and the vanished half of the universe returned, but Thanos escaped the battlefield, fleeing into space. Now that he’s virtually powerless, most of the Avengers consider chasing him all over the universe a waste of resources, but Peggy Carter—newly deposited in the 21st century—is determined to finish the job. Brunnhilde and Carol Danvers have the same idea.

When scattered rumours of fresh killings escalate to the death of one of their own, the three women team up to defeat Thanos once and for all.

read the prologue

read ch. 1 one / 2 two / 3 three / 4 four / 5 five 6 six / 7 seven / 8 eight / 9 nine / 10 ten 11 eleven / 12 twelve / 13 thirteen / 14 fourteen

After everything, Carol wasn’t surprised that Brunnhilde put up a fight over being told to just rest. Carol reminded her that she was lucky to be alive, to which Brunnhilde responded that it wasn’t anything like luck, and went on to list the incredible, lifesaving properties of her fine armour, explain the enhanced durability provided by her Asgardian biology, and enumerate all of the injuries she’d previously sustained that were apparently worse than being electrocuted half to death, and then nearly drowning while incapacitated. Carol didn’t believe half of it, but it was kinda hot when Brunnhilde bragged.

So, in spite of Carol’s efforts, Brunnhilde kept getting up the second her back was turned in order to haul bodies off of Thanos’s ship. As they started to fix everything Carol had broken (including a patch job of that hole in the roof), a scan of the local environment informed them that almost all of the life on this planet was aquatic. They left the stack of corpses on land. Whatever water critters were around, they didn’t need toxic eyeball goo leeching into their habitat.

Carol caught Brunnhilde shaking out a twitching arm and made her sit to do electronic repairs rather than manual labour. (Carol had that handled anyway, plus, she knew where all the bodies were because she was the one who’d left them there.) Brunnhilde protested that she was the captain. Carol came way too close to saying not of this ship, but stopped herself. Instead, she suggested Brunnhilde do like any other captain would and let her underlings take on the grunt work. That got a smile, if not verbal agreement.

Thankfully, Peggy was a fast learner; Carol explained the basics of what she’d done to wreck something and Peggy quickly understood how to walk back the damage. They worked their way through the ship, staying at neighbouring stations so Carol would be there if Peggy had questions, and Peggy would be there if (when) Carol had messed something up so badly that it needed four hands to fix.

“Maria would’ve been great with this,” she said without thinking, holding up a fistful of wires while Peggy tinkered beneath.

“Maria?”

It was easier to talk about her than it had ever been before. Like with the repairs, she could tell that Peggy understood without Carol having to do much more than gush over how good Maria had been at fixing stuff, how thorough she’d been with the plane she’d kept in the hangar on her property, how reliable, how trustworthy, how patient…

“Yes,” Peggy told her with a smile. “She sounds like she was wonderful.”

“She was.”

But when the two of them had finished their circuit of the ship and Carol went to tell Brunnhilde they were good to go, she wasn’t there. Carol panicked, worried that Brunnhilde had overheard all her praise of Maria and somehow missed the tone of a person who was in the late stages of grief, who had accepted the worst and was keen to keep living, maybe even loving.

When she couldn’t find her on the ship, she jogged down the ramp, intending to look for her outside. The second she turned to face the water, she spotted Brunnhilde coming towards her from the escape vessel. Carol ran out to meet her.

“What’s all this?” she asked in a tone of amusement, because Brunnhilde had her arms full.

“Food, Peggy’s jacket, a couple beers that didn’t get smashed when Thanos rammed us, uh…” She tried to examine the rest of the pile she was carrying, but it teetered and slipped; laughing, Carol scooped a few things out of her arms before they could end up in the shallow water.

“I thought you might’ve taken off on us,” she said lightly.

“I didn’t think you thought I’d be capable of that after getting zapped.”

“I was just…”

Brunnhilde walked close, pressing her arm into Carol’s.

“I know. I would’ve been the same way if it’d been you.”

“I don’t even know if I can get electrocuted,” Carol said.

“I’m not gonna recommend trying it for fun,” Brunnhilde told her. “Anyway, I used all my discs on Thanos and I dropped the remote in the water somewhere… You’d have to go to Thor with your request, ask him to bring the lightning down.”

“Straight to Thor?!” Carol laughed. “That seems a little extreme.”

“Or you could just stand around outside in New Asgard during a storm and wait for it to happen naturally.”

“And why would I need to be in New Asgard specifically?” Carol asked in a teasing voice. “I could get struck by lightning anywhere.”

She watched Brunnhilde flounder but couldn’t get an answer out of her, not on the way to the ship, not while she was distracted with Peggy asking her a slew of health questions, and not while they were trying to figure out how to get this humongous spaceship off the ground with a crew of only three people.

As they made their rocky assent, Carol was too busy to wonder whether Brunnhilde had heard her talking about Maria before she’d left the ship to scavenge from the escape craft. They had just broken through the atmosphere, blue sky giving way to black, when Brunnhilde spoke.

“Love’s like war.”

It was so sudden that Carol snorted a laugh.

“Ok, poet,” she said. She was tempted to devote some time to getting Thanos’s ship to play her music, if only to put on ‘Love Is a Battlefield’ for Brunnhilde. To let her know what had been said on the subject already.

She smirked to herself when Brunnhilde continued, clearly not giving a shit about her interruption or joking criticism.

“It is.”

“What do you mean?” Carol asked more seriously.

Brunnhilde shifted in her seat, engaging different protocols for outer space travel. Carol noticed the tremor had gone from her arm.

“You do better in both because of experience,” Brunnhilde said, looking straight out the viewport. “Anybody who can’t appreciate the benefit of falling for someone who’s been in love before is a fucking idiot.”

“And you’re not a fucking idiot.”

“I hope that isn’t a question.”

Carol smiled and shook her head. They flew in silence for a while.

“When we get back,” she said eventually, peering shyly over at her captain, “I owe someone important to me a visit, but then I’m coming to see you. Just a heads-up.”

“Vaguely threatening.”

“Sorry.”

“No,” Brunnhilde told her, grabbing her forearm to get her full attention, “I liked it.”

Heat raced up Carol’s neck until she was blushing as bright red as her suit, or the dumb acid burn on her arm.

Just then, Peggy’s agitated voice came from the other end of the wide flight deck.

“Someone’s coming right at us!”

Before Carol had the chance to say what the hell? or who? or again?, an incoming message threw a distantly familiar face up in front of them, hovering in the form of a hologram.

“Hey,” Carol greeted. “Small universe.”

—

Peggy had never thought to imagine what Gamora might be like. She’d had an account of Peter Quill’s affection for her from Rocket, but had recognized that a portrayal of the woman that crew had known—the woman Peter had loved enough to forfeit his life in the quest for reunion—couldn’t be fully accurate. At best, the Gamora they described would be one layer removed from the real person. The Gamora they had known and the one whose hologram had just appeared before Peggy, Carol, and Brunnhilde were a handful of years and a thousand experiences apart.

