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fairy-writes · 7 months

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Helloo I stumbled across your blog and omg I love everything you have written so far<3 i saw your open requests so I was wondering if you would like to write something for Roland from vnc, like a little scenario of reader (human, civil), who is his crush, wrapping his neck in her scarf when she takes a walk and sees him going on a patrol around Paris in winter without his jacket (he probably forgot it or gave it to someone as a kind person he is).

Write it however you feel comfortable with (or don't), I would prefer reader be female but I don't mind nonbinary.

Thank you for your time, drink some water and have a nice day/night <3

DANCING SNOW

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

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Fandom(s): The Case Study of Vanitas

Pairing(s): Roland Fortis x Reader

Word Count: 0.9k

Genre(s)/Tag(s): Female!Reader, FLUFF, Reader is implied to be smaller than Roland

Notes: Thanks for liking what I have written so far! I love writing for Roland!

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The snow was gentle. Falling from the sky and dancing through the air like ballerinas. You bury your nose in your scarf and tug on your gloves as you walk through the streets of Paris.

Why you had decided to go on a walk in this weather was a mystery. Even to you. But you were a good twenty minutes from home, so you might as well deal with the cold and continue on your way. You’d get back to your home eventually.

All of a sudden, you hear your name and turn. You know this voice. And already, your ears are beginning to heat up.

Roland.

Without his coat.

He’s jogging over, dressed in nothing but his button-down and trousers, boots heavy against the cobblestone. His weapon is strapped to his back via a holster of sorts and looks none too comfortable. He’s waving enthusiastically, and people are staring.

“Where’s your coat?” Is the first thing out of your mouth when he is within speaking (not shouting) distance. He slows to a halt in front of you and grins,

“I forgot it. I was in a rush this morning and didn’t think to put it on.” He says smoothly, and you roll your eyes.

“Sure you did.” Now he looks hurt,

“I did!”

You huff and turn away, but Roland follows along, chattering happily about something or other. But you can tell he’s shivering. Durandal is rattling in his holster, and you can’t help but feel bad.

But he wouldn’t fit in your coat. But you also didn’t want him to get too cold.

So you stop.

He stops, confusion, decorating his handsome features like Christmas tree lights. You unwrap your scarf from around your neck. It’s chilly, but you’re on a mission. You reach up and wrap it carefully around Roland’s neck. He freezes and watches you with wide green eyes. Once the long article of clothing is snuggly wrapped around Roland, you step back with a sheepish grin.

“I can’t have you freezing on me now, can I?” You tease in an attempt to lighten the tension between you two.

Why is it so tense?

Roland seems to snap out of whatever stupor he’s in, and his brilliant grin lights up your world.

You want to kiss him. Badly.

All of a sudden, Roland’s name is called, and the two of you jump away simultaneously. Had he been leaning in?

No…

That’s preposterous!

He wouldn’t feel like that toward you.

You spot Olivier scowling as he makes his way through the thin crowd. At least he had the decency to wear a coat in the snow. The white flakes stand out brilliantly against his black hair.

“Olivier! You found me!” Roland exclaimed, and the other Paladin pinched the bridge of his nose.

“No thanks to you.” He muttered and grabbed the back of the scarf, and proceeded to haul Roland away with a gruff “We have to finish patrolling this sector.”

You stand dumbfounded as Roland waves a happy goodbye, chattering about something you can’t hear, and you can practically see Olivier deflate in annoyance.

But, ultimately, your neck is cold, and you decide to head home finally.

Only for Roland to show up on your doorstep several hours later, scarf in hand.

“Thank you! I would have frozen to death without this!” He says dramatically as you open the door and you smile,

“Now you’re just being dramatic.” You tease him, and he laughs jubilantly. It makes your heart flutter.

It doesn’t take long for Roland to make himself at home inside your humble little abode. Durandal is leaning up against the corner of your doorway. His shoes are placed neatly by yours. Roland is playfully hip-checking you in the kitchen as you get mugs of hot cocoa ready. The room is filled with laughter as you do it right back.

On one particular attempt, you nearly slip in your socks, and he grabs your hips to steady you. There’s nothing in your hands, so you grip the fabric of his button-down to make sure you don’t fall over. He’s watching you with an expression you can’t quite place, and you simply stare up at your best friend. You are close enough that you can count the freckles on his cheeks.

You really want to kiss him.

And almost as if he’s reading your mind, Roland leans down and presses the most gentle kiss you could imagine to your lips. You respond almost too eagerly, pulling him closer by the collar of his shirt as he pushes you back against the counter. His strong hands trail until they are holding the small of your back. His lips are still cold from being out in the frigid air, but you don’t mind.

You don’t stop moving your lips against Roland’s until you have to break for air. When you do, he’s looking at you with what you realize is love.

“Perhaps I should forget my coat more often.” He quips, and all you can do is laugh and pull him in for another kiss.

#roland x reader #roland fortis x reader #vnc x reader #vanitas no carte x reader #the case study of vanitas x reader #vnc roland x reader #vnc roland #vnc #vanitas no carte #the case study of vanitas #fairy writes

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darsynia · 1 year

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Trust Fall | Ch5

ARC reactor image by Eury Escodero || screencap by 'neverfeltbetter' on wordpress || My MASTERLIST

Story Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Summary: Tony/OC, 'terrorists made us fall in love;' IM1 timeline. In this chapter, Emory Autumn's ruse is discovered, and Tony relies on his reputation as a womanizer to request that he be allowed to 'keep' her as a 'distraction.'

Length: 4,774

I’m shy as hell about saying this but if anyone wants to be tagged or ask me to write something please do! Tags: @starryeyes2000 @raith-way @arrthurpendragon

Excerpt:

“How does he know you’re not simply doing this to save her life?”

Tony drops his hand to Autumn’s ass and pulls her tight to his hip. With one final gentle swipe of his thumb on her neck, he takes a handful of her hair and pulls, dragging her head back to look up at him. Her eyes are wild, frightened, hopeful. One of her hands is clutching a handful of his shirt material at his back.

“I’m a weapons manufacturer,” Tony says, his eyes on Autumn. “I’m not known for my altruism. I am known for my women.” He dips his head down and, holding her still with the hand gripping her hair, Tony kisses her roughly. It’s for show, and he shows, forcing her mouth open and sweeping his tongue in. Autumn is clearly shocked, her hand coming up to rest on his chest, right on the magnet apparatus, before snatching it back.

Chapter Five: 01010011 01110101 01101110 01101100 01101001 01100111 01101000 01110100

Over the course of the next few days, Emory, Yinsen, and Stark collect palladium from the missiles they take apart. She’s good at unscrewing the tail pieces without having to move the missile, if it’s hanging over the edge of the table a bit. It doesn’t hurt her back, as she doesn’t have to lean over quite as far as they would. Stark says he likes that the deconstruction leaves quite a few pieces lying around, innards of the missiles, housings, various parts, all of which look like he’s actually working on what he’s supposed to.

He… won’t tell either of them what he’s actually doing, though. Stark has implied more than once that whatever it is will result in him being freed from having to carry around the battery, but Emory can’t imagine what that could possibly be.

Though, if he’s collecting palladium, he’s probably right. Emory doesn’t know anything about engineering or physics, but it sounds like a scary enough material that could be used to power something.

Today Yinsen is using their cooking and heating fire to warm up a smelting cup with the palladium flakes inside it. He’s clearly done something to make it stronger than usual, because it’s warm in the cave. Stark’s down to the white shirt she’d given him, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. She’s sitting at their dining table with Childhood’s End, but she’s really watching Stark.

He’s got a bowl with some sort of thick, loamy material in it, and he’s packing a smaller bowl with the stuff. The way the muscles of his arms move and the precise gestures of his hands have her captivated. Hands are her secret weakness, and Emory had managed to avoid thinking about Stark’s hands mostly because he’d been wearing fingerless gloves so often. Today, though, he’s bunching them in the sand, pressing some into a smaller bowl with his palms, holding a measuring device steady and tapping it to sink down and make an impression. He is making an impression. On her. Emory tries in vain to remember where she was in her book, but it’s hopeless.

The best she can do is firmly instruct herself to avoid picturing him touching her.

Yinsen signals that he’s ready to pour the palladium, and Stark hovers nearby, not close enough to bump him.

“Careful. We only get one shot at this,” he says, the battery held over his shoulder and out of the way.

“Relax, I have steady hands. Why do you think you’re still alive, huh?”

Yinsen pours the molten palladium with the steady hands he promised, and Stark looks visibly relieved when he lifts the smelting cup again. As soon as Yinsen sets the cup down near the fire to cool, though, there’s a noise at the door.

Stark grabs his beanie and arranges it over the bowl, covering their day’s work.

The bearded terrorist comes into the room with a lot more energy than normal, and with far less enthusiasm. He seems very upset, and he’s carrying a magazine. Accompanying him are ten men with machine guns. Emory sucks in a breath, full of fear and comprehension: this is it. He knows she’s not Rory.

Sure enough, he holds up the magazine and snaps something angrily at Yinsen.

“He says you are not the woman in the picture,” Yinsen says, his voice shaking slightly.

“Can I see it?” she asks. She has to repeat herself, because the first words come out so quiet and choked that Yinsen shakes his head, uncomprehending. Out of the corner of her eye, Emory sees Stark grab his battery and come to stand a few feet behind her.

The terrorist shakes the magazine and stomps over, thrusting it towards her. He points with a pudgy finger at a picture of Rory at a gala event five months before. She’s obviously a different person from Emory, not just because of height, but body shape and facial features. There’s no fudging her identity. Emory examines the picture, hoping for some kind of reprieve. In the back of the image, behind Rory, she recognizes the dress she had been wearing to the event.

“I’m in this picture,” she says. Behind her, Stark lets out a small grunt.

There’s nothing he can do. Tony holds the battery with one hand at his side and watches as Autumn points to something he can’t see in the image their captor is holding out. Her attitude is bound to make the man more angry, and he lets out a small sound in warning.

He’s running through options in his mind and coming up with completely nothing. The very best he could do is threaten to set off the missiles, but that would likely save no one and result in all three of their deaths, with the possible ‘upside’ that some of the terrorists may also die. With the stacked up missiles, Tony wouldn’t be able to dodge around to take the main guy hostage, but Yinsen has already said that there’s a separate leader from the spokesman they’ve interacted with so often.

They’d probably just write the guy off and shoot everyone.

“I grew up with Rory. We’re close. She would pay a ransom to get me back. Just because I’m not Rory Fall doesn’t mean I’m not valuable!” Autumn is saying, now.

Yinsen’s tone as he translates is placating but desperate. The look on the terrorist’s face is not encouraging.

“He says you are not worth the cost of food,” Yinsen says, his tone impersonal but his expression frightened.

“So give me a hunk of bread and a water bottle and set me loose,” she argues, holding her clasped hands in front of her, begging. “No one will bring an army to revenge itself for me even if I did survive, and chances are high I’ll just die in the desert. There’s no downside.”

With a savage backhand, the terrorist hits her on the side of the head, and Autumn lands on her side on the floor in front of Tony. The suddenness of the violence is shocking. If he can’t think of something, they’re going to kill her. He drops the battery on the floor beside her and drags Autumn up against him, cradling her against his arm to keep her from pulling on the wires. She’s shaking.

“Do not give orders to men,” Yinsen translates, horror in his tone. The terrorist screams at Tony, and Tony meets his gaze unflinchingly. “This doesn’t concern you, Stark,” Yinsen adds. “Imagine your own insults, I don’t wish to repeat them.”

“It does concern me,” Tony says, resting a gentle hand against Autumn’s neck. Her whole body is trembling as he addresses the terrorist, trying to adopt an arrogant tone. She won’t appreciate this very much if it works, but she’ll be alive. “You want me to build your Jericho? Give her to me. I work better when I’m… relaxed,” he says, shrugging with as much casual innuendo as he can.

Against him, Autumn’s frozen still. He brushes his thumb against her neck just once, hoping she’ll remember his hand squeeze outside in the sunlight and take courage.

Yinsen is frozen as well.

“Tell him,” Tony orders. “It’s what we’ve got. My reputation’s good for something, who knew?”

Yinsen starts speaking. Tony holds his body completely rigid, projecting as much confidence and arrogance as he can. He looks down at Autumn, obviously and demonstrably ogling where his hand bunches up her shirt. The pants she’s wearing hang low on her hips, revealing the bare skin of her lower back and just below. He raises his gaze back to the terrorist’s, who is giving him a knowing look that Tony forces himself to smile in response to. There’s a camaraderie there that makes him sick.

The man’s face falls, and he speaks.

“How does he know you’re not simply doing this to save her life?”

He knows he needs to make it look real, his desire and her reluctance, to sell the farce that he’s going to use her like he’d implied he would. The desire part is not a problem, as it turns out. She’s warm, her lips lush, and her height accentuates her vulnerability to him, which is a turn-on for him, always has been. Tony likes being in charge, feeling powerful, and she’s ticking all of those boxes. He angles the leg she’s pinned against, pressing it between her legs in a way that the demon who’s holding them captive can see. The kiss is filthy and wet, and when Tony sucks on her bottom lip to redden it, she lets out a whimper that everyone in the cave can hear.

When Tony lifts his head, Autumn sags against him, burying her face in his side, clearly mortified.

The terrorist mutters something and stomps toward the door, making a harsh gesture to the men with guns. He throws the magazine on the ground at Yinsen’s feet.

“Very well. She’s yours,” Yinsen translates in a hoarse whisper.

The sound of the doors closing has a ring of terrible finality to it, as though Tony’s made some kind of irrevocable choice. He probably has.

He loosens his grip on Autumn slowly, because she’s clinging to him as if nothing else will support her weight.

“I panicked. All I could think of,” he says.

Autumn lets out a shuddered breath. She pulls back just a bit, as if testing her strength, and then does the most amazing thing. With a gentle hand, she reaches up, looking at him, and wordlessly touches his face with her cupped hand.

Seconds later she turns and walks over to her cot, climbing up into it and drawing the blanket over her shoulders.

“Life is life,” Yinsen observes quietly. “I could not think of what to do. Thank you.”

“Don’t,” Tony says grimly. “I’ve just flipped a switch in their minds. A dangerous one.”

“True,” Yinsen says. “You’ll need to be careful to maintain interest. Something tells me you won’t have to worry about that, will you?”

Tony takes that moment to pick up his battery, rather than make any attempt at meeting Yinsen’s eyes. The man is perceptive, and it wouldn’t take much talent in reading people to see what is going on in Tony’s mind. He probably can already tell.

Even under those circumstances, Tony had enjoyed that kiss. He would get to enjoy more of them, almost certainly. What kind of a person did that make him? It wasn’t heroic, that was certain. Even if he had saved her life, the ratio of altruism to lust was disproportionate to the latter.

He walks over and carefully removes the beanie, knowing that it’ll take longer to cool than he’d originally intended. Tony starts gathering up the wiring and vise he’ll need to hold the whole apparatus while he solders the fucking hell out of it. There are a few things missing, and that’s when he remembers.

They’re under Autumn’s cot.

Instead of disturbing her, he sits down and tries to clear his mind. Unfortunately, ever since she’d been asked to sing, Autumn’s voice has been playing in his head on repeat, especially the part about the wind like her hands in his hair. The sound of her voice was a complete shock to his system, raspy and low, sultry and sweet. Tony’s spent enough time in the LA party scene to understand why a recording company might have wanted to go with the tall, athletic, weak singer with charisma and stage presence over her shorter, more talented friend. It’s a matter of marketing, but if it had been a matter of quality, Autumn would have been by far the superior choice.

Beyond what she sounded like was the impact of the lyrics. He doesn’t think she chose the song to specifically target him, but they’re damning enough, after their conversation about intimacy. Tony’s never been in a relationship longer than a few months at a time (they certainly weren’t monogamous), and none of his brief flings with the odd cute barista or waitress have resulted in that feeling of cross-social strata longing described in the song. His arrangement with Pepper and JARVIS usually prevents any of those situations from escalating into something more anyway.