It seemed absurd to Peggy that this woman may wish to harm them, but she really ought to have considered it.

“Was it your distress signal I picked up?” Gamora asked flatly, eyes locked on Carol in the pilot’s seat.

“Umm… yep.”

“And you still require assistance?”

Carol glanced at Brunnhilde, then over to Peggy, who nodded. They certainly had worked wonders, she felt, in getting this massive spaceship off the planet, but who knew how many things could go wrong between here and Earth? Peggy doubted either of her shipmates had told her the half of it. They were simply short-staffed, too few fingers available to plug any metaphorical leaks they might spring on the journey.

“Yes please,” Carol told her.

With a nod, 2014 Gamora went from unknown quantity to ally. Peggy sighed in relief.

The three of them were transported directly from Thanos’s ship to Gamora’s. The process was quite indescribable, Peggy thought. Tingly, quick, with a bit of a lurch as she rematerialized on an entirely different flight deck from the one she’d just left. Had the transfer been instantaneous? Had she, perhaps, ceased to exist for a moment or two? She was full of questions but unsure to whom she should direct them.

Gamora, while welcoming in deed, was somewhat inscrutable when they met her face-to-face. Standoffish. Unsure of herself, Peggy realized. Immediately, she warmed to the woman. She had been in her place herself once, sort of, if not precisely in her intimidating boots. It hadn’t been so long ago that she’d been ferried through time to find the world completely changed. What Gamora needed was a reason to trust them the way they were trusting her.

“I take it you killed my father?” Gamora asked plainly once they were aboard.

Oh dear. It seemed they weren’t off to a very auspicious start.

Brunnhilde stepped in front of Carol, who’d just been opening her mouth to speak, presumably to claim responsibility.

“I was the captain,” she stated. “Thanos was killed on my orders.”

“Uh, no, not explicitly,” Carol argued.

“Anyway,” Peggy piped up, “I’m the one who shot him in the head.”

“And he was only vulnerable to that because I electrocuted him to within an inch of his despicable life and his helmet fell off,” Brunnhilde countered.

“On a planet I flew us to,” Carol reminded them.

“We’ll be sharing the blame,” Peggy informed Gamora on behalf of her crewmates.

Gamora cocked her head consideringly.

“And if it’s approval?” To their universal silence, she explained, “I know what he was capable of in my time, and I saw enough of Earth to get a general idea of what he was set to accomplish if he wasn’t stopped.”

“Were you out here hunting him too?” Peggy took a step towards her.

Directing her gaze away from them, Gamora blinked rapidly, looking momentarily confused and upset. In the next second, she’d hidden any outward hint of those feelings.

“I should’ve been,” she said, “but I’ve never been able to stand up to him like I should have. After I left your planet… for a while, I wasn’t looking for him. But I began to see signs. And then Peter Quill came.”

“Peter!” Carol said. “You saw him? Did you talk to him? Rocket never said—”

“No. I just watched. I followed him for a while. I knew he was looking for me. He was so… loud.” Gamora made a face. “Leaving word for me everywhere, telling traders and transports that he was my boyfriend. He was an idiot, but an entertaining idiot… I barely noticed that I’d stopped keeping track of Thanos until he just showed up…

“I was a coward,” Gamora went on. “I saw my father intercept Peter’s ship and I knew what would probably happen, but I couldn’t put myself between the two of them. Was I supposed to stand up for this guy when I’d never been able to stand up for myself? I was raised to be cruel, to think of myself, that attachments formed to accomplish anything but the acquisition of power make you weak. I know Thanos killed Peter. It’s my fault he’s dead.”

Peggy stood in front of her, refraining from placing a reassuring hand on Gamora’s shoulder when she gave her cagey eyes.

“It’s not,” Peggy told her firmly.

“I only heard your distress signal because I heard Peter’s first,” Gamora said. “I went onboard after my father had left; it was days before I could force myself to do it, maybe longer. I used his communications system to speak to his crewmates on Earth.”

“You must’ve just missed us leaving,” Brunnhilde said.

“That’s what he told me. He said three more morons had left the planet, on their way to hunt down Thanos.”

“And you’ve helped us,” Peggy said, tone insistent. “If you do feel any responsibility for what happened to Peter, then surely you should also believe that you’ve redeemed yourself by saving our backsides.”

Gamora’s eyes squinted as though she were in pain.

“I owed him more than this and I hate it,” she said, jaw clenched. “He was no one to me. He knew someone I’m never going to become.”

“Shhh. I know,” Peggy said soothingly.

“I don’t see how that’s possible. Have you ever had someone tell you they love you when it feels like it’s impossible that they even know you? That whoever they loved had to be a different person from who you are?”

Peggy’s shoulders fell. She could feel the bittersweet smile on her face.

“Actually, yes.”

Gamora appeared surprised to have been brought up short in such a manner.

“Do you have any advice?” Peggy urged softly.

For a minute, Gamora was quiet, staring hard at the wall. Peggy could feel that the others had backed away, giving them time and space when Gamora’s stream of information had been diverted by the confusing grief she was obviously experiencing.

“Whatever lengths he goes to because he thinks you’re better than you are…” Gamora finally said, turning her head to look Peggy in the eye. “Try to be worth it.”

“Got it.”

Peggy folded her hands together, pressing her right palm to her wedding ring.

—

They were about to get underway, their new crew of four on a significantly smaller, though sleeker, ship. (Brunnhilde didn’t mourn for the one they’d left in the shallows; it had served them well, first the Asgardians and now the team responsible for the death of Thanos.) However, staring out the viewport from the seat in which she’d been installed as the effective second-in-command, Brunnhilde didn’t feel right. The sight of Thanos’s ship just hanging there in space unnerved her. It would be better if no trace of the Titan remained.

“Let’s blast it,” she suggested to the deck at large.

“Thanos’s spaceship?” Peggy checked.

“Yes.”

“Well,” Carol said, “we aren’t near anything. There’s nothing for the debris to hit…”

Brunnhilde smiled slightly and looked to the captain.

“Gamora? Do you have any weapons on this ship that could do the job?”

“There is one thing I’ve been saving for a special occasion,” Gamora said, gaze fixed on Thanos’s ship. “First, we’re going to need to get clear.”

She piloted them away—away from the planet, away from the ship. Part of Brunnhilde wanted to request the honour of launching the torpedo Gamora was setting the coordinates for, locking it onto her late father’s final vessel, but she was already satisfied with the role she’d played. Let Gamora take this final, symbolic step. It was like Thor’s hideous couch; Brunnhilde had helped him lug the thing into the open air, but permitted him to drop the match (once she’d soaked the cushions in lighter fluid, just in case it wasn’t sufficiently saturated in spilled beer). She would content herself with watching it go up in flames.