Since her comment about kissing, though, he had gone back over his mental black book, trying to pinpoint any of the women he might have considered candidates for that kind of long-term connection. Tony was forced to conclude that his attitude at the beginning of his time with most of the women informs his attitude about the longevity of their association.

He doesn’t pick women that he wants to spend days kissing. Tony picks women to fuck.

Now, though, all he can think about is kissing Autumn. If he’d met her at some event and decided to try to coax her into bed, he would have been plotting what sort of sexual activities he’d engage with her-- but now? Now there’s a charade to perpetuate, a simulation to plan, and that means he can look forward to kissing her in a way he wouldn’t have in his regular life.

The thing he secretly enjoys so much is now the only thing he can have, in good conscience, even though Tony shouldn’t get to have anything, not in this cave, not with a woman who is almost certainly reluctant.

It’s a mess, one he feels more than a little bit guilty for causing, despite the alternative. For one of the first times in Tony Stark’s life, he feels shame in his selfishness. He can usually rationalize it away, but this time, even the fact that she could have died otherwise still doesn’t feel like enough to balance this out. It’s uncomfortable as fuck.

The book is across the room, and Emory is afraid to move, even though it’s very warm under the blanket. She doesn’t want any more scrutiny, particularly not from Stark, right now.

He’d saved her. She was massively grateful. She was also conflicted. Tony Stark was exactly the sort of man she’d always been warned against. Selfish, narcissistic, pleasure-seeking. But he was also handsome, strong (an attribute she hadn’t known she liked so much until he’d held her up when she was practically falling down, and hadn’t even seemed like it was an effort), and his kiss had taken her apart. Her lips still burn from his facial hair and the force with which he’d demanded her response.

Emory can’t help but admit to herself that she’d liked it. She groans with embarrassment, covering her face with her hands.

That tiny movement of his thumb to reassure her had touched her somewhere sweet and hidden, too. It had been kind, something she would never have pictured coming from the wealthy CEO.

What a mess!

She covers her head with the blanket and gets up, hoping to rush over to the table, get Yinsen’s book, and rush back. When Emory grabs the book, though, she turns around and almost runs straight into Stark.

His expression is somber, but he flicks his eyes up toward the camera as he sets down the battery on the table. With a chastising look, Stark takes the blanket off of her completely, pulling her hair from where it was twisted up and tucked into her shirt in a bid to cool off earlier. With no idea how much she is affected by what he’s doing, he runs his fingers through her hair multiple times, laying it out along her shoulders. Of course, she realizes. She’s not supposed to let it be covered up.

Emory’s already keyed up from her near-death experience and the half-traumatic discovery that she really likes this man’s mouth on hers. So when he leans over as if to kiss her, she backs away, out of his reach. He’s experienced. He’ll be able to tell. She’s not sure she could bear that.

“I can almost guarantee they’re watching. If you resist, they’ll expect me to demand more,” he says in a near-whisper. “Unless you’re doing it for the cameras?” Stark shoots his eyebrows up for a second, before pointing at the floor at his feet.

“Of course,” Emory lies. She looks down as if contrite and walks back to him.

Stark lifts a handful of her hair and smells it. There’s something so arresting about that action, something so intimate, that she steadies herself with a hand at the nearby table. It’s for the cameras, she’s sure, but it feels authentic enough to her.

“So are you really afraid, or just very good at faking?” he asks.

“Terrified,” she whispers. She is. Emory is afraid he’ll look at her and know she wants him, and he’ll use it to judge her against every single woman he’s ever slept with, every woman that begged him to use his hands on her.

Stark moves to stand just a breath away, his hand sliding into the hair at the nape of her neck. It’s still a little sore from him yanking it not a half hour before. “There are ways of faking this, positions they use on film, but I don’t know the angle of their cameras, and--”

“And you like kissing,” she says with a tiny, wry smile, staring at the bulge on his chest from the magnet apparatus. Emory risks a quick glance up at his face to see his reaction. His brown eyes are dark with obvious desire, which jolts straight to her core. She hadn’t expected that, despite her words.

“Not the unwilling,” he says. He sounds upset.

“Is any woman truly unwilling when it comes to you?” she asks, hiding her shock at what she’d seen in his expression.

There’s a scraping sound at the door that startles her, but when she startles and pulls back, Stark’s hand stops her, wound as it is into her hair.

“Peephole,” Yinsen says from where he’s examining the smelting cup.

A voice shouts something in an unrecognizable language from outside the door, and the scraping sound recurs.

“I’m not repeating that,” Yinsen says. He sounds scandalized.

Stark’s looking at Yinsen, but Emory’s slowly catching fire where she’s standing there waiting for him to decide what to do with her. She feels like she’s watching a musical where her favorite piece of music is a precursor to her favorite character’s death, and the sweetness of the thing she’s anticipating will be followed by something dreadful.

“Do it or let me go, Stark,” Emory hisses at him.

“That’s enough consent for me,” he says, using his free hand to tip her head back with a rough hand at her chin. Stark slips his thumb up to pull her mouth open, letting go and tracing his tongue against where he’d pressed, scraping his teeth against it gently. Emory drifts toward him, unable to help herself. He’s skilled and devastating as he chases her tongue with his to stroke it. Overcome, she grabs at his shirt to steady herself, and he lets go of her hair to catch her hand before she pulls on the wires. Without Stark’s hand at the back of her head to stop her, Emory can tear herself away. She grabs the book she’d come for in the first place and holds it to her chest like it’s a stack of schoolbooks instead of a tiny paperback.

He points at her bed with a large gesture that is obviously meant for the cameras. “Go, get out of here, I have work to do,” Stark says, but his eyes are narrowed. “Careful,” he whispers. “They won’t like to see you resisting.”

“Instinct,” she lies to him for the second time that day. Her instinct had been to throw herself wholeheartedly into that kiss. She almost had.

After ten minutes Emory realizes her blanket is still over where Stark had taken it from her, but she doesn’t venture back into that part of the room. Let the men monitoring their room think he was punishing her.

That’s not quite the case, though. She’s punishing herself.

Emory wakes up covered in the blanket.

She’d had strange dreams, not at all what she’d expected, the night before. None of them stick with her, but she assumes they’re based on the chapters of the book she’d read. Emory often feels a kinship with the authors she’s reading, understanding and approving of their visions for their stories. Her mother had always said it was a function of her oversized amount of empathy, her loyalty for the intentions of the author-- but she doesn’t like the world that is described as a utopia in Childhood’s End. Though, possibly that is author-intended.

The idea that there would be no religion to divide people, and that bad leaders would be driven mad… both of those things seem like something Yinsen perhaps appreciated about the book. Emory doesn’t feel a kinship with any of the characters as she usually does, but that might be because everything in the story feels like she’s watching from afar, waiting for something horrible to happen.

As opposed to watching what’s happening in our cave, close-up, waiting for something horrible to happen! she thinks to herself.

Though, the horrible thing hadn’t happened, thanks to Stark. She still needs to thank him, but Emory’s having trouble even looking at him right now. Despite it being the truth, she regrets having essentially dared the man to find someone to kiss so he could appreciate how much more enjoyable it is to do with a person you genuinely care for. She can sense that kissing him is deeply enjoyable, and the implications of that are just too much for her right now.

To evict Stark from her mind, Emory thinks about what Rory might be doing at that moment. Over the past few days she’s tried to push those thoughts away, knowing that dwelling on what her friend was going through wouldn’t do her anything but cause distress. Days after the kidnapping, though, now that the terrorists know she’s not Rory, Emory can’t help but wonder how things are going without her.

Rory would undoubtedly be a mess, but was she able to fly home? Or was she lying on a bed in a hotel in Kabul with Hank at her side? Did anyone know to get the rest of her favorite candy out of Emory’s luggage? It’s kind of freaking her out just picturing how frantic everyone must have been when they realized Emory wouldn’t be there to help smooth out Rory’s rough edges.

Emory’s struck by a horrible realization: she’s coddled Rory so much that it’s quite possible her friend is doing far worse without her than she would be if Emory been more harsh and truthful with her from the beginning.

Sure, Rory’s been selfish and cruel to her for a while now, but how much of that is just a result of letting her stagnate in her own poor behavior, secure in the knowledge that Emory would get her out of any problem? It was just flat-out easier that way. And now look where it’s gotten them!

“Fuck,” Emory says, pulling her pillow out from under her head and pressing it to her face. It smells terrible; she’d never remembered to put the pillowcase back on it, and Stark had taken it to carry something around with.

“Are you in pain?”

Yinsen’s voice is very close, and Emory cringes. “I didn’t mean to swear,” she apologizes, pulling the pillow back off of her face.

“I’m not offended, do not concern yourself,” he reassures her. “You have slept longer than normal, and hearing your epithet, I wanted to be sure you weren’t injured.”

“I stayed up reading,” she admits, sitting up in bed. “I’m to the place where the man who is bored by the utopia described by the book hides inside a model of a whale to travel to the alien overlords’ home planet. I can’t believe how miserable this utopia has been described, how the overlords imply that humanity would be terrified and dumbstruck by advanced technology! As someone who loves music and artistic expression, I find it very hard to believe that art would narrow if we were given a chance to live in leisure, without the need for hard labor. As a scientist, do you agree? Do you think our more advanced society in 2009 is as prone to being frightened by the knowledge of an advanced alien race?”

The look on Yinsen’s face could most accurately be described as bemused. “I am glad you’re so engaged by it. I agree that a utopia without violence being one where art and advancement suffers is a confusing one. Though I think the author wanted most to convey the idea that humanity was unhappy and unfulfilled, in preparation for some large leap in understanding, and that was the way he imagined to go about it.”

“That makes sense,” Emory says. “I usually don’t read radically changed society stories, so I don’t have a basis for comparison, I guess.”

“You don’t read them, but you’ve experienced one, haven’t you? Is this not radically different than your regular life?” Yinsen asks.

“Well… I mean, it’s temporary, isn’t it?” she says, a little shocked at how subtly confrontational the man’s question was. She pictures a meme screen, a bright colored background with an attractive font saying something like, ‘I didn’t ask to be called out like this!’

“Perhaps for you, but the people holding us have a life vastly different from yours, from Stark’s. Different enough to be a culture shock, one to the other. When I wasn’t in this place, I straddled that line in some ways, as a scientist.” He looks down at his clothing and offers her a sad smile. “I had just returned from a conference, my garment bag still hanging by the door. Perhaps this is punishment for being like that young man in the story. My metaphorical flights to the overlord’s planet have drawn the anger of the citizens I left behind.”

Emory’s speechless. “I’m sorry,” she offers.

“Me too,” he says.

“Thank you for giving me the blanket, by the way.”

Yinsen pauses in the process of walking away. “It was mostly Stark. He tripped on the blanket, brought it over to set it beside your bed. You were asleep.” He looks over to where Stark is leaning over his worktable, shuffling what looks like a dozen thin sheets of paper. “I told him there is more than one way to protect you than the one he volunteered for.”

Before Emory can respond to that, he walks back to the cook fire and stirs the day’s meal. There’s probably a metaphor for the vast ocean between her overly permissive behavior towards Rory and Stark’s barely there approach, but she would probably rather climb into his smelting cup and roast herself before she tried to figure out how to articulate it.

Twenty minutes later, Yinsen calls her over to eat. Stark stays at his table, his ruler and pencil moving like the wind across yet another sheet of paper. He waves off both of their suggestions to eat.

Emory picks up Childhood’s End again, but sets it back down in an hour. The main characters have become dissatisfied with their imposed utopia, and have moved to an island designed by someone who wants to resist the Overlords’ influence. They’re planning to live their lives in defiance of the Overlords who are essentially holding humanity hostage, rejecting their orders to live a different life.

It’s just a bit too much for her, given the fact that Stark has made clear he isn’t building what he’s been ordered to.

Next chapter, Tony realizes that a situation where he's practically required to kiss this woman to keep her alive is a blessing and a curse-- because he really, really likes it.

#tony stark #tony stark fanfiction #tony stark x oc #tony stark x original character #iron man fanfiction #iron man #iron man x oc #iron man x original character #mcu #mcu fanfiction #mcu fanfic #marvel #marvel fanfic #tony stark imagine #series: autonomy #ocfairygodmother #fyeahsuperverseocs

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xxxangeleyesxxx · 1 year

Text

Born to Die

OOC - a reply to this Trigger Warning - Blood

The tip of the knife chilled against her throat. A drop of her dark blood just barely dripped down onto it, tainting the fine craftsmanship. The beautifully carved and engraved steel gleamed in the moonlight, reflecting the stars and the fear in her wide blue eyes… but that wasn’t what had her attention. It was him.

He was so pale he glowed in the moonlight, his skin such a flawless perfection that Nina couldn’t even see his pores. His eyes were like diamonds, shining like sparkles in the cold fluorescence. He was beautiful, more beautiful than a vast majority of women Nina had seen, probably even more beautiful than her. The white curtains almost fully encased him, flowing around him like wings. Nina shouldn’t have kept the window open tonight, but it was too warm in her room for her to sleep, and she was stupid.

After what had to have been a few minutes in this position, Nina got impatient. Was he or wasn’t he going to kill her? Was she not his target? God, she hoped she was his target!

She was afraid to speak because his blade was itching dangerously close to her already bleeding and abused larynx, but she did anyway. “Y-You’re going to kill me aren’t you? Why are y-you prolonging this?”

This must have struck a nerve, because he pushed her back all the way into the opposite wall. Nina almost tripped on her feet, but caught herself not even a half-second into it. If she did, she would fall into the knife and die, no doubt about it. Surprising Nina even more than she already had been, the man looked, almost confused as well?

It was easier for her to see him now. He pressed the side of his blade into her neck with his covered thumb. His eyes were narrow and sharp, like a shark, but they were far more wide than they had been a second ago.

A drop of sweat fell down Nina’s face. She gulped. Down the hallway across her room was where most of the children slept. Was he after them? She had to protect them…

“If you’re going to kill me, then-then do it.” She closed her eyes and took it in. “I’m ready. Just-don’t hurt any of them, please! I don’t know what you want or why someone would send you, but please,” she didn’t cry, she felt like she was going to, but she couldn’t. Not ever since her other half was taken away from her. She had already cried enough for one lifetime that day… “Don’t hurt them, they are just little kids. Kill me, and be done with it.”

The blade held against her neck ever so slightly drew back, and that was all that Nina needed. Her eyes flew open. She grabbed the dagger and wrestled it out of his hand, pushing him back as she did so. Her hands were bleeding everywhere, but she hardly noticed thanks to the adrenaline coursing through her veins. The blood ended up working in her favor, since he was wearing leather gloves and therefore had a less-than-ideal grip on his blade, allowing Nina to wring it out of his hands. She couldn’t believe she was actually ready to die right then.

She breathed heavily, holding the knife in between his eyes. “Who sent you?! Who wants to hurt us?”She was shaking like crazy. The man’s bewildered stare wasn’t helping any. She never particularly liked seeing people in pain, even those who hurt her. “Who are y-“

His eyes were gentle, confused, pleading, and longing. She recognized those eyes. They were the same eyes that laughed at her naïveté and cried over her wounds. This was the same face that stared back at her in the mirror, only with a slightly masculine touch. Was this the same boy who she lost 15 years ago? They were only 6… it couldn’t be.

She used the dull end of the blade to flick his light bangs away from his left ear. There, underneath it, was the scar she accidentally gave him when they were little kids. A mark from when they were playing and she threw a rock at his head. It was smaller and noticeably fading… but it was there. She used to kiss it when they went to sleep.

“Johan… is that you?”

#reply to Anon ask #we threading it!#I’m really excited I’ve always wanted to do a AOT/Monster Au #AOT au #anna liebert #theartifxce #johan liebert #johan and anna #nina fortner rp #naoki urasawa's monster #johan x anna

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ali-annals · 3 months

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summer's a knife (it's a cruel summer)

Pairing: Jason Todd x Marinette Dupain-Cheng

A/N: This is part of a series called The Eras Tour (Jasonette’s Version), a collection of Jasonette-centric fics I wrote for the Maribat discord server Maribat? Get In!’s 2024 Civil War event. Not beta’d.

“So, wanna tell me what happened that you’re halfway to swiss cheese?” “Not really.” “Fair enough.” She peered at the wound. “You’re lucky–seems you shouldn’t need stitches.” “Oh goodie,” he deadpanned. “Want to tell me why you’re in a place like this, then?” “Awfully chatty for a nurse, aren’t you?” “Awfully grumpy for someone getting free healthcare, aren’t you? Besides, you seem like you’d grumble about my lack of bedside manner if I didn’t talk. Excuse me if I can only think about things related to what I’m currently doing.” To her surprise, he threw his head back with a laugh. “I like you.”

The neon lights of the vending machine cast a colourful glow on the person in front of it, probably a male based on height and body type. His face was covered by the red hoodie he was wearing, but Marinette could tell he was aware of her presence behind him.

Something was off about him. He’d immediately shifted to a defensive stance when he sensed her behind him (it was very rare for someone to notice her when she’d been walking as softly as she had been), there was an awfully clean rip through the side of his hoodie–almost as if it had been made with a knife, and he was almost going out of his way to appear unsuspicious–which was of course the most suspicious thing.

“Are you going to buy anything?” she asked, moving a little closer.

His head turned and she made out dark hair and a strong jawline, teal eyes glowing from the depths of the hooded shadows.

“Go ahead.” He shuffled out of the way.

His voice was a little raspy, but she liked it. He turned on his heel, obviously about to leave, but paused when her voice reached him.

“Wait.”

He waited, something she hadn’t actually expected him to do.

“You look hurt. I’ve got first-aid training, if you want help.”

Those glowing teal eyes met hers, sizing her up as a predator might. She felt judged, but not unsafe, something that should have been strange, given their size difference and the general aura of danger that he exuded.

“Why?” he asked.

“Why not?” she returned. “I have the ability to help someone who looks like they need it. Side wounds are a pain in…well, the literal side to deal with. It’s awkward. And we’ll likely never cross paths once we check out of this skeevy motel; we’re obviously here because we can keep secrets.”

A small smile cracked the lower half of his face.

“If you’re so insistent on helping, be my guest,” he shrugged. “My room’s just down the hall.”

~~~

“I don’t usually go to men’s rooms without even knowing their names, but I’ll make an exception tonight, I guess,” she joked, sensing his nervousness.

Which she found strange–what did he have to be nervous about? Sure, he was wounded, but she was way smaller than him and as far as he knew posed no threat to him; their roles should be reversed. She’d retrieved the first-aid kit from her room, one she’d packed herself before she went on the run.

He half-sat, half-collapsed on the creaky twin bed, a foot too short for his tall frame, while she removed her rings and placed them in her bag, washed her hands, and laid out what she thought she’d need.

“Shirt off, please.” She sat on the edge of the bed, beside him, rolling up her hoodie sleeves.

“Awfully forward to guys you don’t know,” he snarked, pulling the hoodie off, revealing a stained white t-shirt that he pulled off one-handed. She really envied that guys could do that.

“Like I said, you’re an exception,” she retorted primly, snapping the wrist of the glove against her skin. “Ooh, that looks painful.”

He hissed as she prodded carefully at the slowly bleeding stab wound just under his ribcage. “Ow!”

“You can call me Mari, if you decide to curse me out in a minute,” she informed him, using his already-ruined t-shirt to wipe away the worst of the blood, which was already crusting over in places.

“You can call me Jay,” he offered in return.

“So, wanna tell me what happened that you’re halfway to swiss cheese?”

“Not really.”

“Fair enough.” She peered at the wound. “You’re lucky–seems you shouldn’t need stitches.”

“Oh goodie,” he deadpanned.

“Want to tell me why you’re in a place like this, then?”

“Awfully chatty for a nurse, aren’t you?”

“Awfully grumpy for someone getting free healthcare, aren’t you? Besides, you seem like you’d grumble about my lack of bedside manner if I didn’t talk. Excuse me if I can only think about things related to what I’m currently doing.”

To her surprise, he threw his head back with a laugh. “I like you.”

She tapped the adhesive of the bandage down gently. “I’m still waiting for an answer.”

“You sound like my father,” he groaned, covering his face with his forearm. It was a very nice forearm, and the pose really showed off his non-bloodied muscles. It wasn’t a bad view at all.

With a sigh he answered. “I came here looking for a friend. They’d told me they knew something about a thing that could fix something that I have. I couldn’t find my friend at the spot we agreed to meet up, so I went out looking, and then I got attacked.”

“Wow, so specific,” she said dryly, gathering up her things. “I guess that’s safer.”

“You have no idea. Care to share why you’re here? Let me guess…secret lover?”

She snorted, balling up her gloves and tossing them neatly into the garbage can across the room. “No. I don’t do romance anymore, and I have standards, anyways. If I have to sneak around to meet him…big nope from me.”

“Then…you’re on the run from your billionaire father who’s threatened to marry you off to an acquaintance for his business?”

She laughed outright at that, unrolling her hoodie sleeves until they hung at her wrists again and slid on her rings. “Do they do that in this day and age? No, my dad’s a baker, not a billionaire. I’m here because I’m hiding from a group of magical ninjas after me for my jewelry.” She laughed, flashing her beringed hands in his face.

His hand grasped her wrist, observing the silver bands circling her fingers. His touch was warm, gentle, the rough calluses on his fingers providing a strange stimulation that headed straight to her nerves, but his eyes were sharp, wary as he scanned the metal.

“Thank you for looking after me,” he said sincerely, gaze meeting her own.

She remembered to take a breath. “You’re welcome. I’m glad it wasn’t worse. It seems like you’ve experience with injuries of this style, so I’ll assume you know how to take care.”

He grinned ruefully down at his scarred arms and torso. “Yeah, I’ve got it.”

“Great,” she said briskly, dusting off her jeans as she stood up, snapping her kit closed. “Stay safe out there, and I hope you find your friend okay.”

“You’re just leaving?”

“Yep. I’ve done what I can.”

She thought he’d protest, but he only waved. “Thank you. Take care of yourself.”

“Don’t worry about me,” she smiled, stepping out of the room. She heard the click of the automatic lock and leaned against it with a sigh.

It was dangerous, but she was going to stick around here a little longer. She had to, for his sake.

~~~

Noire slipped into the shadows as Jay slipped out of his motel window. He wore a black t-shirt instead of his old white one, but still wore the charcoal-grey cargo pants from that evening.

The last ultramarine tinges of the sunset lingered in the sky, providing just enough light for Noire’s enhanced eyesight to track Jay’s path from the window to the ground, to the streets behind the motel.

Noire easily ran over the rooftops as he made his way through the winding streets of the city, probably looking for that friend he’d mentioned. So much for resting like he should after that wound, but going by the number of scars she’d counted on him, he didn’t live the most restful life. He talked to the girls on the street, a couple street kids that hadn’t hidden at his approach, and one abuela closing up her restaurant for the evening. They didn’t appear to give him anything.

He seemed to sense someone was following him, often turning as if to catch them in the act, or taking deliberately obscure paths that only a stalker would follow him through.

She’d gradually grown closer as the night deepened and the shadows hid her more fully, and she ducked behind a dumpster when he seemed like he might turn around again.

Then she saw them, five of them. All in black, like her; armed, like her; stalking Jay, like her.

Jay saw them, too. She was mildly impressed by that.

“What do you want this time,” he asked one, exasperated.

So they’d done this to him. She recalled what he’d told her before. He was looking for something to fix something he had.

Taking a chance, she stepped out, drawing the ninjas’ attention to her.

“I believe I’m what you’re all looking for,” she said.

~~~

Whoever was knocking on her door before noon should be Cataclysmed, Marinette decided, getting out of bed with a loud groan.

“What?” she snapped, answering the door with all the grace sleep-deprived Mari contained, which was about a thimbleful.

“Mari.”

“Oh. Jay. Got another stab wound for me to fix?”

“Thankfully, no. You’re the person I was looking for?”

“I dunno, am I?” she opened the door wider in silent invitation.

He sauntered in, settling into the rickety chair across from her bed. For her part, she dove under the blankets, relishing the small bit of retained warmth.

“So, I’ve been looking for you because I’ve been told you have a cure for Pit Madness.”

She tsked. “No wonder they’re after me. I wondered why, after all this time.”

“Why do you know the League of Assassins?”

She opened her eyes, sitting up to read his facial expressions. “Wait, those were League ninjas?”

He stared at her. “Who did you think they were?!”

“Uh. Ninjas from my magical sect? They don’t think I’m fit to…know the cure, so they tried to get me to give it up, but I convinced them I was fine with it. Why was the League after me, then?!”

“That might be my fault,” he offered sheepishly. “Ra’s doesn’t want to lose his last thread of control over me, so he was either going to get rid of me after I was cured or both of us if I hadn’t been fixed by the time his assassins caught up to us.”

“I’m going to push him into his precious Pits and then cataclysm them one day, I swear,” she mumbled, collapsing against her lumpy pillows.

She sat up again. “Okay, cure. It’s not that bad in you, so it shouldn’t take long. Plagg, Tikki!”

The kwami appeared at her summons, inspecting the startled Jay.

With a flash of their combined magics, Jay slumped in his chair.

“He should be good as new when he wakes up. It’s best to let him come to naturally,” Tikki warned her.

“Thank you.” She handed over their snacks, twisting Plagg’s ring absentmindedly on her finger as she watched Jay sleep.

~~~

The summer passed far too quickly, Jay and Mari floating along in the haze of budding love. They spent their time together practicing spars, magic, and getting to know each other. They were surprised to find how similar they were in many areas, their compatibility lending ease to their relationship. But one day Jay told her he’d left his responsibilities far too long, and he had to get back to them. With those words, their breakable heaven shattered into pieces.

“I’d ask you to come, but…”

“Yeah, it wouldn’t work out,” she agreed.

“It’s better this way.”

“Yep. Stay safe, Jay.”

“Stay safe, Mari.”