And it did. It was an impressive explosion, scattering wreckage in a wide perimeter Gamora had kept them outside of. They were briefly silent as jagged hunks of metal twisted in the void.

“That’s one way to get the stink of dead bodies out,” Carol noted, and Brunnhilde turned to her, shoulders shaking with laughter Carol quickly joined in on.

They flew for some time, and it was good just to relax, to stretch in her seat and tilt her head from side to side so that her neck cracked horrendously and Peggy said things like “good lord!” while Carol laughed her ass off. Brunnhilde remained alert though. She couldn’t help it. In the old days, with the Valkyrie, there’d been a certain relief when the battle in which they’d been engaged was done, but they’d only known true rest once they’d returned to Asgard. Home. The last time she’d been on a ship bound for Earth, the atmosphere had been one of intense grief, muffled weeping in the corridors. They’d known Earth as Midgard and had little admiration for its country of Norway, chilly with fog and swathed in the bleak colours that reflected their inner emptiness. Nothing they loved was there—not their people, not their gleaming towers and soaring statues. How could it ever possibly feel like coming home?

Brunnhilde had honestly believed she’d lost her ability to experience that feeling, that, without her sisters-in-arms, the sensation was lost to her. Yet, despite the tension she still carried from the fight, she felt it easing. She felt herself longing for home, her little house at the water’s edge. For the chance to return to her people as their king and announce a great evil defeated. Maybe this tension was only anticipation after all.

In contrast to the fruits of her own contemplation and revelation, Gamora’s private thoughts had left her expression mournful and roving. Brunnhilde exited the deck to relieve herself and find something to eat in Gamora’s stores, and when she returned, she addressed her.

“You’re not taking us all the way to Earth, are you?”

Gamora flicked her gaze sideways to assess her. Brunnhilde knew there was no judgement to be found in her face, so she stared back calmly.

“I’m taking you to Quill’s ship. Thanos, in his infinite arrogance, didn’t damage it. Maybe he thought he might like to return to it some time and claim it as part of his fleet. It’s a tribute to how much I continue to feel my father’s influence that I planned to do the same. Not build a fleet, but go back. There’s something about that ship… I find it comforting.”

Brunnhilde frowned thoughtfully.

“Are you sure you don’t want to take it and leave this one for us?”

“No. What I felt when I was onboard, examining it and… and removing Quill’s body for space burial… that was just a feeling of, I don’t know, another life. There’s a group on Earth for whom that ship means something. And it’s the only thing they have of him. I couldn’t keep it.”

“One of those people is your sister,” Brunnhilde said carefully.

“Yes.”

“I tried to talk to her, but she doesn’t like me very much. I don’t blame her,” she added as Gamora gave her a wary look. “She was upset.”

“Nebula is at her most dangerous when upset, and she’s always upset, so she’s always dangerous.”

“She was upset about Peter’s death. But I think also because, without him, no one was out here looking for you.”

Gamora stiffened.

“If she really wants to find me, she can come look for me herself. I’ll be ready.”

“She doesn’t want to fight you,” Brunnhilde said. “She misses you. I think. It’s really none of my business.”

“Why would you wish to get involved in our family affairs?” Gamora’s voice was more curious than accusing. “Besides murdering our father, of course.”

Brunnhilde sighed before answering.

“I’ve lost many people I cared about. I don’t have a family anymore.” She glanced over to see Carol and Peggy bent over a screen together, Carol’s sudden snort infecting Peggy until they were both laughing. “I mean,” Brunnhilde corrected herself, “I didn’t.”

When they arrived at the Benatar and Gamora transported Carol and Peggy off her ship, Brunnhilde motioned for Gamora to hold off a moment on removing her.

“If we don’t meet again,” she said, sticking out her arm for Gamora to grasp.

Gamora gripped her tightly and nodded.

“I think we might though. I thought about it and realized it’s easier for me to find Nebula than for her to find me.”

“I may have left you her coordinates.” Brunnhilde released Gamora’s arm. “Enjoy Missouri.”

She joined Peggy and Carol on the Benatar, pausing to bend over Carol’s seat to surprise her with a deep kiss before she took up her own position. She brushed stray strands of hair back out of Carol’s dancing eyes.

“I’m going to have to redo your braid,” Brunnhilde told her.

“Oh, we’ll have time. We’ve got quite a road trip ahead of us. Luckily… Peter left us his tunes.” Beaming, she started up a song with a bright beat.

Brunnhilde smiled and went to her seat, fastening herself in as Carol readied the vessel for launch.

“You know,” Peggy said thoughtfully, slinging her jacket over the back of her chosen seat, “before all of this, I was actually quite afraid of outer space.”

Carol laughed.

“I can’t imagine why.”

#my writing #Dolls' Eyes #MCU #Avengers: Endgame #Peggy Carter #Brunnhilde #Carol Danvers #Valkyrie #Captain Marvel #Steve Rogers #Nick Fury

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hanoella · 3 years

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Affettuoso- With Feeling (Part 3)

Pairing: Bucky x Pianist!Reader

Set after the events of TFATWS: In an effort to start over and make a home in Louisiana, Bucky meets a friend of Sam’s who ends up being his landlord. With only a driveway to separate them, he finds that he’s not the only one looking for a fresh start.

Series tags/warnings: Slow Burn, Eventual Bucky x Reader, Mentions of Domestic Abuse, Canon Level Violence

Part 3 Word Count: 3k

A/N: Can you tell I don't really have a posting schedule? lol. I also introduced links to the specific pieces I had in mind. I'm using soundcloud because I don't think everyone has access to spotify. Trying to be reader friendly! This can be read with or without the audio, as I do my best to still convey the thought in the fic. Though if you can, I highly recommend :)

Thanks again for all your support! Every heart and comment motivates me and is just so wonderful

Read Part 1; Masterlist

---

A few days had passed since the night that Bucky had overheard your troubles. It had been quiet since, and you hadn’t left the house. The curtains were opened during the day and closed at night, the only telltale signs that you existed.

Doesn’t she have to work? Bucky thought to himself. He speculated all the different possibilities as he used the riding mower around the property. Maybe you were an heiress? You seemed pretty down to earth though. Or maybe you sold a patented idea for a ton of money. All this land had to have been expensive. And to not request actual money from him?

He eyed up the width of the gate for your fence. The riding mower couldn’t fit so he would have to use a push mower for your fenced off yard. He hadn’t seen one in the garage. Maybe the old shed at the back of your yard had one? Bucky parked the mower in the garage, taking a moment to make a mental list of everything. Depending on if he found anything in the shed, he might need to buy a few basic tools and a chainsaw for that fallen tree.

He walked out of the garage and over to the shed. The leaves were changing color and it brought a whole new atmosphere to the secluded forest area. Opening the gate of the weathered white fence, he looked around to see if you were out. No signs of life. Entering the yard and closing the gate behind him, he started walking to the back. Halfway through, he stopped at the fire pit. The grey stone blocks were starting to crumble, with a few of the bricks having fallen off. It would probably be really nice if he got a little bit of cement mix and filled in the gaps. Bucky made another mental note.