I love you, she thought, but bit her lip instead.

~~~

I love you, she thought, flicking through the photos they’d taken together, the nights she let herself be maudlin.

I love you, she thought, seeing a man in a red hoodie laughing as he played soccer in the street with a few kids.

I love you, she thought, seeing the return of Bruce Wayne’s son, Jason Todd, from the dead, which had apparently been a cover for WITSEC.

I love you, she thought, following the Red Hood to the Batcave, conveniently under Wayne Manor.

I love you, she thought, dressing to the nines in a type of outfit she’d never thought she’d wear.

I love you, she thought, watching Jason’s eyes flash with annoyance as a girl tried to flirt with him while he got a drink from the bartender at the gala they were both at.

“I love you,” she said, gliding up to him in rescue. She’d meant to say Hello, but it was too late now, so she smiled. “Isn’t that the worst thing you’ve ever heard?”

A slow smile took over his face as he looked up and saw her.

“Only if you agree that the worst thing you’ve ever heard is this: I. Love. You.”

“Looks like we’re in agreement, then.”

“All the best agreements are sealed-”

“-With a kiss?”

“We’re in agreement again, it seems.”

And then they agreed for a third time to stop talking and instead tell each other in a different way how much they’d missed the other.

#jasonette #fic #ali writes #mgi cw 24 #dcxmlb

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hiddenobject-fanblog · 8 months

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His Soul (Chapter 3)

Need Assistance?

Chapter 2

Summary: After saving the abducted collectors, you were trusted with Curioso's box. What seems like a dangerous possession slowly turns into an opportunity to learn more about this creature and his curse. Can you earn his trust, and possibly, his affection?

Pairings: Curioso/Reader, Curioso/The Detective

You were tempted to take Curioso’s advice and go searching nearby utility poles for any posted papers. You still needed to make money, after all. Your smaller jobs paid you for a week or two’s worth of groceries, but you could use a better telephone. One that didn’t require an emblem to work and wouldn’t fall apart after you used it. Your old office chair was also starting to hurt your back, so a new one would be nice...

Detective pay was great when you solved a major case. It made you fortunate enough to afford an apartment with a downstairs office. Other people didn’t have that luxury and you didn’t want to lose yours. So you were always on the search for available work. You put yourself out there as much as you could, leaving business cards with people and posting advertisements of Dark Light Detective Agency around town. You even had an arrangement for a regular ad space in the newspaper. If fate was kind to you, it was someone else who approached your agency for help.

Luckily, you didn’t have to wait much longer until such a thing happened.

A young woman entered your office one afternoon after your lunch break. She was wearing an excessive amount of clothing, including a coat and a pair of dark sunglasses. You figured she was trying to hide her identity as she traversed outside. You were quick to rise to your feet once she appeared and offered your help with removing her excess apparel. She thanked you as you hung her coat on the rack by your door.

“Good afternoon, miss. What can I help you with?” You asked as you both sat down.

She folded her hands and sighed. “Hello, Detective. I’m Brianna, and I’m afraid I have a pretty common case for you. My wife has been acting strange this past month and I have a great suspicion that she's hiding something from me. But I can’t figure out what it is.”

You removed your gloves and cleared some space on your desk. This was not only an ordinary case, but a known time-waster as well. But you’ve been wanting *something* to do, so you weren’t going to deny her plea, no matter how trivial it might be. It was always good to get out of the office as it was.

“Do you have any more information?” You asked. Brianna nodded and pulled out a folder she was carrying with her. She carefully set it in front of you. You opened it and briefly read through what she had.

Her wife was disappearing for several hours throughout the night and would return sometime in the morning. Brianna recorded her as having an odd smell, like she was trying to conceal something with some type of cleaner. She also appeared to be in a different mood when she came back, somewhat sluggish and reserved. She always returned in a different pair of clothing, which added to her suspicion.

“-And before you ask, I don’t believe it’s an affair. Sophie would never do that to me.” She shook her head. “I’m just a little worried. She’s usually so energetic, but not so much anymore. It’s like something else has been taking up all her time in the night.”

“..I see. And you want me to track her for the night, to see where she’s going? Bring you some pictures?”

“If it isn’t too much trouble, Detective. I know you probably have more important things going on…”

You slouched in your chair as you eyed your office that had been cleaned several times over. You had absolutely nothing going on right now, but she didn’t need to know that. Because of this, you happily accepted the case and received some more information from Brianna. She was thrilled with your cooperation and even paid you in advance for your trouble.

You planned on leaving tomorrow evening to start your investigation. It wouldn’t be anything more than tailing this woman and sitting in your car for hours while waiting for any interesting sights. You’d been on cases like this before, and most of the time, they ended without much hassle - one of the parties was simply overreacting, or the other was just trying to hide a surprise or bad habit. Nothing necessarily extreme enough to get the authorities involved.

As soon as you closed the door, you sighed. You’d been hoping for something more exciting. Oh, well. A job was a job. You weren’t going to complain…you were the one who accepted it, after all.

“Detective, you have a new case! How thrilling!”

You were scared to death again at the sudden sound of Curioso’s voice. Your eyes flitted over to the box sitting across the office. His face wasn’t projected right now, but the colors were bright. You rubbed the side of your face in frustration as you approached it. He hadn’t spoken to you for a week after your last brief conversation - but it made sense he would appear now. You were doing exactly as he had hoped for.

“Yes, just not a very eventful one, I think.” You responded, rolling your office chair to sit in front of the box. This notion must’ve been noticed by Curioso somehow, as he immediately made a comment:

“Getting comfortable?”

You were confused. “You…can see? From inside that thing?”

“I can do plenty of things you probably think I can’t.”

You intertwined your fingers together in thought. If he was here right now, willing to talk with you, then you wanted to get some answers. The last exchange you two had brought some interesting theories to your mind, about this whole situation. If you were in possession of this jester creature, who said you couldn’t learn more about him? Who knows - he might appreciate the company..?

“Oh, yeah? How many fingers am I holding up?”

You lifted your fingers. There was no hesitation in his reply.

“I’m not playing that game.” When you refused to lower your arm, Curioso groaned in agitation. “..You’re holding three.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. “So you weren’t lying..! How far can you see? Is it my whole office or just a few inches in front of you?”

“How about we talk about your new case instead? I find that more riveting.”

You frowned. Why was he avoiding answering you? It was a simple question. “Why? It’s not that interesting. I’m sure you heard all the details.”

“Not with *that* attitude! Anything can be an adventure if you make it one. And I have a great idea on how you can do exactly that..!”

He sounded way too excited for your liking. He had returned to the jovial tune he used to have, when you first met him. It made you weary as you slightly cringed away. “...And what is that?”

“Take me with you, Detective.”

“What? I’m not letting you out, I’ve told you-”

“You don’t have to release me. Just put my box in a bag and carry it with you. Simple?”

“Okay, that just brings me to my first question - how far can you exactly see, to make any of that worth it?”

There was silence. Then an audible huff. Could he actually breathe? Or was he just doing that to express his annoyance? “-Let’s just say I can see around whatever room I’m in.”

You rubbed your jaw, slightly impressed. You couldn’t wipe the confident grin that spread on your lips. “But you can’t do anything in your state right now..?”

“If I could, I assure you, Detective, I would have done it weeks ago. Now. How’s about taking me along for your trip?”

An uneasy feeling found its way into your stomach. Something didn’t feel right about this. Clearly, he had an ulterior motive if he was willing to come along with you. Part of you wanted to believe he was feeling lonely. There was no one else besides the floating souls he had taken in his realm. But the other part of you was still suspicious that he was trying to find a way out of your box - and possibly your hands. You wouldn’t let that slide. If you were carrying him, you would never let Curioso out of your sight or your possession. You envisioned carrying around the box the entire time. You didn’t like the weight and lack of inventory space that would bring. It was too much of a burden.

The creature could hear your hesitation. Before you reached a decision, he pleaded. “Think of how useful I could be to you. You can set me down somewhere and I will search for you while you do other things. I can find useful items, hidden objects-”

“-All of those things I can do on my own, in due time.”

“Ah, but think of all the advantages if you let me out..! I could go anywhere you desired. Do anything you want. You and I could be a team, Detective !”

Would it be advantageous to have a magical jester at your side? Who could teleport wherever he pleased and altered reality as he wished? He could be an extra pair of (figurative) eyes and ears for you. He could do anything you couldn't. It would be a tool no other detective agency had.

There was just one problem-

"I don't trust you enough for that." You stated firmly.

"I promise I won't misbehave. I won't even collect another soul, you have my honest word-"

"You'll promise anything to get out of that box, I'm sure."

You stood from your chair and wheeled it back behind your desk nonchalantly. You were sure he was watching your every movement while your back was turned.

"Unless you can prove to me that you've changed, and you won't do what you did at Andrew Collins' house, then you're staying in there. I'm not going to be your next puppet to play with."

"Of course. You're much too smart for that." He murmured so low that you barely heard it. He might not have intended for it. "But how can I prove anything to you if you won't let me out?"

"Earn my trust. I'll have you figure that one out on your own."

You actually left with that statement, heading upstairs into your apartment without a further word. You were planning how tomorrow night would transpire and making notes on what to bring. You had high hopes you could solve this case with a breeze.

And more importantly, without Curioso's help.

#whispered secrets: morbid obsession #curioso #curioso x reader #his soul #whispered secrets morbid obsession #hidden object #hidden object game #big fish games #fanfiction #im sick but posting this anyway

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asweetprologue · 3 years

Text

Nili’s Benchmark Geraskier Fic Rec List

hey yall! I officially hit 750 followers (a few days ago, I blew past the benchmark without even realizing!), which is... insane. I truly can’t believe that so many people over the last year have enjoyed my presence in this fandom enough to continue to follow my work. you guys are so great and I love you all so much, so I decided to put together a gift for you!

this is a list of my favorite geraskier fics from the fandom, which I have been putting together over the last year or so. a few of these are big in the fandom, but a lot of them are smaller pieces that I feel deserve more attention! I have provided ao3 and tumblr links where I could find them, as well as ratings and summaries. Most of these are canon!verse because I’m not personally a big fan of modern au’s, but there will be a few of those scattered throughout as well. I’ve divided the fics into two sections: oneshots and multichapter. See the list below the cut!

Being in this fandom truly has gotten me through the pandemic in a big way and I have made so many good friends while here. thank you all for validating my weird obsession with these characters and enabling me in these trying times <3

Oneshots

all that was good, all that was fair (all that was me is gone) | M | 7517 | WARNING: Graphic Depictions Of Violence | @xdandelionxbloomx

Somewhere, deep in a forest, a man drags himself from his grave by sheer power of will. He lies gasping on the forest floor and does not know who or what he is. The world is wide and wonderful, though, and there is so much to see.

Or, Jaskier is so stubborn that he literally comes back from the dead.

Another fascinating addition to the mythology of the Witcher. Jaskier’s slow rediscovery of himself is so well done here. One I’ve come back to again and again.

As Fast As Love Can Go | T | 9628 | @bygodstillam

There are Faeries in the Wood.

That's what everyone said, at least, not that there was any solid proof. Jaskier had tried, more than once, to find some. Just a hint somewhere, of a real story, of real magic. But all anyone seemed to have was stories.

Jaskier was determined to find proof. He wasn't expecting to find a witcher in the process.

Fascinating fic with some really interesting worldbuilding, and a fresh new take on True Love’s Kiss. Also with some great art by @hehearse!

beautiful, he stirs up still things | T | 2575 | @alittlebitmaybe

“You’re not asking me to dance,” says Geralt.

Jaskier turns his palm up on his knee, offering it. “I think you’ll find I am.”

Just them dancing. This is a lovely sort of pre-relationship dynamic. So soft.

Dialogue Prompt | NR | 2932 | @reinvent-and-believe

Dialogue Prompt 48: “You make me want things I can’t have.” Wordless I-love-you 50: buying them a special treat when you go out shopping

Geralt gets Jaskier a gift, which prompts some confessions.

Even a small love | E | 22,272 | WARNING: Rape/Non-Con

“Well,” Jaskier replies distractedly. “Lots of things want to strangle you.”

“You don’t.”

It isn’t a particularly troublesome accusation, or even necessarily an accusation at all.

This is one I read early on in the fandom, and it really stuck with me. The dynamic between Jaskier and Geralt is perfect, and the misunderstandings between them feel so realistic. The non-con is not extreme, but do mind the warnings.

For the Space of a Heartbeat | T | 2021 | @drowningbydegrees

As it turns out, falling into bed with your very best friend who you are privately very much in love with isn't nearly so nerve wracking as waking up with them the morning after.

Just sweet, morning after discussions. I love to see them talking for once.

Greensleeves | T | 10,414 | @rebrandedbard

When Geralt crosses paths with Jaskier in the spring, the world is dressed in green. Quite literally. Everyone everywhere is wearing green, and it all comes down to a song Jaskier has written that, to his mortification, has become popular throughout the Continent. It's torment, being forced to preform the song over and over again and have his heart broken anew. But who is this Lady Greensleeves the people say Jaskier is so maddeningly, heartbrokenly in love with? At the baron's wedding party, Geralt is determined to find out.

This is one of my personal faves - there’s just something about Jaskier’s feelings being put on blast while Geralt remains totally oblivious that I think is so very them. And the resolution at the end is delightful.

I Don’t Wanna Fall (If It’s Not In Love) | E | 13,902 | @writinglizards

The first time it's out of desperation. Things get rapidly out of hand from there.

OR the building of a relationship through mutual wank sessions.

I love everything Ashley writes, but this one was the first fic I read by her and it still has a warm place in my heart. I also highly recommend It’s Been A While (makes me cry every time) and Tell Me Honestly

Like a Storm, Like a Flood | T | 1065 | @valdomarx

Jaskier is leaving for the winter, and Geralt can't bear the thought of not seeing him for months.

It was soooo hard to pick only one fic by George, but this one is so soft and sweet and yearning I just had to go with it. This is really just about Geralt finally hitting a breaking point and saying enough is enough.

one flesh | E | 10,763 | WARNING: MCD

“Well, then. I’m a ghost.” Jaskier spread his arms grandly. Geralt held his gaze for a moment, then dropped his head and laughed. Jaskier put his hands on his hips. “Do fill me in on what’s so funny.” It wasn’t funny. It was just so - ridiculous, the things Geralt’s fucked up brain would invent. This had to be the last nail in the sanity coffin, it just had to be.

Or: Jaskier is a ghost, and Geralt is a mess.

Jaskier dies and comes back as a ghost to haunt Geralt into taking care of himself. Geralt does not handle this gracefully. This fic is so sad and heartbreaking, but the ending is so sweet.

to render it transparent | E | 23,901

Geralt wakes up warm, peaceful, and utterly content, which is how he knows that something is severely wrong.

Sigh. This fic. This is a time travel fic - Geralt ends up in the future living with Jaskier on the coast, just after the mountain. It’s slow and beautiful and extremely bittersweet, all about how we choose to love people despite how much it can hurt us.

With All the Continent A Stage | M | 4745 | @greyduckgreygoose

Later, Geralt learned that the play was four hours long. Four hours long. It didn’t feel like it. Most of it passed by in a fever dream of ominous music, dance-fighting and dryads in gossamer leaves, swinging from hoops attached to the ceiling. Yennefer made an appearance, played by Priscilla in a glittering negligee. She sang a song to Geralt about putting him “Under Her Spell”, and they had a sensual dance number which was made a little strange by a sickened Jaskier (played by Jaskier) coughing loudly in the background.

(Jaskier invites Geralt to a musical production inspired by his own life.)

Jaskier basically writes Geralt a love letter in the form of a four hour long play. Geralt is an idiot about it.

Multi-Chapter Fics

A Lover’s Lament | M | 25,364 | @somedrunkpirate

So,” Jaskier begins, as casually as he can, “you are telling me, that in theory, if I were to be in love with someone — anyone — that person could well be in terrible danger?”

Of all terrible and ridiculous things that have threatened Geralt’s safety, Jaskier’d never thought that loving him might be what will get him killed.

I honestly can’t count the number of times I’ve read this fic. The monster is so interesting, and the mythos of it fits seamlessly into the world of the Witcher in my mind. Jaskier being so afraid that his feelings are going to put Geralt at risk, clearly unable to see that Geralt is going through the exact same thing. I think about the scene with them looking at each other almost daily.

A Pair of Gloves, the Scent of Roses | M | 24,134 | WARNING: Graphic Depictions of Violence

In the bustling days before the Midsummer festival, Geralt is sent into the countryside to deal with a monster - with Jaskier once again by his side. But the bard has not forgiven him, and while he's not hiding his contempt for the Witcher, he is recalcitrant about revealing his true motives for joining him. As the hunt turns into a desperate mission to save an innocent man and the monster is not what is seems to be, Geralt learns a few new things about his old friend and decides to finally attempt to mend the rift between them...

This is one of my favorite’s in the fandom - it feels so believable, the world is so rich and the oc’s are convincing and charming. Geralt and Jaskier feel so honest here, stumbling around each other but still drawn together. Beautiful beautiful beautiful

Bearing the will of the flower | NR | 11,449

The way Jaskier sees it, his hobby of following a witcher around was always pretty likely to get him killed.

The fact that it's happening now because the witcher in question doesn't love him, he thinks as he coughs up crumpled flowers, hardly makes a difference.

My favorite hanahaki fic in the fandom. I’m such a sucker for these, and these two idiots being so incapable of talking about their feelings really makes them prime candidates.

Food of Love | T | 22,488 | @wallatile-qvibbler

I brought a dead princess back to life through the power of song is the kind of thing that would have got an eyebrow raise even from the stone-faced Geralt of Rivia, so it's a good thing he and Geralt will probably never see each other again.

(or: the one where Jaskier channels magic through his songs, and it almost never goes as expected.)

This is a Jaskier and Renfri centric fic, which wasn’t something I knew I wanted until I read this. Jaskier is a bard which in this AU comes with magical powers, but it feels so well integrated into the universe that I wish it was just... how the Witcher is. Renfri is so good here, and even though Jaskier and Geralt barely even interact you can feel the tension and love between them. Cannot recommend highly enough.

friends and allies of the witcher | T | 10,312 | @theamazingbard

Yennefer crawls over to her newest cellmate. They’re curled up on their side. Breathing, but only just. She’s not sure what she’s hoping for when she turns them over. Still isn’t when she sees that it is indeed Jaskier.

“Shit."

Yennefer and Jaskier each suffer in more ways than one at the hands of Nilfgaard.

Yennefer and Jaskier get capture by Nilfgaard and tossed into a cell together. Exactly what I want out of season 2 honestly. Their interactions are gold.

I’d Be the Choiceless Hope | E | 45,188 | WARNING: Rape/Non-Con | @lesdemonium

As a baby, Jaskier was visited by a fae, who gifted Jaskier's mother with Jaskier's obedience. As Jaskier grew older, the "gift" became more of a curse.

You know I’m not gonna make a rec list without listing Zoe’s Ella Enchanted au. Need I say more?

Silver and Copper | M | 56,139 | WARNING: Graphic Depictions of Violence | @kaer-cuan

Geralt is just supposed to pass through the quiet Lettenhove area. He's not anticipating being begged by its people to help save their viscount from a curse that keeps him from daylight. Lord Jaskier, they call him, and he's likely dying.

As Geralt struggles to untangle the ugly web of history that has lead to the increasingly complicated curse, he finds himself spending more and more time with the strange young viscount and wondering just what he might have been before the curse, and who he might be after. But things are not always as they seem, and as the curse tightens its grip on Jaskier, Geralt is forced to face the fear of failing yet another person whose choices were stolen from them.

Or-

Jaskier is kept from becoming a bard. Geralt finds him anyway.

This is a fic that haunts me. It’s very scary in parts, and mind the tags - there are some very heavy themes here. But it’s beautiful and touching, and Jaskier feels very true to himself even though his origin is so different.

we could be married (and then we'd be happy) | E | 50,222 | @a-kind-of-merry-war

Jaskier reached into his pocket, fingers grasping around the little box. He pulled it out with what he hoped was a romantic flourish, flipping it open to reveal the simple gold band inside. “Geralt,” he said, confidently, cooly, like this wasn’t terrifying, “Will you marry me?”

Geralt and Jaskier fake marriage proposals to get free deserts and shit but it goes tits up when Vesemir catches them in the act. Not knowing how to fess up, they go along with it for a while, which is hell because they’re both pining like mad. As I said, I don’t love modern au’s, but it’s merry so of course this one had to end up on my list.

And that’s it! 20 fics for you, and hopefully you can all find one or two you haven’t read before. There are a lot of people and fics that I didn’t include in this list only because I was trying to not put a million down (which I could). I highly recommend anything by @wherethewordsare, @julek, @contemplativepancakes, @witcher-and-his-bard, and @inber, as well as those linked to fics above, and I’m sure there are others I forgot to mention. Yall have truly made being in this fandom worthwhile <3

#geraskier #geraskier fic recs #geralt of rivia #geralt #jaskier #witcher #fic recs #fic rec #I'm certain i missed a lot of good ones I've read over the years but I didn't want to risk making this super fucking long anyways #if you didn't see your name listed it isn't bc I don't adore you and your fics it's because i'm stupid <333

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sagittariuswritings · 3 years

Text

Your Touch

TFATWS EPISODE 4 SPOILERS Pairing: Helmut Zemo x f!reader Summary: Y/n was dragged along Sam and Bucky’s “Zemo mission” by Bucky. She’s a mutant herself, an empath to be exact. After the blip, Bucky became her new neighbor. They became good friends, and got to know each other, and he offered to teach her self defense. When he asked for her help, she never knew she’d catch feelings for a criminal. Warnings: Language, angst, soft!zemo, fluff, and h*nd h*lding Word count: 2.3k+ A/N: I know I know I posted a screenshot of this days ago but I’ve been really busy at the barn lately and I always have to go to bed before midnight and I’m typically busy until 8pm so I’ve been really meaning to finish this!! AO3 link (not my gif)

The new plan was for Sam to try and talk to Karli. Of course, Y/n didn’t expect Zemo to actually go through with that. Zemo called Karli a supremacist, which just about earned him a punch across the nose from her, but she held herself back - more like Bucky caught what she was about to do and he grabbed her by the elbow to drag her away like a child.

Y/n wore gloves nearly all the time, in all weather. With her empathic powers, and no one to guide her with them, she didn’t know how to control them or contain them, so she resulted in wearing gloves instead. Sure, it sucked when summer came, but in her mind it was worth it in the end.

Of course, John Walker himself had to butt in. The four of them (Sam, Bucky, Zemo, and Y/n) were on their way to Donya’s funeral, and low and behold John Walker’s been tracking them down. “Karli Morgenthau is too dangerous for you guys to be pulling this shit.”

“Ah great - How’d you find us now?” Bucky immediately spoke up when they rounded the corner to fully see John and Lemar.

“Come on, man, you really think two avengers can walk around Latvia without drawing attention?” Started Lemar, but then John butted in. “No more keeping us in the dark. You could start by telling us why you broke him out of prison.”

“Technically speaking, he did that himself-” Y/n started, but John cut her off.

“And who the hell is she?” He turned, looking at Sam and Bucky while jabbing a thumb in her direction.

“She can very well speak for herself, off-brand Captain America.” She said with her arms going over her chest. She couldn’t stand the guy already. Her and Bucky were together to watch his little football game thing, and she could practically see the steam coming out of Bucky’s ears. She could feel the anger, too. “I’m simply an acquaintance helping my friends, none of your concern.”

“None of my-” “Yes, none of your business. I know where Karli is.” Zemo interrupted him, starting to push past John, but he stopped him. “Well where?” Sam spoke up for Zemo, “All we know is, it’s a memorial, so we’re gonna intercept her there.” Lemar said something about being careful due to civilians, but Zemo, Y/n, and Bucky were already starting to walk off.

John tried explaining his quote on quote plan and that of course led to bickering between him, Sam, and Lemar. All Y/n could do was roll her eyes and earned a small chuckle from Zemo beside her. “What?” “Oh, nothing, it is just entertaining is all.” “What? Me getting frustrated or them bickering like children?” Zemo paused. “Both.”

John, yet again, tried stopping them, and having already been around their bickering, Y/n was getting fed up. This time, it was Zemo who held her back. He gently wrapped his hand around her elbow before she could speak up, and she reluctantly listened to him, letting the rest of them deal with his bullshit.

“I’ll deal with you later.” John pointed at Zemo. “Yeah, sure you will.” She mumbled, and before John could snap back, Zemo spoke up. “My associate is just up ahead.” And with that, they were finally moving again. Y/n figured there would be a trick or two up Zemo’s sleeve, but using a child to show him to the funeral was the last thing she expected him to do. As he gave her the money, she couldn’t help but smile a little. It was nice to see a man that looked extremely closed-off do something good. Maybe he wasn’t so bad after all.

Before Zemo could even speak, John cuffed him to a piece of machinery. “You’ve got ten minutes, then we’re doing things my way.” He told Sam over his shoulder after cuffing Zemo.

“Aggressive. But I get it.” In all honesty, Y/n wasn’t against this. More often than not her gut feelings were correct, and she certainly had a gut feeling that Zemo was going to do something either stupid or bad within the next hour or so.

Y/n sat down beside Lemar, bringing one knee up to her chest and letting her other leg hang off the edge of this machinery. She didn’t hate Lemar the way she hated John. Lemar seemed to have a good heart, one that was set in the right way and that wouldn’t change no matter what. He wasn’t like his associate, and Y/n could feel it. John had an aggressive and arrogant type of energy, meanwhile Lemar had a passionate and determined energy. There wasn’t a dangerous edge to the man.

The entire ten minutes - well, at this point it hadn’t even been eight let alone ten -, John paced nonstop and was driving her and Bucky insane. Her and Bucky seemed to make eye contact out of frustration nearly every time John would pace. And Zemo just stood with a grimace on his face the entire time. “Do you ever stop?” She finally said. “Stop what?” “Trying so fucking hard to be the hero of every situation.” “Excuse me?” That seemed to irritate him because he stopped pacing and came up to her, barely leaving much space between them.

“Y/n.” Bucky spoke, his tone a warning. “Leave it be.”

“No, I’m not going to leave it be. Not when I can’t hear my own thoughts over this guy making a trench in the concrete.” She sat up as she defended herself, not even bothering to look up at John when she talked to Bucky. “You try so hard to be the good guy. You have this mindset that you’re in control of everything just because you gave yourself the label Captain America. You think just because you’ve been labeled as Captain America, you can just go about bossing everyone around. You’re a spitting image of your average American, however.” With that, she got to her feet. She was smaller than him, but that didn’t stop her from continuing. “You’re a rich white man with beautiful blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes, but you think because you’re a rich white man that you can control everything. You’re one spitting image of the American Government: Fucked up and corrupt.”

You could hear a pin drop. It was so silent. Y/n could feel the pure anger in John begin to bubble up, and right when she thought he was going to hit her, all he said was “I’m going in.” She was left standing there as Lemar jogged after John, just her and Zemo being the only ones left in the room.

“That was… Impressive.” Zemo ended up speaking first. Y/n snapped her head over at him, and there were tears welling up in her eyes. She didn’t normally get like this. The energy in the room was tense and her emotions got caught in the tension. “It wasn’t.” She mumbled, a sniffle following her words as she made her way over to Zemo. “I don’t exactly trust you but,” She pulled a bobby pin out of her hair. “This is a bit much.” It took her a second, but she was able to unlock the handcuffs.

Zemo seemed to stare at the cuffs for a moment while he rubbed his wrist, his eyes meeting her own. “Thank you.” “It’s nothing. Just go do your thing and I’ll be your babysitter.”

The large metal door slammed before Y/n could follow Zemo into the boiling room, and she heard him shove things in front of the door. “Zemo?” Silence. “Zemo what the fuck, let me in!” She shoved her shoulder against the door, but it didn’t budge. “It’s for your own safety.” She scoffed. “My safety? You better be worried about your own safety if I get my fucking hands on you after this, open the door.” She heard his footsteps retreating and she slammed her fist against the door out of anger, probably bruising her hand in the process because god that hurt.

Gunshots went off. She didn’t want to leave the spot in fear of getting lost, and within minutes Bucky was jogging down the hallway. “Zemo locked me out and I just heard gunshots-” Before she could continue, bucky managed to get the door open by kicking it, then he just had to push it open. By the time they got in the room, Lemar entered from across the room and upon looking down, Zemo’s unconscious body was in the center of the room while John stood some feet away from him. “What the hell happened-?” Y/n breathed out, running down the stairs and dropping to her knees by Zemo’s body, her fingers instantly going to his pulse beneath his jaw. There was a very obvious pulse, but she was still shaken up.

Why was she shaken up? He was a bad man. He was a criminal. He used Bucky to destroy people’s lives. He was supposed to be her enemy, so why was she worried about whether or not he had a pulse?

“Karli got him.” John came up behind her, but she stood up immediately. “Would you just back the fuck off? You don’t need to butt in on everything or be involved in everything. Get it through your stupid fucking helmet to your brain.” He started talking but she turned around and got back to Zemo’s side. She lightly hit his cheek with her gloved hand, and when he didn’t budge for a moment, she muttered a sorry before slapping him. That seemed to wake him up. His head lifted off the concrete, and his eyes fluttered open to meet her own.

“Oh, good, you’re alive. Let’s go back to your home now. Bucky?” She looked up at him, a soft pleading look in her eyes that said help. Reluctantly, he wandered over and helped her get Zemo to his feet.

Bucky and Sam had left to find somewhere for food, and left Y/n alone with Zemo in his home. She didn’t mind, if anything it was her suggestion. While the pair left the building, she guided him to his couch. He originally sat up but she put a hand on his chest and gently put pressure on his chest to ease him into a lying position. “I’ll get you some ice.” She quietly said, making her way to the kitchen.

“A cold cloth, please. Not a fan of ice over my eyes.” Zemo managed to speak up, his voice drifting to the kitchen. “As long as you’re sure.” She answered, grabbing a washcloth from one of the many drawers of his kitchen.

Quietly, Y/n stepped into the living room. “Lift your head.” She ordered. “Feisty.” Was his response. She rolled her eyes and sat where he had lifted his head. “Lay back.” She ordered again. Reluctantly, he lowered the back of his head onto her lap. “Close your eyes.” “I like the sound of that.” He muttered, his lips forming into a smirk. “Keep it up and I’ll make your headache ten times worse.” She quipped, gently laying the cloth over his closed eyes. “Now open your hand for a glass.” And she gently placed a shot glass of one of his strongest alcohols in his hand. “Do you want any pain meds or anything?” She asked, looking down at him. “Your touch would be enough, mein liebling.” His voice was quiet.

Of course, Y/n wore gloves solely to not have any physical contact with anyone. She feared feeling others’ emotions, seeing as she didn’t have a clue of how to control them. She’d told Zemo that she just had sensitive skin to certain material, which she figured he didn’t buy it, but he never said anything else.

With hesitation, she removed her gloves and placed them on the coffee table to her left. “Alright.” She spoke, her voice barely above a whisper as she reached for his right hand with her own. When she placed her hand in his, she felt him flinch. “You didn’t have to take your gloves off if you didn’t want to-” She cut him off. “It’s okay, Zemo.” “Helmut.” “Pardon?” “Call me Helmut. It’s my first name. Zemo isn’t my first.” Her brows raised in surprise, but she nodded.

Within moments of her slipping her hand in his, he intertwined his fingers with her own. A soft shade of pink settled onto her cheeks, and she was thankful that he couldn’t see her.

Surprisingly, she didn’t feel anything she’d feared when she touched his skin. She could feel faint pain and sadness from the past, but she also felt kindness. “You have a kind heart, you know. You put on a stone cold expression, but you’re kind.. I can feel it.”

With that, he placed his glass on the table and very quickly removed the cloth from his eyes, even though it hurt him to move his head too much. “I knew it.” She looked at him, a brow raised to toy with him. “Knew what?” “You’re an empath.” There it was. She knew he knew. “I am.”

“Am I… Hurting you?” Her heart nearly exploded at how soft his voice was. Very quickly, she shook her head. “No, no you’re not. I promise.” She smiled down at him and her eyes softened when she saw that look on his face. He was like a completely different person. He was touch starved. It was clearer than a crystal.

“Rest, Helmut… You need it.” She whispered, leaning over to gently press a kiss to his now cold forehead.

“You don’t need to tell me twice when you’re lulling me to sleep.” He snuck a smirk in before she laughed softly and covered his eyes with the cloth once more.

#helmut zemo/reader #zemo/reader #helmut zemo x reader #zemo x reader #helmut zemo x y/n #helmut zemo x you #zemo x y/n #zemo x you #marvel #mcu #tfatws #tfatws spoilers #the falcon and the winter soldier #baron helmut zemo #helmut zemo #zemo #daniel bruhl

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marlynnofmany · 3 years

Text

Medicinal Diseases

One way to deal with zombie bites. 1190 words

~~~

Stef stumbled as she got out of the car, but Jessica was there to help her. The emergency room entrance was close. At this time of night, there had even been a parking space nearby so Jessica didn’t have to abandon her car in the loading zone. They both knew there was no way she’d be leaving Stef to move it.

Medical personnel met them just inside the door. Jessica had called ahead, telling the 911 operator that (1) her girlfriend had been bitten by a zombie, (2) they were on the way to the hospital now, speed limits be damned, and (3) somebody should take a cleanup crew to what was left of the zombie in their yard. The operator had agreed.

Now Stef was on a gurney, being whisked through the halls while Jessica kept pace and answered questions for her.

“How long has it been?” asked a nurse.

“It was right at midnight,” Jessica said. “We went outside to see the fireworks, and it was waiting for us.”

Stef whispered, “Happy New Year,” and Jessica squeezed her good hand.

“Were you injured at all?”

“No, I just creamed it with a flowerpot,” Jessica said, eyes flicking back to Stef. “Sorry again. I’ll buy you a new one.”

Stef insisted that it was fine as Jessica told the nurses about the way Stef had kept the monster away from her neck by shoving her forearm into its mouth, and how Jessica had strewn the porch with ceramic, dirt, geraniums, and gore. Then she’d grabbed their things and hustled Stef into the car.

One last set of doors opened, admitting the gurney and its various attendants into a room with a bed. Stef was helped onto it while people rushed around preparing things. The bloody dishtowel was carefully removed from her arm. Stef was surprised that it didn’t hurt. When she saw how discolored the messy bite was already, she realized that was a bad sign.

Now that she thought about it, her whole arm was pretty numb. And the room kept tilting slightly. Somebody would say if an earthquake was happening, right?

They were doing something with her arm. An injection. That didn’t hurt either, though it felt faintly cold as it moved through her veins.

“Drink this.” A paper cup appeared in front of her, held by a hand wearing a glove. Stef struggled to focus. Red liquid, very blurry. Raising her other hand took far longer than it should have.

When it became obvious that Stef’s coordination wasn’t up to it, the nurse held the cup to her mouth while someone else cradled her head. Jessica.

The red stuff tasted bad. Like blood? She didn’t want to finish it, but everyone in the room urged her to, and it was a small cup anyway. A different cup full of blue mouthwash appeared as soon as she finished.

After she’d spat into the tub that someone else held up, and had her mouth wiped by another gloved hand, Stef let her eyes close. Jessica was talking to her. Such a nice voice. The words were probably nice too. She’d have to ask what they were later.

Stef snapped awake. Time had passed. How much? No idea. Jessica was sitting next to her while two nurses talked at the foot of the bed, and they all gathered close when Stef lifted her head.

Jessica spoke first. “You’re gonna be okay,” she said. “They got it in time.”

“Just one more treatment, then you’re in the clear,” said one nurse, an older woman. “Let’s have a look at that arm.”

Stef found that her injury was bandaged, though more lightly than she would have expected for so much torn flesh. When the nurse removed the gauze, Stef was amazed to see a much smaller gouge than she’d remembered, and it was even healthy colors.

Were the edges mending as she watched?

“Very nice,” said the nurse. “Just a few more minutes, I’d say.” She checked her wristwatch and glanced at her coworker. “And we’re well within the safe zone. Good job getting here so quickly.”

Jessica smiled at that, sitting straighter in the chair. She squeezed Stef’s shoulder. “The stoplights were in our favor.”

Stef smiled back at her, then looked at her arm again. It was healing that fast. “What kind of treatment was that?” she asked. “I didn’t know we had any kind of healing magic!”

“We don’t,” said the nurse. “Not exactly. What we do have is a different problem, but one that’s reversible once it fixes the first one for us.”

“Vampirism,” the male nurse said. “Turns out that regeneration of theirs works on zombie necrosis too.”

“Vampires?” Stef asked with a touch of panic. She tongued her canines to see if they were sharper. Maybe?

“It’s temporary,” Jessica said, putting both hands on Stef’s shoulder to calm her. “There’s a mix of holy water and garlic that’ll stop it before it goes too far.”

“Don’t forget the UV lights,” said the male nurse, nodding toward the bank of lightbulbs waiting on a wheelie cart in the corner of the room.

“Oh,” Stef said. It felt like she should have said more, but that was all she was coming up with.

She thought back to the sight of the rotten face coming at her, its mouth open and its grip strong. She shuddered. The nightmares were going to be bad.

She did have one question after all. “Vampires are immune to zombie bites, then?”

Jessica gave her a strange look while the female nurse said yes.

“But before you ask,” the nurse continued, “We’re not allowed to skip the final treatment, no matter how many waivers you sign. There are other ways to seek out that particular change, and the hospital can’t be held liable for any immortal who might regret their life choices later down the road.”

“Even with the waiver?”

The nurse smiled with infinite patience. “Legal issues aren’t the problem. An angry vampire isn’t likely to take their grievance before a judge. And yes, it’s come up before. Our security team is armed with many things, including garlic and special flashlights.”

“Okay,” Stef said, pulling her arm in. “Just asking.”

The nurse patted her leg. “You’ll be all right,” she said. “This sort of trauma can bother a person, though. If you want to talk to someone about it, give these folks a call.” She handed Stef a brochure for counciling services.

“Thank you,” Stef said.

“I understand they give good advice about life choices too,” the nurse said with a wink. “So people don’t rush into anything.”

“Oh.” Stef looked at the brochure again, then at Jessica, who was wearing a very complicated expression. “Thanks. I’ll think about it.”