The shed had no padlock so he was able to open it with no problem. Amongst the cobwebs and bags of soil, was an older green push mower that looked like it might work. He gave the gas a pull and got no response back. Looking underneath, Bucky saw what might be the problem. He’d have to take a closer look later. Putting the lawn mower back onto its wheels, he pushed it across the yard, pausing when he saw movement though the glass doors of the back patio.

Craning his neck to avoid the glare, he saw you sitting at your fancy full keyboard. The way the piano was against the opposite wall, your back was to him. You had big over-ear headphones plugged into it, so he couldn’t hear the sound but he saw the flurry of keys being pressed down. Whatever you were playing, you played passionately. Hands and arms gracefully moved despite the speed at which they were moving. Enhanced hearing coming into play, he heard the muffled clicks of the fluttering keys. Suddenly, you pressed down forcefully, holding whatever chord you had struck as your shoulders gently relaxed. A deep breath. Arm creating a graceful arc as if you had studied ballet, you pressed gently on another chord. And another. Bucky counted three more times you did this before you let your hands gently fall from the keys to your lap. Several moments passed before slid the headphones off of your ears to sit wrapped around your neck. Another deep breath. This time as the breath escaped you, you stayed slouched, head tilting up to stare at nothing on the wall.

A buzz broke Bucky from his trance.

“Call me, new mission” The text from Sam on his home screen said.

He pocketed his phone, glancing through the glass one more time. There you still sat.

Unmoving.

---

The roar of the plane’s engine was just loud enough to drown out Bucky’s thoughts without being annoying. If it weren’t for the adrenaline of the recovery mission under the cover of nightfall, he probably would’ve been lulled to sleep. Beside him sat Sam, looking on his phone for the exact coordinates of the politician they had been sent to rescue.

“Here it is. I’m assuming there’s some sort of underground base since there are no heat signatures anywhere within the radius where he was taken. It should take us about ten more minutes before we’re directly over it.”

Bucky hummed in acknowledgement.

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Earth to Bucky.”

“What does your friend do?” Bucky asked suddenly, sitting up straighter and turning towards him.

“… What?”

“What does she do? I’ve never seen her leave the house. Is she okay?”

“If you’re asking why she doesn’t leave the house, it’s because her contract doesn’t start for a while. She’s technically still supposed to be in physical therapy but she hasn’t found a place yet. You know, your whole routine gets messed up when you move.”

“For her shoulder?”

Now it was Sam’s turn to look at Bucky, trying to decipher the motive behind these questions. Bucky shifted his weight in the chair, antsy under the scrutiny.

“Never mind, I-”

“Yes, for her shoulder.” Sam said, cutting him off. He stopped himself from asking why Bucky wanted to know. There was an awkward pause before Bucky explained himself.

“I just wanted to know. I’m not used to seeing people so…”

“Similar to yourself?”

“I was gonna say isolated but fair point.” Bucky admitted. Sam leaned back in his chair, looking straight forward.

“She’s been through a lot… I know you heard some of it.”

Bucky blinked in surprise.

“I realized the window was open when I could hear you drive off.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s alright, it’s good that you know.” Sam said as he held up his hand to cut Bucky off.

“She’s just trying to get a fresh start. She’s in a raw emotional space and in the meantime is a little skittish. Just like someone else I know.” Sam jabbed his elbow into Bucky’s side as he enunciated the last sentence.

“Okay, okay, I get it. I’m trying!” He shouted as he held one hand up defensively and using the other to block the second jab Sam was trying to get in. Sam chuckled and then stood up, grabbing a parachute pack and tossing it at Bucky, who caught it without even looking.

“Figured you might wanna try an actual chute this time.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and mouthed Sam’s words mockingly with a grimace as he put the backpack on. Clipping it into place, he joined Sam at the side door of the plane.

“She used to play in an orchestra you know.” Sam said wistfully. “The piano. That’s actually how we met. She had volunteered to play a small concert before the dinner. It really helped raise a lot of money for the VA.”

Bucky stayed silent, prompting him to continue.

“Then that bastard she was engaged to beat her and then shoved her down a set of concrete steps when she tried to leave him. It was like a month after we all came back. She was in the hospital for a while. Broken ribs, broken shoulder, and a nasty concussion to boot. Neighbor saw the whole thing and called the cops but the courts were so backed up and the case fell through the cracks. Wouldn’t leave her alone after he got out. So, I pulled some strings and helped her move down here on the fly.”

“… That’s terrible.”

Bucky didn’t know what to say or how to react. They stood in silence, taking a moment to pay a respect of sorts to the trials you have been through. Then Sam broke the silence.

“She just needs time to heal in more ways than one. But she’s strong. Resilient.”

Putting a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, he squeezed it lightly with reassurance.

“Reminds me of someone else I know.” Sam said, finishing the conversation and pulling his goggles over his eyes, giving Bucky the opportunity to take the compliment without feeling too on the spot.

Pulling the door open, Sam shouted over the wind.

“Ready?”

Bucky nodded. Sam jumped from the plane and deployed the wings, the shield shining in the moonlight. Bucky jumped right behind him, using the glint of the silver star to guide his descent as he followed the man that gave the shield its meaning.

---

You laid with your head down on the kitchen table, letting the last golden rays of sun warm the side of your face. You were exhausted from going to physical therapy, especially since today had been the first appointment. All the measurements, all the exercises, all the stretching.

All the questions.

“So, how did you break your shoulder?” the young blonde physical therapist asked.

“Ah, I… fell down some stairs.” You said, looking down at your hands in your lap.

She didn’t look up from the papers, instead just raising an eyebrow.

“You also cracked some ribs and had a concussion?”

“… They were concrete.”

She looked up from the papers at you, analyzing. Her gaze softened and she asked no further questions on how these serious injuries had been obtained.

“Let’s look at your range of motion.”

You had practically stumbled into the house, kicking off your sneakers and plopping down at the kitchen table. Minutes passed by as you regained your breath, heartbeat steadying. The house was slightly cold since you had turned the heat down this morning. As your sweat cooled, you wrapped your arms around your legs in an attempt to keep you warm without getting up.

The sun feels so warm… You thought to yourself drowsily, feeling slightly less lonely. The sun was a cheap substitute for the warmth of a partner…

---

You jolted upright, the kitchen dark and cold. Neck and shoulder stiff from the awkward position you had dozed off in. Feeling the dryness of your mouth, you got up, stretching your neck gently while you walked to the fridge to get water. Chugging about half the bottle, you squinted at the clock. You had been asleep for about forty-five minutes. Groaning, you put the bottle down on the counter and walked into the living room to close the curtains. Grabbing one in each hand, you went to pull them together when you hesitated, noticing that Bucky’s apartment was dark for the third day in a row. The sleek motorbike that was usually parked under the slight overhang of the garage was missing as well.