The nurse beamed. “You do that. In the meantime, I think we’re just about ready for your last treatment. Would you like sunglasses, honey?” This last was aimed at Jessica, who said yes please.

They got everything ready while Stef lay there, a healing wound in one arm and a brochure in the other hand. She felt her teeth and thought about it.

#my writing #zombies #vampires #hospitals #creative medicine #writeblr #amwriting #this turned out a little more intense than I expected #but the world they live in is an interesting one #I explored the idea in a post half a year ago #and now it seems worth writing out #still an intriguing concept

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writingthingsisdifficult · 3 years

Text

Double booking

Word count: 3934

You just want a night in peace at the hotel, after travelling for hours, but alas, it's not to be. Inspired by a dream I had a while ago, though that was not as coherent or logical by any means.

Obligatory English is not my first language.

Please let me know what you think.

_______________________________________________________________________

The bed is soft as a cloud and you crawl under the blanket with a satisfied sight. The chill of the luxury fabric feels divine against your weary body, and you pull our tee off to get the full experience. Goosebumps erupt over your back, and you wiggle down into the mattress. Letting out another sigh that morphs into a yawn, you close your eyes. After hours on the road, a good night's sleep will do wonders.

You turn for a bit, trying to find the ultimate sleeping position, settling for a half side, half stomach that provide that sweet, sweet relief for your achy back. With your free hand, you pull a corner of the blanket between your thighs, longing for the extra soft pillow you have at home, but that you just couldn't be bothered to bring with you. At least this way you won't chafe.

The linen caresses your bare skin, the cool of the newly made bed pulling you closer to dreamland, and then you're drifting off into the vast nothingness.

What feels like only seconds later, you wake with a start, from the lights turning on. Fumbling for your glasses and feeling your heart in your throat, your brain scrambles to make sense of what's happening. Is the fire alarm ringing? No.

Once the glasses are comfortably on, you glance around, only to notice a man standing in front of the wardrobe, mouth half open and a bag slipping from his shoulder. He's tall and menacing looking, and he's wearing gloves and a leather jacket, and you let out a strangled scream as you tumble off the bed, knocking the book from the nightstand and trying to wrap the thin blanket around yourself with trembling hands.

The fabric feels way too flimsy now, letting the draft from the open door wash over your body. There are goosebumps again, but this time they're not pleasant at all, and they wave back and forth over your scalp, making your ears buzz. You're painfully aware that the blanket is the only thing between your skin and the open air, and you pull it even closer as you back into the window wall and pull your knees up in front of you.

Your heart pounds like a bass drum, and you're pretty sure the stranger can hear it across the room. He still hasn't moved, and without conscious thought, you scan the room for an exit. But this is the fifth floor, and there's only one door that doesn't require you to go past him, and that leads to the neighbouring room. Not that it is, in any way, shape, or form, possible to get that far in your current condition.

Your breathing speeds up, and you crouch, trying to make yourself as small as possible. The coarse curtain prickles against your shoulders.

The stranger looks between you and the white key card on his hand, his mouth trying to speak, but managing no sound. Finally, after what feels like years, he looks away and stammers. "Sorry. Sorry. I must have gone to the wrong door." His neck has turned a deep shade of crimson, and he hunches his shoulders a bit, like he's trying to make himself smaller too. "I… uh, sorry." He picks up his bag and disappears through the door, closing it firmly behind him.

On the floor, you're barely aware that he spoke; the shock has practically paralysed you. It's not until the door smacks shut you manage to move again. Slowly, fighting the galloping heart and breathing, you get up and sit down on the edge of the bed. It's no longer tempting to crawl under the covers, and you don't have the courage to cross the room to put the security chain in place just yet. The encounter has spooked you so much, adrenaline is coursing through your body.

"I need a drink!" you mutter, voice croaking and airy at the same time, and pull on the discarded shirt. There's no chance of sleep for a while. That much is clear! "Idiot!" You berate yourself, mentally slapping the back of your own head for forgetting to fasten the chain, but you had been so busy worrying about the twin door that it completely slipped your mind.

The selection in the mini fridge is limited, but at least there's a couple of bottles of cola, and a small vodka. After mixing them, you down half the glass in one go, and the burn of the alcohol on your tongue makes your face scrunch, but you immediately relax a bit, and your thoughts clear somewhat. What the hell just happened? This is supposed to be a good hotel. Not very fancy, but better than the bug infested dumps you usually have to stay in.

You make a mental note to talk to the management. Tomorrow. Right now you're to riled up. Nothing good will come of it. Taking a deep breath, you close your eyes and focus on the buzzing in your ears. Slowly it fades until your hearing is back to normal, but there is no getting rid of the uncomfortable sting in your shoulders, or the occasional THUMP-THUMP in your chest.

As you finish your drink – you've almost decided on a second one to keep you company while you read for a bit – there's a sharp knock at the door. That makes you jump and spill the remains of your glass down your front. That doesn't register, though, because the door opens again, without waiting for a reply. You groan at yourself for once again not fastening the safety chain.

A stern looking woman enter, followed by the stranger, who, you notice, looks almost ashamed. "You're in this gentleman's room." It's a statement, but she might as well have yelled why are you here, you creep?

"Um, what?" You desperately try to jump-start your brain; this is definitely enough excitement for one night. After all, it is past midnight, and by all means you should be sleeping now.

"This is not your room," the woman says, in a voice that shows clearly what she thinks of you.

A frown appears on the man's face, and you squint between them. "What, yes it is." Your voice is breathy, and with a sigh through your nose, you grab the folder on the desk and pull out the papers from the check-in. "See, here? This is my name, that's the room number –" Suddenly your stomach plummets. What if you are in the wrong room? But the key card worked… A glance at the still open door – no, right room. You let out a small breath.

The woman grabs the papers and studies them, while holding out her hand to the man, wiggling her fingers when he doesn't respond. He fumbles with his bag and produces a set of identical papers. She compares the two, the furrow between her eyes deepening every second.

Finally she looks up. "My apologies. It appears there's been a misunderstanding," she says, her voice a lot softer than earlier, tired. She turns to the man behind her. "The room has been double booked or something."

That much is obvious. He nods. "Yes. Will you find me another room, please." He speaks softly too, and the panic that threatened to overcome you earlier subsides a little. He is just another weary traveller – of course he isn't here to hurt you. That thought seems quite silly now, or maybe that's the drink talking.

"Sorry," the lady says flatly. "There are no vacancies." She winces slightly, as if she prepares to be yelled at.

His shoulders slump, and he lets out a small groan, looking at you, then at her. "But…"

You smile apologetically and take another sip of your drink. It is empty, and you grimace from the embarrassment.

"However," the woman says after a pause, visibly relieved that neither of you seems to be the shouting types, "since it's so late, and you probably won't find a room anywhere else tonight, what with the festival and everything, I can probably set up something in the lobby. We have a few partition walls and –"

He scrunches his eyes shut and grimaces, and you feel sorry for him. He is a stranger, and you were in the room first, but it's not his fault that the hotel screwed up. Sleeping in the lobby is not an alternative. Your mother raised you better than that.

"Wait," you interrupt her, and they both turn to look at you. This is probably a bad idea, but the man looks nice enough now that the shock has diminished. His eyes are kind and tired and though he holds himself with authority, he keeps a respectable distance from both you and the other woman.

Gesturing to the unused bed next to yours, you try a smile and sigh when you feel it's just a grimace. "If… if it's okay with you, it is with me. You can have that bed tonight. And then we'll sort it out in the morning."

The woman's face relaxes, and you wonder how many rules she offered to break to keep you happy. The man frowns, as if he doesn't quite understand what you're offering. Maybe he doesn't, maybe he doesn't speak English very well. Then he gives you a flat smile. "You sure?"

Are you? "Yes," you answer, not at all sure, but it's too late to change your mind now.

"Well then, I bid you both a good night, and I'll leave a note for the morning staff, Mr Barnes." The woman leaves the room and shuts the door with a soft click.

"Y/N." You nod, hoping you look relatively normal, though you feel everything but, with your glasses askew on your nose, a tattered t-shirt and no bottoms. Awesome. At least the shirt is long enough to cover your butt.

The man remains by the door, looking forlorn and confused. "Bucky." He looks everywhere but directly at you, and for that you're grateful.

"Please," you say with a small nod, gesturing to the bed and the light switch on the wall beside him. "I'm really tired…"

Carefully you get back into bed and tucks the blanket tight around yourself, feeling a bit dizzy from what just happened. But you are really too tired to care at the moment, and the soft pillows are screaming your name.

Turning over on your side, with your back against the windows, you pointedly yawn and close your eyes to give the stranger some privacy. Seconds later you hear the soft thump of a duffel bag hitting the carpet, and a small click. Then the bathroom door opens and the man shuffles in.

As the door shuts, you dare to open your eyes again. He's switched off the light, but there's a small sliver leaking under the door, and you see shadows move over the floor. There is something soothing about the noises of running water and the clacks of his belongings on the marble countertop, and it suddenly occurs to you how much you miss travelling withsomeone.

Once he's done and the bathroom door opens, you close your eyes again. The bed creaks under his weight, and the sheets rustle as he gets in. Something heavy hits the headboard, but not long after, he settles.

You sneak a peek through half-open eyes. The man is handsome. Sharp, but gentle features, a calm face, but he's lying on his back, stiff as if he's unused to the luxuries of a bed. His arms are on top of the blanket, and in your sleepiness you wonder why he's keeping his gloves on when he's sleeping.

"Good night," you offer gently, before sighing and pulling the blanket over your ears. The warmth and muted sounds give you a sense of safety, though it is minimal.

"Good night," he replies. "And thank you."

You wake up earlier than usual. The red numbers on the alarm clock blinks 06.38. Something feels off in the room, and for a fraction on a second you feel panic rise in your chest, but then you remember the night's events. The panic fades into a vague discomfort, and you grab your glasses. The man, his name is Bucky, hadn't he said so, is still sleeping, his gloved hand under the pillow and one foot dangling over the edge of the bed. It's kinda adorable.

As quietly as you can, you get out of bed and tip-toe to the bathroom, collecting your clothes on the way. You quickly change and put on contacts, leaving the glasses by the sink, not really daring to take a shower with the stranger in the room next to you. Instead, you splash water in your face and drag a brush through your hair, and with a short glance in the mirror, you deem yourself presentable.

Careful to bring your wallet and your key card, you exit the room and walk briskly to the elevator. The trip down to the lobby only take half a minute, but it feels like an eternity, and once you step out of the door, you're met with a buzz of voices from the lobby. Oh, yeah, the festival.

Luckily there's not much of a queue. Most people are on their way out, or to breakfast. The staff are too happy and smiling for it to be this early, and they're chatting and laughing with the guests, pointing their way to the restaurant or showing places of interest on the map on the counter.

"Good morning, what can I do for you?" one of the receptionists chirp.

You wince internally and focus on bringing a neutral expression to your face. It's not easy, as you'd rather be back in bed. "Yes, uh, I don't know if the night employee let you know, but there was a mix-up with my room last night."

The receptionist frowns, then smiles apologetically. "Ah, yes. There's a note here. Room 508, right?"

You nod. "Yeah."

He calls over his colleague, and motions for you to wait a moment. They talk silently together, sometimes gesturing to the screen, and then he starts typing and scrolling. "Looks like," he says, interrupting himself. "Yeah. Oh god. Lisa, will you look at this?"

His colleague looks at the screen over his shoulder. "Oh, jeez. Really? She's so gonna get fired, for sure," she mutters, then look up at you. "Yeah, so there's definitely been a mix-up. It looks like housekeeping accidentally marked Mr. Barnes' room as occupied when they had cleaned it. It shouldn't be possible, but to me it looks like… a glitch in the computer system –" She lets out a guttural groan, most likely thinking about the amount of work she now faces.

The one behind the screen clears his throat and gives you what is probably supposed to be a disarming smile, then continues to type. "So, I've updated the database with Mr. Barnes' new room, and yours of course. Would you accept a refund of the night, and a meal in the restaurant, free of charge, of course?"

You nod again, unable to find the words to express how not okay this whole thing has been. "If you offer the same to Mr. Barnes," you say, not sure where that comes from, though when you think about it, he's probably had just as rough a night as you.

"Of course. Here's his new key. Would you mind bringing it to him?" The receptionist's voice trembles ever so slightly, but he keeps the smile plastered on.

"Yeah. I can do that. Thank you for figuring out what happened." You inhale deeply, and rub the back of your neck. Your shoulders are stiff and the beginning of a headache murmurs along your temples.

Now that everything is resolved, you feel weirdly chunky. You drag your feet, your head feels like it's filled with cotton, but there's a lightness to your chest that you hadn't expected.

Back in the room, Bucky is still sleeping, and you decide to let him sleep as long as he needs, feeling almost protective over the man that sleeps so peacefully in the bed that should have been empty. Anyway, you're up now, there's no need to stay in the room. Just then, your stomach growls. Breakfast, then. And after that… Well, you'll see. You hastily scribble an explanation on a piece of paper, leaving it on his bag along with the new key card, then you hang a do not disturb on the door before you hurry down to the restaurant.

When you get back, stomach full and head light, the room is empty. His bag is gone and the only sign someone's been in there is a bed with rumpled sheets and the slightly unfamiliar, sleepy scent. You sit down on your own bed, surprised that you're not sure how you feel about being alone again. It's probably the shock still lingering in your system, you think, and shake the feeling off before picking up your art supplies and heading out into the city to work.

That afternoon, when you return to your room to change and relax before you start sorting through the day's drawings, there's a vase with hydrangeas on the small desk, along with a handwritten note that says thank you for letting me stay. The ball of blue and purple flowers makes you smile. Bucky obviously is a decent man, and you find yourself wishing you could get to know him, regretting not even peeking at the room number on the key.

It doesn't take long going through the drawings – you've been too distracted, really, to get any good ones done, and the project isn't due for another two weeks, so you don't have the pressure on you to finish it now, so you decide to take the hotel's offer and have dinner in the restaurant. It's a nice place, and you try to tidy up a bit, refreshing your make-up and putting on a clean top that feels nice against your skin.

The waiters all but trip over each other trying to please you, and you figure there's a nice note going with your name. You've always felt a bit uncomfortable eating by yourself in a fancy restaurant, but this time you're determined to just enjoy it, but you've brought a book just in case. And you're partly hidden behind a palm tree, so no staring from other guests, hopefully.

You're halfway through the meal when you feel your face tingling, as if someone's watching you. Stopping mid-chew, you look up. There's no one there. You swallow and put your fork down before glancing over your shoulder. Bucky is seated three tables behind you, but when you look at him, he looks away. Your heart speeds up a bit – christ! You'd forgotten how pretty he was.

He looks up again, and you smile before returning to your meal. At least you can let him know there's no hard feelings. Maybe, if you see him again, you'll pick up the courage to talk to him too.

The food is delicious, and the dessert is simply sublime. How the chef has managed to make the chocolate mousse so creamy and light is beyond your comprehension. Cooking has never been a strength, though you have a few signature dishes, but you know how to appreciate it. The red wine is perfectly paired, and when you're full and satisfied, you're almost ready to go talk to Bucky. But he's not there when you turn. Your heart drops for a moment, but then you remind yourself that he's a stranger, and probably has his own life. All you can do to quench the disappointment, is a short detour through the bar, where you pick up a nice gin fizz, before you head back to your room and call it a night.

The room feels too empty now. The bed is just as soft as it were before, the covers slide over your skin like water, but something is missing. You can't sleep. The room is too silent. The air is too still. You toss and turn and can't seem to find a comfortable position. In the end you roll over on your side, facing the empty bed. Hugging the pillow, you sigh and pull your knees up to your chest. It's too cold. The blanket isn't thick enough to give enough comfort tonight.

Suddenly there's a soft knock on the door. Your heart beats hard in your chest as you cross the floor to look through the peephole. The hallway is empty.

There's another knock, and you jump, bumping your head against the door. It's coming from the other one. The twin door. Slowly, you remove the safety chain and unlock it, opening it just an inch or so.

"Sorry," the person on the other side says.

For a moment you forget how to breathe. The person on the other side is Bucky, smiling sheepishy, and looking like a fucking model in his pyjamas.

"Hello," you answer, resisting the urge to smooth down your t-shirt.

"I just, I just wanted to apologise," he stutters, scrunching his eyebrow together. "For, for last night. I didn't mean to… I mean, I didn't mean to scare you, and the lady in the reception jumped to conclusions before I could explain, and…"

You blink and exhale slowly. "Not your fault," you mutter, too drunk on his presence to articulate properly.

"I know, but still. I'm sorry."

"You're forgiven."

"Good. Okay." His voice drags a bit, and it looks like he's turning away. You're just about to close the door when he turns back. "Listen… Uh, it's… Can I ask you a favour?"

Not ready for the conversation to be over yet, you nod. "Of course. What do you need?"

He grimaces, rubbing the back of his neck and hems and ums for a while. "This is gonna sound… You can say no, of course, but…"

"What is it?" The buzzing has returned to your ears, and you have to focus to hear what he's saying.

Bucky mutters under his breath, it looks like a screw it. "Last night was the best night's sleep I've had in, well years. I was wondering, maybe, if… if I could sleep in your room again."

You're a bit taken back by that. "What?" Your voice is squeaky.

"Yeah, no, of course, I understand." He smiles and inhales deeply. "Good night, Y/N."

It takes a second for your brain to unscramble. "Wait. Yes, I don't mind. It's nice with some company," you wheeze, holding the door open, though a small voice in the back of your head tells you that this is crazy. Not crazier than last night, you interrupt yourself, and open the door fully.

There's uncertainty in his steps as he enters your room, invited this time, unsure if he's heard correctly, but your smile makes him warm inside and he quickly crawls under the covers.

You leave the door ajar, and with a giddy smile and a racing heart you return to your own bed, climbing in with more grace than you thought you possessed. This is nice. The room is settled, it feels natural. You exhale and turn over on your side, facing Bucky. He's facing you too, and there's a sleepy smile in his eyes. As you place your glasses on the nightstand, he closes his eyes.

"Thank you," he breathes.

"Sleep tight, Bucky," you answer, but he's already drifted off, soft snores filling the room. You feel oddly at peace.

Part 2

#bucky barnes x reader #marvel #bucky barnes #fluff #sleeping #misunderstandings #hotels #oneshot #fan fiction #fanfic

107 notes · View notes

dancingazaleas · 3 years

Text

𖨆. 06 / all for us

summary: you wake up in your room, and you can’t help but try again. even if you might meet a strange doctor and their assistant.

note: another dark chapter. please read the warnings.

taglist: @voltairelesecond @baelo80 @the-sun-baby @stupid-stinky @uniquepickle @ascybous @messyhairday-me @saturnalya @megumitodoroki @kouyume

word count: +2.5k

warnings/notes: cursing, mentions of self harm, mentions of suicide attempt, blood, suicidal thoughts, panic attack, suicide attempt, medical inaccuracies, a little graphic detail of glass being pulled from skin

YOU'RE disappointed whenever you awaken from your temporary slumber. you were sure that you were close to death with that blade on your vein, but it turns out you were wrong. well, that's what you think until you look at your arm.

each one of the cuts is stitched up neatly while the bandages trying to wrap around them are loose. you sit up while inspecting some of the bloodied bandages on your hand, must've been from whenever you broke the mirror.

you sigh sleepily, staring at the bedroom door in hopes that someone will come entertain you even just for a moment. luckily, your wish is granted whenever you watch erwin slip into the door silently.

he's trying to be silent, that much is obvious by how he's not wearing any shoes and instead socks along with him shutting the door gently. he turns to you, flinching at how your eyes bore into his head even as you lay down.

"you're awake it seems," he smiles and sits on the edge of the bed, large hand caressing your pale cheeks.

you start to sit up only to be fussed at by erwin, who softly shoves you back against the bed.

"how am i still alive," you stare into the ceiling.

"when you passed out, we managed to get ahold of our friend that's a doctor," of fucking course. of course they'd have a doctor friend, how the fuck else would they get roofies?!

"when can i get out of bed," you lay your hands on the collar around your neck.

"tomorrow, we didn't expect you to wake up today."

"how long have i been dead for?"

"an incorrect term to describe you, however you've been out for a day. our friend told us with your mental struggles it might take longer for you to wake up," he sighs and rolls his head while a gentle smile forms on his face.

"can you turn on a show for me? don't care what," you look to the ceiling fan.

"of course," erwin says in slight concern. he'd expected you to, at the least, shed some tears, whether it be from happiness or sadness. but you weren't reacting at all.

"you know.... when i was younger people didn't like me," you sigh, "but i was okay with it. as long as i didn't get hurt, i didn't care all that much."

"why are you telling me this?"

ignoring him, you let out a small and bitter chuckle, "when i got into high school, i made friends with a boy who had a twin brother. his name was marcel, he was so sweet and kind.

"he's dead now. it tore his brother apart, i'd never seen porco in that much pain before."

mistakenly, erwin ponders, "how did he pass?"

it's the first time you turn your head to stare at him with those dead fish eyes of your's. you looked almost sinister as you burned holes into erwin's head.

"suicide."

erwin left your room with stiff shoulders that night.

————

two days later, you're standing to look at yourself in the bathroom mirror. you're surprised they didn't take the glass away from you, but you're sure it's for brushing your teeth or something.

as you stare at yourself, you allow your shoulders to shake as they hold up your arms leaning on the sink.

you wonder what your friends would say at seeing you like this. so desperate to get out that you're willing throw away everything you have just to get it.

there's an itch at the back of your mind, festering up against the walls over your brain.

'they'd think you look pathetic,' the itch, now a voice, whispers.

"porco wouldn't," you whimper. porco's been through this process before, he gets it, he understands. right?

'marcel died by his own hands in order to cleanse himself from his sadness. he'd look down upon you for comparing this to his case,' you squeeze your eyes shut and put your hands over your ears.

"pieck wouldn't. she's by my side forever," you sob.

'pieck fought with you before your disappearance. she called you a fuck-up. look at yourself, you'll find that she's right,' and with bated breath you look up.

you sob, shooting your arm back that's clenched into a fist. you punch the glass, which flies all onto your arm and hand. you storm out of your bathroom in fear, stumbling as you look at the stool used for your vanity.

you take it hastily, setting it up the ceiling fan and standing on it. with rushed movements, you wrap the chain connecting with the metal collar around the base of the fan. you step off of the stool, kicking it away with your foot while you choke.

you're starting to black out when you see levi run in with erwin, and you pray to the heavens that you'll wake up in hell.

————

once again, you're disappointed. you whimper weakly while crying, you just wanted to die. you don't want to be trapped in here anymore, you just want to escape.

your throat burns. and before you can try to test your voice, someone's unlocking the door while letting out an almost wicked laugh.

the door swings open to reveal a person, who's long brown hair is pulled into a messy ponytail and wearing circled glasses on their face along with an eyepatch. behind them follows a much meeker man, one that's reprimanding their actions as they shout loudly in excitement at the realization that you're awake.

"moblit!! she's already awake," the person hoots to the man behind them, who you're going to assume is moblit.

"i can see that hanji! now, quiet down! you're probably scaring her," moblit scolds the person named hanji, who ignores the warnings.

"hello, my darling~! i'm your doctor, hanji zoë but feel free to call me hanji! do you have any recollection of what happened," they sing excitedly, shoving their face close to you.

you nod nervously, who the fuck was this person.

"i apologize for their behavior, they act almost as a dog," moblit emphasizes while pulling hanji away by their shoulder.

"we came to see if you sustained anymore damage onto your body besides your neck," he looks you over.

you hold up your hand, smeared with your dry blood. hanji gently takes it into their hands, frowning deeply at what they see.

"get my tweezers for me, moblit. she's still got some tiny pieces of glass in the wounds. i'm sure that's why you were hurting so bad before we came in, huh," hanji attaches a magnifying glass to their glasses while slipping on medical gloves. you'd just woken up, but you weren't gonna tell them that.

moblit hands them a tray along with tweezers, not to mention hydrogen peroxide.

"tisk tisk! that shorty and eyebrows really don't know how to put hydrogen peroxide in! losers," they cackle at the end, which has moblit slapping a hand down onto their shoulder.

"alright alright!" they smack it away, taking your hand—palm faced down—gently while adjusting their magnifying glass.

you scream as they start to pull out a piece of glass, not exactly expecting them to be either big or long. you sit up on your elbow to look, you don't exactly trust this person.

your scream has levi and erwin bursting in the door just as hanji pulls out a smaller piece of glass, that they had to dig a bit for and it made you cry.

"what'd you do?! what are you doing?!" levi bombards while erwin rushes to your side.

"well, i'm trying to concentrate on getting some of this glass out of her skin. unless you want it to get infected, i'm going to continue. it just hurts," hanji says in frustration, bringing your hand closer to their face.

"oh, thank god," erwin sighs in relief but immediately jumps at the sound of your teary shout.

"it's okay, you'll be okay," he reassures, wiping a tear away with his thumb.

bursting with slight anger and immense pain, you snap at him, "don't you think i know that?! it just hurts!!"

both erwin and levi look shocked at your outburst just as you hiss in pain again.

sighing, hanji looks at you, "okay, i saved this one for last since it'll be the most painful to get out."

"just get it over with," you sob, squeezing your free and bandaged hand into a fist.

you knew it was going to hurt, they'd just told you. however, you didn't realize that somehow a piece of glass managed to get stuck in the wound with one side of it being lunged under unharmed skin. it was like trying to get out one paper out of a stack.

you scream again, letting yourself fall onto your back again and swinging your arm over your eyes. biting your lip, you breathe heavy with shaky sobs.

"this is worse than giving birth," you cry.

"it's definitely comparable," hanji humors you while they poke at the glass.

it makes you chuckle a little, considering they're the one putting you through this.

whenever they pull the piece of glass out, it feels like an immense weight has been taken off you as you relax your body. you hiss at the hydrogen peroxide, but it's much better than the pulling of the glass. you reach up to your collar, only to realize that they've detached the chain connecting to it.

you're frustrated, even more so whenever hanji pulls away from you and acts like this is a totally normal occurrence. you're kidnapped for god's sake, shouldn't they be calling the police?

you let your eyes wander around the room, and when they set on levi, you tense. you scoot away from erwin, since he's on the same side of the bed as him, and place yourself at the edge of the bed.

"alright, we need to talk to you about some things," erwin brushes some of your hair behind your ear, completely ignoring your fear of levi.

"first things first, you can't be trusted alone," levi grunts and leans against the wall with his arms crossed.

"which means, you'll be spending time with levi during the day until i get home or if i request to see you," erwin cautiously and slowly says.

your eyes widen while they shoot between levi and erwin, absolute fear swarming your body.

"i only hit you whenever you disobey," he scoffs, "i believe pain is the best way to teach someone a lesson."

"he won't hurt you unless you give him a reason to," erwin tells you reassuringly. it doesn't work well.

"please, don't hurt me. i'll be good, just don't hurt me," you croak while looking to levi, who softens a bit at the statement.

"don't worry then," he nods, "now go back to sleep. i'm sure you're tired after all that screaming. you'll be with me at eight in the morning."

you nod, shakily grabbing ahold of the remote on your bed and turning your tv on. levi slips out of the room without a word while erwin stays back.

"good night, my love. get some rest," he whispers, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead.

you hum in response, scrolling through the selection of movies on the netflix account levi and erwin provided for you. you choose a rom-com movie, seeing as you don't actually plan on staying up just to watch it.

you turn onto your side and close your eyes.

and for the first time, you rest easy.

the next morning, levi leads you through the home by hooking his pinky with your's. you were slightly thankful at the gesture. he knew that you were nowhere ready to be fully touched by him and that you weren't allowed to leave his side.

you sit on the love seat in his office, shyly taking the tv remote from his hands when he offers.

"watch anything, just don't turn it up too loud," he sits at his chair with a sigh as you scroll through movies on hulu.

you choose the movie footloose while you get comfortable on the couch. you try to ignore the small shivers running up and down your body as you're not covered up with a blanket.

you glance over to one of the bookshelves levi has up against the wall, trying to find if levi had any good reads. but before you could read the titles printed on the spines, a certain book that poked out from behind the others caught your eye.

'memories' the fraying writing was a messy cursive on the spine, something you assume levi wrote.

you get yourself lost in thought while staring at the bookshelf. if the book was in levi's office and in levi's handwriting, that means it has to be a scrapbook. and that it's levi's.

your eyes shine at the realization, but you try not to let it show. you'll wait for levi to get the two of you lunch before you'll look at it.

and so, you wait with patience. it seems so grueling as the time passes and you switch from movie to movie, but you hope it'll be worth it in the end. you hope that it explains why levi is the way he is.

"i'm going to make our lunch. the door's lock behind me since it's a keypad. stay put," levi says with slight annoyance, walking out of the room grumpily.

at the sound of the door locking, you jump to your feet and race to the bookshelf. you carefully pull the book out of its place, immediately flipping it open to the first page.

and there levi was, in all of his glory. levi was a baby in the photo, closed eyes and a peaceful look on his face as he curled into himself.

turning the page, you almost gasp at the image you see. levi's being fed by a gorgeous woman, who you can only assume is his mother. the next picture on the page shows levi wearing raggedy clothes with greasy hair shining in the sun as he crouched to hold stare disgustedly at a bug on his finger.

it made you giggle, but the next photo made you frown. levi, who looked to be at the age of five, was standing next to an older man with a casket behind them. you look at the note written under it.

'mom's funeral,' it reads, and you feel an immense amount of pity.

the next picture is a picture of levi at the age of seven standing in front of a beat up school with dirty and ripped clothing. his hair is long enough to be a mullet in this and his body looks so frail compared to now. levi's face shows not a hint of emotion, instead his eyes stare right through the camera and back at your's.

you jump whenever a book on the shelf falls onto its side. you hiss while rushing to put it back up, and as soon as you do, one from the top shelf falls onto the ground somehow. you hurriedly grab it and reach up to it on your tip toes, but you're barely able to reach.

you curse while you use the bottom of the bookshelf as a stool, not even realizing just how old this thing seemed and how much you weighed.

you sigh in relief whenever it doesn't fall down, it only wobbles a little as you step back onto the ground. you go to put the scrapbook away, but you notice that the stand hasn't stopped wobbling. it wobbles almost hauntingly back and forth, and that's when you realize it's going to fall on top of you.

you gasp while dashing to the floor while you slide out of the way, not even realizing that the scrapbook was being bricked by your arms holding it to your chest.

you cringe at the loud bang it makes as it falls, but the cringe turns to fear whenever you hear the pounding footsteps of levi.

you can't get up on your feet quick enough as he bursts through the door. his eyes dart to you on the floor and then back to the fallen bookshelf.

"what did you fucking do?! are you that stupid?!!" this has to be the loudest you've ever heard levi speak, and it makes you nervous.

tears well up in your eyes as you stare at him, completely petrified at how you might be beaten once more.

you hope levi spares you, just this once.