He was probably on a mission, right? Not that it was any of your business. You shut the curtains and turned off the lights before lightly padded down the hall, stopping to adjust the thermostat. The heat kicked on, sending a puff of cold air your way. You shivered as you walked with a quickened pace to your room, shutting the door and heading into the master bathroom, turning the hot water on with just a tad of cold.

Waiting for the shower to warm up, you leaned over the sink and looked into the mirror. Dark circles under your eyes. Small scar on the bridge of your nose. Running your hand through the roots of your hair, you felt for the scar where the stitches had been. When was the last time you had a haircut? Or put on some makeup?

Some higher being must’ve felt pity for you since the steam from the shower fogged the glass, preventing you from tearing yourself apart any further. Stepping underneath the warm stream, you let the warmth seep into your muscles, then bones, filling every fracture and break with a temporary sense of wholeness until the emptiness of your heart and home caused it slowly to drip out until it, along with you, was gone.

---

The next morning, you weren’t motivated to do anything. You lounged around the house, sipping on coffee and browsing on your phone for furniture, clothes, even sneaking a peak at some pianos. Wanting to invest in one you’d use for the next several decades, you had put off buying one until the money from your contract with the orchestra started in a month. You were still well off, nowhere near struggling and probably wouldn’t ever be unless you decided to buy a mansion (which was a no). You just wanted to be careful.

In the afternoon, you popped a pain killer and muscle relaxer in preparation for the few hours you wanted to practice. Thirty minutes went by and the ever-present ache in your shoulder calmed enough to let you practice with relative peace. Sitting on the bench in front of the keyboard, you pondered what you might play to warm up.

Hmm, maybe a Chopin prelude? Short, emotional, familiar.

Your left hand held the soft deep chords as your right hand softly flitted around the higher notes. Breathing in and out with the music, you tried to ignore the ache that start to surround your shoulder.

Playing the last few notes, you paused before reaching over to the bottle of painkillers.

---

Shortly after finishing up, you dragged a small table outside next to the wooden bench swing that was hanging on the porch. Bundled up in a soft sweatshirt, long-sleeve shirt, wool lined leggings, fuzzy socks and slippers, you brought out your hot tea, several blankets, a pillow, and a book you had been meaning to read for months. You were determined to do something besides practice, watch TV, and scroll on your phone.

You settled onto the bench, wrapping the blanket around you, nice and toasty from the layers trapping in the heat of a thorough practice session. The extra medication had really helped keep the pain at bay. Tentatively sipping the steaming cup, you closed your eyes to further appreciate the sweet tones of peach and honey. Setting the cup in your lap with one hand, you used your other hand to flip open to the first page.

---

Bucky hadn’t expected the mission to get so complicated. Finding the base was one thing, navigating in and out of the expansive maze was another. It took a few days to successfully get the target out and back to the embassy. He hadn’t properly slept during that time due to taking shifts with Sam. Not that it was any different from how he slept at home.

The sun was letting its last few rays bless the earth when he turned onto the driveway. Taking it easy on the gravel, he eased his posture and slowed the bike. He put pressure on the brakes as he made it past the final wall of trees that hid the water that was reflecting the last bit of color left in the sky. Rolling casually into a stop, he parked and let out a deep breath, shoulders sinking.

A stray bird calling out turned his attention in the direction of your house. The porch light was on. That’s new, he thought. Squinting his eyes, he saw a bundle on the porch swing. Was that you? Quietly walking over while taking his leather gloves off, he confirmed his suspicions. There you were, lying on your side propped up by a large fuzzy pillow. Eyes closed and breathing rhythmically. Scanning the scene, he noticed the mug on the side table, empty except for the used teabag. Your book was closed, the page you were on marked by one of your fingers. You must’ve fallen asleep while reading.

“Hey…” Bucky said gently. No response besides a small nose scrunch.

He repeated himself a little louder, squatting to be at eye level while gently setting his hand on your arm and shaking you lightly. You groaned this time, eyes fluttering open, taking a moment to focus. You squinted and pushed yourself up into a sitting position, losing your place in the book and attempting to blink the heavy drowsiness from your eyes.

“Bucky?” You questioned hoarsely as you met his eyes. He was still crouching so you were looking slightly down at him. Brow furrowed, you searched the blue of his eyes before looking around to see how dark it had gotten. As you turned your head back to him, he stood back up, scratching the back of his neck just to occupy his hands.

“It’s starting to get cold. I didn’t want you to spend the rest of the night out here.” He explained, choosing to look out at the water, now dark. When he turned his head back, you had also turned your head to look at the water, exposing the side of your neck, the tendons and clavicle accentuated by the strain. Bucky swallowed and your eyes met his, oblivious.

“Ah, thank you. I must’ve fallen asleep reading. I just started going back to physical therapy so I’ve just been so wiped… Anyway,” you said, dismissing yourself mid-thought. He didn’t want to hear about all that. “…did you just come back from a mission?” You eyed the diagonal cuts of leather on his jacket, noting the missing sleeve that exposed the glint of the metal.

“Yeah. I was gone for a few days.”

“Okay. I’m glad you’re home safe.” You mindlessly said, picking up the book and other various items strewn about.

Home safe. What an unfamiliar phrase.

As the words echoed in his mind, you had opened the door and stepped in, turning your head slightly to look back at him.

“Thanks again… Good night.”

“Good night.” Bucky replied, watching as you shut the door softly behind you.

Slowly walking down the porch steps, he crossed the driveway to the garage. Turning his head just in time to see the last light turn off in your house, he stood with his hand on the knob, meditating on the effect that one short sentence had on him.

Glad you’re home safe. Was this what it was like when you had someone waiting on you at home? The tired eyes and gentle smile. Would that be what it was like when he came home in the middle of a night from a mission when he had someone to share a bed with? Gently shaking them to let them know he was home? Or would he try to sneak into bed without waking them? He tried to imagine what that sort of intimacy would be like as he entered his apartment and then his room. Unzipping his jacket and tossing it over a chair, he stripped down to his boxer briefs and climbed into bed, wondering what it would be like if it was already warm.

#bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky imagine #SoundCloud

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beigehearts · 3 years

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The Price of Self Respect

this is part one of a series of yandere chrollo x fem!reader. this story will contain explicit content. Warnings at the beginning of the chapter. Please send me requests if you wish to for hxh characters and scenarios! ❤

PART I Read part two here! CW: mentions of death, murder, and gore 1,730 words

____________________________________________

It had been many days since you had received an assignment as a hunter. At this point you would have taken a request to open a pickle jar. You had an agent who sourced your jobs through to you that way no one could know your identity. Your agent barely knows your identity outside of your phone number. While you are no where near as infamous as the Zoldyck Family- you definitely are not unknown. “The Creator” is what most people would refer to you as- quite fitting for your ability. Specialists are not as scarce as people make them out to be; a specialist who utilizes their ability as best as they can is scarce. You conjure a pencil, and you can draw anything into existence. Your nen concentrates in your hand and you can create life (or at least a husk of life). Drawing animals or weapons, even humans (who aren’t quite sentient) earned you your high respect as a hunter.

You gaze out of the window at the quiet streets of a city you’ve never travelled to. While the hotel is large and towers over the town, it is probably the biggest building for miles. Bzzzz. You turn towards your bed and see your phone screen is lit up. Picking up the phone you see a single message from the only saved number on your phone. York New. 14:00. 1278 Pearl Street. G Watanabe- Room 207. You scroll down to see the status of the person. Alive. Wanted Dead. 7 Days. Employer ---

A smile graced your lips knowing that you finally have a job. While town hopping and sight seeing for the past few weeks was a nice rst, you can’t just halt your income. You enjoy your job anyway so the money is a bonus. Ill pack in the morning you think to yourself, once you land in York New you may have some extra time to research your target.

The plane ride was smooth and quite comforting- you paid for first class. While you could use your hunter card to be priority seating, it leaves a trace of where you’ve been. Plus, you’ll be getting paid soon enough and the 12 hour plane ride in first class would be nothing compared to the fat check that would be wired to your account. Murder is expensive you know.

Stepping out of the taxi, the driver gets out and opens the trunk for you. You grab your one small backpack filled with nothing but snacks- drawn snacks are not particularly tasty. Just because you can create it doesn’t mean it’s true to the real deal. You jog towards the doors, fat rain drops assaulting you meanwhile. You get your room key under for the room you reserved under an alias and make your way to the elevator. You press the button to go up and when the elevator reaches your floor it sounds a satisfying ‘ding’ and the doors open almost soundlessly. You stepped into the confined space and to your surprise a man steps in with you. You hadn’t even sensed him nearby, it seemed as if he just popped into reality.

He’s tall, is the first thing you think when you look at him. Not necessarily tall as in feet wise (though he definitely had quite a few inches on you) but his aura and the way he carried himself made it seem as if he towered you. The corner of his lips turn upwards and suddenly he doesn’t seem so intimidating. It’s as if he was dragged back down to earth.

“Good morning, awful weather it seems.” The man says with a chuckle. You take a moment to drink in all of him. His black hair is somewhat messy, a middle part with water dripping down a few strands. A bandage is wrapped around his forehead and you wonder if it’s an injury or a fashion statement. A large fur coat cover most of his body, you’re only able to capture a glimpse of a white button up shirt at his neck.

“Terrible. My flight almost had an emergency landing.” You groan, recalling your annoyance when the captain announced this over the speakers.

“Ah so you just got in today? I got into York New about a week ago. What are you here for?”

Your eyes travel to his and you notice that they’re unusually large while seeming to only make him more attractive. “I’m on a work trip, though I shouldn’t be here long.” His lips stretch a little further into something of a grin, “What a coincidence, I’m here on business as well.”

The elevator dings and you give a quick goodbye, not necessarily because you didn’t like talking to him but because you wanted to take a nice warm shower. You sashay out of the elevator, and the back of your neck tingles, you can tell that his eyes are boring into your back.

You drop your bag onto your bed and wander over to the mirror. Looking at you in the mirror is yourself. Though you never seem to recognize this person as you. You pose in different angles but can’t find one that makes you like yourself. You grab the chub of your stomach and groan hopelessly. A world renown hunter who has killed the unkillable is staring at herself in the mirror and grimacing. You remind yourself that you’re one of the strongest specialists out there and you shouldn’t be critiquing yourself.

A day passed and your deadline is growing nearer. You draw your outfit for the day, and put on the jeans, hoodie, and heels that were super comfortable thanks to your nen. An assassin has to look good as well as kill. Your rented car waits for you in the hotel garage and when you finally make your way down there, you do a onceover of the car. There are no signs of foul play, tracking, or marking so you hop into the drivers seat comfortably. Once the car is started your phone buzzes.

+ $2000 to your account message attached: get his pass for the auction and send it to client

You nod to yourself, you had completely forgotten about the auction. Of course you were supposed to kill a member of the mafia during the auction. How could you not have made that connection. While you are intelligent, you wouldn’t say you’re smart. Once you arrive at the hotel your target is staying at, you book a room despite the fact you will not be using it for long. In the hotel room you draw a dress that makes you look like a model, all you need is to look good and your nen for this mission, this goes for most missions.

Each minute on the clock seems to last hours, you need to leave at 01:30, in order to complete your mission at 2. This is the part you hate the most, laying on the hotel bed listening to the clock tick and tick and tick. It feels almost like the clock is mocking you, and sometimes you want to just break it. Though despite this you lay on the bed staring at the ceiling, counting down every minute until the clock strikes 1:30.

The last mocking tick sound rings and you get up quickly. Walking confidently out of the room and down the large and foolishly elegant hall. You make your way to the elevators where you had a run in with that man and go down to the second floor seeing as you were residing on the fourteenth. The second floor was reserved for the mafia only, many families used this hotel to be near the auction.

The elevator opens up and you examine the hall. It is much different than the one where your room is. Lights are dimmer and the color pallet of the hall was that of red and black where as yours was blue and white. You step out onto the marble floors and your heels click against the cold surface. Something’s not right. Something is very wrong, very out of place. You can smell it. The smell of blood.

207 is closer to the end of the hallway than it is to the elevators. The lights are completely off at the end of the hallway as well. With each step towards the room of your target the lights get dimmer until there is no light. You halt and look at the room with gold numbers on it stating ‘207′. The door is cracked and you approach it cautiously. You push the door open and see your target laying on the ground in hundreds of pieces, it’s a bloody mess.

A man stands in front of the window that is the entire wall, his form dark. Now the only sound present is that of the rain pounding against the glass of the window. He turns towards you, and you quickly recognize the large fur jacket. It’s the man from the elevator, his coat is open and he’s shirtless, but covered in blood. His forehead is uncovered by the bandage that was on him previously, revealing a purple cross. His demeanor is still friendly and inviting but something is different about his eyes.

He smiles and for some reason you feel drawn to him, so you take a step forward. “I’ve been waiting y/n.”

You swallow any sense of fear you have and nod, “Oh you have?”

“Of course, I thought I would make your job easier for you.” He chuckles just like he did in the elevator, as if he didn’t just commit an atrocity. But who are you to judge? “Don’t worry, I’ll still be paying you every jenny of what was promised.”

Your head cocks to the side “So you’re my client?” He nods in response.

“And I got his pass to the auction so I would say you did a pretty good job of completing your mission.” He waves the pass at you as proof.

“Can I have the pleasure of knowing your name since you know mine?” You question.

He nods again, “Chrollo is my name. You were commissioned by the spiders.”

The spiders... It quickly clicks in your head. The phantom troupe. Which means, in front of you stands the leader of the Phantom Troupe.

“It’s nice to meet you Chrollo.”

#chrollo #yandere chrollo #phantom troupe #hxh #hunterxhunter #chrolloxreader #chrollo x y/n #chrollo x you #yandere #yandere hxh #chrollo lucilfer

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coco96 · 4 years

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LDAF - The Avengers

Hiding Magic (Avengers X Teen!Reader) Warnings: Mention of crime (stealing) Request: ... reader who is a very powerful magician ... who also robs because their family is poor ... One day all the Avengers comes to their school to give a speech. However, the reader gets there late and sees the Avengers thinking they’re about to get arrested. They then go to the Bathroom to use magic and escape. Right when R using magic Peter, Tony, Strange walks in. After talking the R ends up an Avenger.

Serenity (Avengers X Fem!Reader) Warnings: Sick child, illness Request: ... reader being a part of the avengers, but the others gets suspicious when she starts refusing missions on particular dates and she always sneaks of, but it turns out she visits a children’s hospital or something because she wants to give them hope? ...

Crushing The Grape (Avengers X Male!Reader) Warnings: Spoilers to Infinity War. Death. Reader basically tortured Thanos. Think Magneto with blood. Request: Could you do avengers x male reader where male reader kills that giant purple grape(thanos) on Titan

The Happiest Avenger (Avengers X Reader) TRIGGER WARNING: Depression and self harm mention Request: ... R is very happy to a point where they’re the happiest person on the avengers but the R is secretly messed up, they never shows it. The R has a secret they self-harm. So one day Steve finds the scars while they’re talking in the kitchen then thinks the worst. So he sets up a meeting with the crew and the next day R walks in and the crew have to act normal but then comfronts the R but the end is very fluff

Young Weapon (Avengers X Teen!Male!Reader) Warnings: Mention of violence, mention of fire, death of parents, mention of torture Request: ... reader where he’s discovered as a brainwashed assassin (like bucky) where he was taken when he was like 5 and is now 15 and he suffered worse than bucky did and they try to help him oh wow that was long

Not Happening (Avengers X Fem!Reader) Warnings: Mentions of torture, brain washing, ptsd/nightmares and killing. Request: ... reader is a superpowered teenager that the avengers took care of after finding her in a hydra base. She’s still trying to fit in but the government is trying to take her away due to her past crimes when she was still controlled by hydra ...

Scratches (Avengers X Male!Reader) Warnings: Sexual mentions Request: … Where male reader was training and took his shirt of and the avengers see he has scratches(from late night activities) on his back and tease him about it and he comes up with a sassy response. The whole late night activities don’t have to be detailed

No More Fighting Pt 1 (Avengers X Reader) | Part 2 Warnings: Death of character Request: ... before the battle cap and iron have a fight but the reader plays peacemaker and makes everything alright. At the battle the reader sacrifice themself to help the avengers get away before getting captured ... but the avengers think they k.i.a. And at the funeral cap and iron make peace for the sake of the reader

Ranger (Avengers X Fem!Reader) Warnings: Fighting Request: .... a steampunk style and meets the avengers after they see her beating up bad guys or something ...

Testing Patience (Avengers X Fem!Reader) | Part 2 Warnings: Mild swearing Request: … a very calm reader who life with the avengers in the tower and one day she is mad at something and all the avengers are there and think she is very cute when she is angry and hug her and joke on her, and she gets more angy because they think she is cute …

Anomaly (Avengers X Teen!Male!Reader) Request: ... reader who is a powerful being and all they know about their life is that they’re human with powerful powers. Avengers are trying to capture them, they’re trying to capture him to question him. because he robbed a bank and seen what the reader could do. The powers he has are called Imagination Manifestation its like imagining something and comes true. And at the end he some how gets a job at avengers

Blind Meeting (Avengers X Blind!Reader) Request: ... reader is really nervous to meet the avengers because shes blind but peter assures her that itll be fine and the avengers end up loving her

Loyalty (Avengers X Fem!Reader) Warnings: Torture, memory loss Request: ... reader gets compromised, tries to take down the avengers ... They refuse to fight her ...

Revenge Is Bloody (Avengers X Vampire Reader) | Part 2 Warnings: Blood and gore Request: ... hydra operatives keep showing up dead drained of their blood? The team are called to investigate. Bucky is fine with it but everyone seems kind of nervous cause they don’t know what their dealing with. They find out it’s a girl in her teens that hydra experimented on turning her into a vampire and she was able to over power and hunt them down. They track her and she willingly goes with them to join the team.

Much Needed Sleep (Avengers X Fem!Reader) Warnings: passing out, swearing. Request: ... reader has insomnia and barely sleeps. She lies to the rest of them (the avengers) so they don’t worry. She has about 4 hours sleep a night, sometimes less. When she’s doing a mission, she collapses from exhaustion ...

Mistake (Avengers X Reader) Warnings: Injury, death Request: ... one day the reader messes up badly on a mission and the avengers talk about how the reader let down So the reader quits and the avengers go looking for the reader and finds them and talks about how they’re sorry ...

Real Magic (Avengers X Fem!Reader) Warning: Falling from heights, presumed deaths, dangerous stunts. Request: Peter and The avengers go to a circus they decide to go see a magic show, and tony is totally not buying it. It turns out the reader is the star, and her magic is real. Maybe they try to get her on the team. …

“Did you have to seduce the entire team!?” (Avengers X Fem!Reader) Request: … reader is young and beautiful and starts living in the tower with the avengers and she flirts with all of them just for fun, and all of them think that she is in love with them and at the end they start fighting ... and ask reader which one would she choose finally and she chooses ruce ...

I Don’t Know What I’d Do Without You (Avengers X Fem!Reader) Warnings: Self conscious reader, teasing Request: Can you do a female reader, where she feels as if she isn’t worthy enough to be in the avengers, she feels as if she’s the odd one out. Nat overhears her talking to her friend on the phone about thinking about leaving and she gets the others to convince her she is worthy?

Auntie June Came Early (Male Avengers X Fem!Reader) Warning: Period time~ Request: … reader is in her days and Nat and Wanda are away, and the male avengers got nuts because they think she might be in a lot of pain and overprotect her and dont let her do anything, not even move, and she complain about the pain just once and they all freak out and she thinks is hilarious! ...

Helping (Avengers X Teen!Reader) Warnings: Bulimia, throwing up, bullying, self conscious reader. Request: ... reader is Tony’s daughter (although all of them are protective of her) and she has bulimia and she gets caught purging by one of the team members.

Hello, I’m Pansexual (Avengers X Fem!Reader) Warnings: Mention of homophobia, anxiety. Request: ... reader’s part of the avengers and has powers, but is pan and struggling w how to come out to the team bc she’s scared they’ll kick her off?

Surprise! (Avengers X Reader) Warnings: Sad emotions Request: … reader thinks everyone forgot their birthday but they were just planning a surprise party for them? …

If You Get Killed, Walk It Off. (Avengers X Fem!Reader) Warnings: Grieving, supposed death, explosion, blood, death Request: … reader is in a mission with the avengers and then there is an explossion and the reader was in that building and everybody thinks that she died, and start to cry and remember how they love her, and finally she was ok, and goes with them and ask what happen? …

Help (Avengers X Reader) SERIOUS TRIGGER WARNING: SELF- HARM MENTIONS Request: ... a super angsty self-harm one with avengers.

Where Do Babies Come From? (Avengers X Child!Reader) Warnings: Mild swearing, sex ed talk Request: … reader is the little protect one sister of the avengers (like 12 years old) and she goes around the tower asking the avengers how babies are made. (she doesnt have a mom, so she doesnt know anything) and Tony freaks out because doesnt want her to grow up! …

Phantom (Avengers X Fem!Reader) | Part 2 Request: ... reader’s super badass the team rarely sees her shes like a ninja and according to clint who ever sees her outside missions will have a lucky day (lmao) and like when the teams having movie night shes just like standing behind them in the shadows ...

No Spoilers (Avengers X Reader) | Part 2 | Part 3 Warnings: Spoilers of AOU SET BEFORE AOU Request: ... reader from our universe gets dropped into the avengers.

One Last Goodbye (Avengers X Fem!Reader) Warnings: Death, mourning. Request: … reader died during a mission. Fury give Tony a USB key and told him to watch the video with the rest of the avengers. on the video the reader is talking about how much she loved them and tells each avenger little facts that she loved about them and she thanks them for being her family. …

Birthday Girl (Avengers X Fem!Reader) Request: ... it’s the female readers birthday. She works with the Avengers but aside from that she doesn’t have any friends. She is having a bad birthday, the avengers don’t know. They find out it’s her birthday and surprise her, making it better. …

Welcome to the Family (Avengers X Elf!Reader) Warnings: Mentions of neglect Request: ... reader is half human, half light elf but you were taken from Alfheim and abandoned on earth when the dark elves attacked. (From Thor) The avengers find you and take you in. Thor offers to bring you home but you’ve gotten attached to the human world and decides to stay. You’ve especially gotten attached to Tony cause he treated you like a daughter since you were very young and petite. Smaller then normal elves

Not Your Fault (Avengers X Fem!Teen!Reader) Warnings: Mention of extreme injury, disability, guilt. Request: ... reader is Tony’s teen daughter and she is really good friends with everyone in Team Cap but then during the airport fight she gets hurt and is unable to walk again ... and then when she sees Team Cap again they feel really guilty specially because one of them caused the injury and Natasha feels angry at herself because she was supposed to be her mother figure and look out for her ...

Fitting In (Avengers X Adopted!Reader) Request: ... Tony, being known for his impulsive choices adopts a 14 yr old girl. She’s got the innocent girl next door look but she’s a complete devil. Nat loves her, Clint is afraid of her and Loki, Bucky and Sam are her partners in crime for evil pranks. All is well until she pulls a prank on Bruce and he hulks out. But even Hulk falls under her innocent spell and can’t seem to do anything to her.

Hair Pulling (Avengers X Reader) Warnings: Hair pulling, pulling hair out Request: ... One of the Avengers finds out that the reader has trichotillomania and try’s to help them to stop?

Headaches (Avengers X Reader) Warnings: Spoilers of AoU, Illness, swearing, mention of getting high and drunk Request: The reader is sick all of the time and the avengers are concerned about them, so they have to try and convince the avengers that they’re okay in the long run ...

Killer Cupcakes (Avengers X Fem!Reader) Warnings: Serious illness, near death Request: ... reader is like really sick/hurt and tries to hide it from the other avengers, but they find out and freak bc she almost died ...

The Ultimate Sacrifice (Avengers X Male!Reader) Warnings: Death of character, description of death, mourning Request: ... they’re trapped in a capsized (upside down) cruise ship and the reader ... sacrifices himself to save the group, based on the song My Immortal by Evanescence ...

Animals (Avengers X Fem!Reader) Warnings: Swearing Request: ... reader is sort of spiritually connected with animals or has some sort of connection with animals where they just adore her ... and the avengers ... keep finding random animals around the tower and Tony keeps telling her off for it; secretly everyone finds it amusing and the reader knows this.

I Need My Family (Avengers X Reader) Warnings: Mention of harrassment, assault and swearing Request: ... reader is part time university student - part time Avenger ... and reader somehow gets into some trouble that involves the police, and they try to keep it secret from the others, but Steve finds out and tells Wanda, then they tell the others ...

Other Me (Bucky X Fem!Reader) | *PREQUEL* [Part 2] | Part 3 *Sequel Warnings: Needles, stabbing, blood, death Request: … reader joined the avengers before Bucky. He sees her as sweet, shy and innocent but during missions she’s a complete psycho? After missions its like nothing happened. So he asks Steve about it and he says she’s like that cause before missions they take her off her meds that keep her in check. If she doesn’t have them she’s kinda over the top angry.

Hidden Art (Avengers X Fem!Reader) Request: ... reader is a shy recruit at the Avengers and she doesn’t really talk to anyone and didn’t let anyone in her room, and one day someone walked to her room and found out that she was very good at art ...

Joining The Team Pt 1 (Avengers X Reader) | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 ~Finale Warnings: Blood, Violence, torture Request: ... Avengers x reader fic, really angsty ...

Compromised (Neal Caffrey X Fem!Reader) Warnings: Nat kills someone, violence Request: ... Neal Caffrey (reader’s boyfriend) finds out she’s an Avenger, and the Avengers find out she has a boyfriend? Mozzie is protective of Neal and Nat and Bucky are protective of reader and try to scare Neal into backing off?

I’ll Kill Him (Avengers X Fem!Reader) Warnings: Mentions of Domestic abuse. Request: Reader is the Avenger’s assistant and like a little sister to them, and one day she doesn’t come into work and Bucky goes to her house to make sure she’s OK and finds out she’s in an abusive relationship and helps her.

Where’s Nat? (Avengers X Teen!Reader) Warnings: Blood. Looooots of blood. Request: teen reader has period and goes to avengers for help but Nat isn’t home – Tony is her uncle!

Not alone (Avengers X Reader) SERIOUS WARNING: SELF HARM MENTIONS. Other warnings: Getting shot. Request: Avengers see Reader’s self harm scars and confront her

Overprotective much? (Avengers X Fem!Reader) Warnings: One swear word, threatening, flirting, drinking and attempted murder by an overprotective brother. Request: ... reader is Tony´s sister and she is really beautiful (thats why Tony won´t introduce her) and the avengers are surprised and start bothering Tony and he gots really jealous and protective ...

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