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chrizbang · 3 years

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1:25 AM. You were sleeping soundly on your bed. RING. You turned around, hearing something interrupting your sleep. RING. You got up from the bed and started to look for your phone. "Hello?" you said, still trying to get conscious. "Y/N?" "It's me." "I know it's late, but I need you to come to the morgue. I had a pickup over a while ago. I started embalming the body but I have to leave now. Can you come over and finish it?" you could hear the tiredness in the voice of your boss. "Uhm...sure, I'll be there in twenty minutes." "Thank you." You grunted, feeling frustrated. You've been working as a morgue assistant for five months and ever since you never knew when you would be able to have free time. You loved your job, being a cold person really helped you out when you had to deal with corpses, but you really wish that the place you worked at would hire more people so they would stop overworking you. You started to get dressed, putting on your jeans and a black t-shirt. You went to the kitchen and drank a cup of coffee, to help you stay awake. You put on your shoes at the door and left. You sat in your car, driving in the middle of the night. You noticed that it was drizzling, you saw on the weather forecast earlier that it was going to rain at night. You looked around, seeing the buildings of your city. It was pretty at night, but you must admit that you would rather be sleeping. You got on the morgue in time, there was no traffic for obvious reasons. You looked for your boss in the office but he was already gone. You decided to just go downstairs and do the job already, so you could leave and go back to sleep. There was a corridor that led to the room where you would take care of the bodies. You took your coat from the cabinet standing there, putting it on. You were tired, your body was hurting, but you had a job to do. You looked around for the gloves, already making a list on your mind of the steps you had to follow to do your job. Still, you had a notebook where you had a list of everything you needed to do, in case you forgot something. You grabbed the notebook. "Get the material like tubbing, syringes, etc," you said out loud. A lady was laying on the embalming station. She was probably in her mid-fifties, her body was covered by a blanket, covering her private parts. You looked at her face, it looked like she was...smiling? You felt a shiver on your spine. You were no stranger to corpses but it was the first time you've seen one like this. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, there was no time for this. You left the materials on the side station, going back to your mental list. That's when you looked at the lady again, her arm was hanging around. You found it strange because you were pretty sure her arms were at the side of her body. You grabbed her arm and put it on the side of her body, again. At this point, you started to feel uneasy. You decided to get this done as fast as you could so you could leave that place. Five minutes later, you already had all the materials gathered to start your work. You chose to take one last look at your notebook, just to make sure that you made everything right. You went to the table at the end of the room, the place you left it the last time you used it. It wasn't there. You looked at the floor, maybe it fell. You looked around the table, on the balcony where the materials stayed, nothing. "What the fuck?" you were so confused, you were sure that you left it on the table. You heard a loud noise that scared you. The rain got stronger and you could hear the sound of thunder. Another one. Out of nowhere, the power went out. You went in the direction of the table to take your phone so you could use your flashlight but suddenly, you stopped. You felt an odd feeling like somebody was watching you. You turned around slowly, feeling your heart stutter in your chest. The place was getting smaller and smaller. You saw the silhouette of the lady, that once was laying on the bed, sitting, looking in your direction. You closed your eyes. You kept your eyes closed for what felt like hours until the lights eventually came back again. You looked at the lady and she was laying down, in the same position as before. "Get it together, Y/N," you said. You went next to her, slowly. Your eyes wandered around her and that's when you noticed your pink notebook, next to her arm. Cautiously, you took it. It was still open on the page you left, but there was something different there.

"Slit your throat," was written there, in capital letters. You dropped the notebook on the floor. You went around the embalming station, keeping your eyes on the lady. She was laying there, smiling. You went to the table, grabbed your phone, and ran to the door. You swore that you could see her eyes open but you wouldn't stay to be sure. You unlocked the door that led to the corridor and went in the direction of the office. "What the fuck just happened?" you whispered. Leaving out of nowhere could cost your job but you couldn't stay there anymore. You decided to leave. Running to your car, getting wet from the rain, you didn't dare to look back. You drove to your house, trying to stay calm. Once you were home, you went inside as fast as possible. You took your clothes off and went to the bathroom to take a shower. You needed to clear your mind. You stayed there for about fifteen minutes, still trying to understand what happened. Feeling the warm water running through your body always calmed you, but not this time. After finishing the shower, you put on the first clothes you saw, a hoodie and sweatpants. You turned on the tv, there was no way that you could stay in the dark. You closed your eyes, trying to go to sleep. Trying to forget about whatever it was that you saw at the morgue. But you couldn't, your thoughts were loud on your head. You still could feel the fear you felt there. You wondered if maybe you could call someone, to stay the night with you. There was only one person you could call, him. You didn't know if you should call him at all, it has been a while since you last spoke to him, but you didn't have a choice. You dialed his number, waiting for him to answer. Is that what you wanted? You didn't know. "Hello?" a tired voice said. "Minho?" "...Y/N?" "Sorry for calling so late..." "Is everything okay?" "Minho, can you... come over?" "Uhm, why?" You sighed. "I don't want to be alone." "Okay," he said before hanging up. You felt butterflies on your stomach, you couldn't wait for him to come. Maybe because you didn't want to be alone, maybe because you wanted to see him. You didn't know. Minho was at your house ten minutes later. You were waiting for him at the door. You could see that you woke him up, his hair was messy and he was, probably, still wearing the clothes he was using when he was sleeping, a hoodie and sweatpants. Just like you. He ran to your door, trying not to get too wet. "Hey," he said timidly. You didn't say anything, just throwing yourself into his arms, feeling his perfume. Minho hugged you back, even though he was taken aback by your actions. "It's been a while," he said. "Are you okay, Y/N?" You pondered if you should tell him about what happened at the morgue, but you chose not to. You decided to deal with it in the morning. Minho went to your room with you, you told him that everything was fine but you couldn't sleep because of the rain. You told him it was making you feel nervous and you didn't want to be alone. "I'm here," Minho said, in a calm tone, trying to cheer you up He was sitting next to you on the bed, your head resting on his lap. "Thank you for coming." "You can talk to me if you want. I know that we didn't finish our relationship on good terms, but... I'm here for you," he

insisted. "Minho, I don't want to talk ab-" "It's okay Y/N, we can talk about some other time," Minho smiled, running his hand on your hair. You felt your heart tighten on your chest, you missed him. You looked at his features. Minho had pretty eyes, you always loved them. His pink lips were so beautiful, you never got tired of kissing them. His forehead was exposed because of his new haircut, giving him a fresh look. He was handsome as always. You couldn't resist anymore, you got up, holding his face with your hand, and kissed him. He kissed you back, with passion, as if he was starving. He licked your lower lip, asking for entrance. You let him, allowing his tongue to slip inside of your mouth. You sucked on his tongue, hearing him whimpering. "Minho," you said, out of breath. "Can you get a cup of water for me, please?" "Okay baby girl," he said before giving you a peck on your lips. He got up from your bed and went to the kitchen. You took the opportunity to catch your breath. Did you really want to have sex with your ex? You didn't have an answer. You were lost in your thoughts when you noticed that Minho was taking forever to come back. "Minho?" you called him. He didn't answer. You got up from your bed and went to the kitchen, looking for him. Once you were at the door of your kitchen, you saw him. "M-Minho?" you stuttered. Minho was standing still in your kitchen. He had his back to you, facing the wall. You couldn't see his face. You weren't able to say anything, feeling paralyzed with fear when you felt that odd feeling again. Somebody was watching you. You looked around, not seeing anything. When you looked at Minho again, he was right in front of you. He had his mouth open like he tried to scream, but nothing came out. You felt your heart beating out of your chest. Through your window, you could see when a flash of lightning illuminated the outside of your house. For one second, you saw her. The lady from the morgue. She was there, smiling at you. You started to cry. One last thunder and the power went out, again. You heard someone laughing. You were still paralyzed, it was pitch-dark but you still tried to see where it came from. Until you felt someone breathing. Right behind you.

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interstellarflare · 4 years

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Bend and Break || Homelander

-PART SIX-

Warnings: Gore, violence, course language, angst.

Summary: People can only bend their morales so far before they break. Homelander is the world’s greatest superhero, and you, a tech analyst, somehow become entangled in his world when he learns that you provide intel to The Boys. He makes it his personal mission to find out exactly what you know, but he never expected such resistance from someone as damaged as you. But broken things can be mended, sometimes in the most unexpected ways possible.

Author’s Note: As a bit of a disclaimer, I have only seen snippets of The Boys. I haven’t actually watched all of it, so forgive me if there are some details that are wrong, as well as the many spelling errors that will undoubtedly be in this series. There is a tag list open for those who wish to be added. I apologise for the long chapters. Gif by @xmichaelmyers

After activating the pager hacking device after you had entered the building, you and Homelander went your seperate ways for the night.

You watched as Madelyn Stillwell hung off of his arm, smiling and pretending that she was actually interested in tonight’s events as Homelander indulged politicians and government officials in small talk. You however, stood in a secluded corner of the room, waiting for your device to break through Vought’s firewalls whilst idly sipping a glass of champagne. You didn’t know how long he had been there, but Black Noir stood by your side, his arms folded over his armoured chest as his suit blended perfectly with the shadows to your right.

You were growing more anxious as time went by. You expected to hear a small beeping noise when your device had finished its task, but the growing fear that the device wouldn’t work caused your palms to become increasingly sweaty. You loosed a shaky breath, taking a small sip of the champagne in your grasp. You found small comfort in the fact that Noir was by your side, grateful that at least someone else knew what you were up to.

From your position in the corner, you could hear various topics of conversation. However, the majority of them were about you. ‘Who was that woman with him?’ You heard someone question, that someone turning out to be the wife of the Secretary of Defence. ‘Who is she? I don’t think I’ve seen her around before’. ‘Her dress is beautiful, no wonder Homelander chose to escort her inside’. ‘He was probably being nice, she doesn’t really belong here’. You felt Noir step out of the shadows and move to your side, his arm brushing against yours as he stood defensive and tall. As soon as he appeared, the conversations about you stopped, everyone averting their gaze to anywhere else in the room but towards you and the Supe. No doubt he would have heard all of the negative chatter his stern stance giving off a pissed off vibe loud and clear.

“Is it normal for you to intimidate people who piss you off?” You asked teasingly, a smirk growing on your lips as you finished the last of the champagne. Noir nodded wordlessly, his helmeted gaze not leaving the gathered congregation before him. You rolled your eyes, laughing quietly as you anxiously peered down at the clutch in your other hand. Still nothing. You huffed through your nose, your anxiety being replaced with frustration. What if all of this was for nothing? What of at the end of the night, the device didn’t go off. What then?

Slow music began to play, a choir of violinists, cellos and various other instruments beginning a long classical piece which you knew would likely last the entire night. “Excuse me, can I have a word?” A toxically sweet voice spoke softly, causing you to turn your gaze and meet the emerald eyes of the blood red reporter from earlier. She smiled a viper’s grin, her eyes turning a shade darker as she towered over over your smaller frame. You blinked in surprise and confusion, unsure as to why this woman was even speaking to you. As if sensing your confusion, her grin widened “I only want to interview you in regards to your entrance with The Homelander himself, it was quite spectacular I have to say”. You laughed breathlessly, unsure of what to do or say. So you shrugged your shoulders “Oh, uh, thank you? To be honest it wasn’t really that-”

“Tell me, is there a secret relationship going on between the two of you behind closed doors?” She pried, her question catching you off guard. You choked, shaking your head in disbelief “I’m sorry? I don’t think I understand” You spoke lowly, standing as tall as your heels would allow. The reporter smirked evilly, knowing that she had gotten under your skin. She stepped closer toward you intimidatingly close with her hands propped on her hips. “Well one would assume that something was going was going on between you two with the way he escorted you inside” She spoke lazily, staring down at you with a bored expression “everyone has been talking about it, you know”.

Your eyes narrowed into a dangerous glare, one that even made the Supe at your side flinch with how much hatred and ice radiated from your form. “He was just being chivalrous-” “Oh, I’m sure he was...” The reporter interrupted sarcastically, picking at her red painted nails through her hooded eyelashes “then again, why else would he associate with someone as dull and uninteresting as you? I mean, look at you. You don’t fit in here, you’re hiding in a corner for gods sake...”

Dull and uninteresting...is that how people saw you?

You tried to maintain your composure, you tried not to take the bitch’s words to heart. But why did they hurt so much?

Dull and uninteresting, boring and plain. You averted your gaze from the reporter’s and casted your eyes across the room. Where your eyes met his. And you knew. You knew Homelander had been listening, given by the stern and unreadable expression on his face. Damn his superhuman hearing, damn him to hell. You could feel him staring after you as you weaved your way through the dancing crowd. You could feel him staring after you as you climbed the main marble staircase, disappearing down the hall and onto a stone balcony. You leaned against the balcony, breathing deeply to try and prevent the tears in your eyes falling.

Why were you hurt so much by this? What did it matter what people thought about you? Why did it matter what he thought about you?

Why? Why did it matter?

It was peaceful out on the balcony, the noise of the Gala inside was nothing but distant rumbles. The music still clear as day. A gentle but cool breeze caressed your skin, brushing strands of your hair out of its well-kept do. Footsteps echoed on the balcony. They were heavy, but taken in a stride that was light and cautious. You didn’t have to turn around to know who was standing behind you.

“Do you think I’m dull and uninteresting?” You asked him, keeping your gaze ahead and on the night cityscape before you. You heard Homelander sigh, but he made no attempt top move toward you. When no answer came, your chest tightened painfully. Of course, he thought you were dull. Of course, he thought you were uninteresting. He was The Homelander. And you...you were just a nobody.

“It’s John...” You heard him sigh out lowly, his tone of voice showing no sign of teasing or malice. With your eyebrows furrowing in confusion, you spun to face The Worlds Greatest Superhero with an expression of pure bewilderment. “What?”.

Homelander chuckled, a genuine sound resonating from deep within him as he stepped toward you, his cape billowing slightly in the wind. “Yesterday...” He began, standing beside you and leaning his hands against the stone railing “you asked if I had another name Homelander, otherwise you were going to call me prick or arsehole. My name is John”. You laughed lowly, nodding your head as you leaned back against the railing with an amused smile. So he did have a name. “It suits you” You responded, looking over at him with a soft smile. John nodded, giving you the same smile in return. “And you know what, any woman that can speak to me with such sarcasm, wit, and foul language, and live to tell the tale, is definitely interesting in my eyes”.

Your laughter echoed out from the balcony and across the city. It was the sweetest sound he had ever heard. It wasn’t like the small sarcastic chuckles, or the amused scoffs you would always give him. This was genuine, this was pure. And he loved every second of it. But why? Why did he enjoy your laugh? Why did he long to see you smile, why did he long to always see you as happy as you were now? You turned to face him again, the frown on your face now non-existent as you grinned. “You know, this is why I don’t leave my apartment” You joked lightly, causing the Supe beside you to scoff. “I don’t think I’ve seen you wear anything other than an oversized shirt and sweatpants” He teased, shying away slightly as you lightly slapped his shoulder. He laughed as you pouted, folding your arms over your chest as your eyebrows furrowed.

The music from downstairs floated up on a graceful wind, a slow waltzing piece that would have no doubt been played at a dozen luxurious events prior to this one. John stood up from his position by the balcony, moving to stand in front of you with a soft smile. “Dance with me” he spoke suddenly, holding his gloved hand towards you with a smirk tugging at his lips. Your expression became more confused as you looked up at him with an expression that couldn’t have been more confused if you tried. “What? You want to dance with me?”.

“Why not? It’s a Gala, we might as well” John tried to reason, rolling his eyes as you laughed loudly once again. Placing your clutch carefully on the balcony, you shook your head slowly as you placed your hand into his own. He immediately pulled you close, wrapping one arm securely around your waist, and intertwining his other with yours. The two of you began to sway slowly, your cheeks flushing a bright red at the amount of limited space between you. Your heart was beating so loud, that you were sure the man before you could hear your heart beating wildly in your chest without his superhuman hearing. The thought alone caused your stomach to flutter. Pushing down your nerves, you forced yourself to look up, and almost fell apart. John was staring down at you with an expression you couldn’t read. No one had ever looked at you like that before, with such emotion, with such raw-

Pain...there was so much pain.

For a split second, you couldn’t breath. The air was taken from your lungs as John flinched, his grip on your form tightening as his eyes widened in pure horror. Blood splattered the front of his uniform, tiny horrifying droplets coating his skin. A strange warmth suddenly spread over your chest, a deep rumbling cough caused the pain to increase. Blood dribbled from your mouth, your blood. You collapsed forward, the world suddenly spinning in dizzying stars. The ringing in your ears became louder and louder, drowning out the terror-filled shouts from downstairs, and John’s frantic cries. You could make out your name on his lips, his arms wrapping around your form as he lowered you to the ground. You were scared, terrified. What happened?

You suddenly felt tired, your eyes becoming heavier with every second that passed. It was cold, so very cold. Everything suddenly became numb, consumed by the agony and pain that everything slowly began to fade. You never saw the figure emerge from the doorway, you never heard what John said to that blurry image of a man.

But the last thing you saw was his furious expression. His blue eyes glowing a bright red in rage, hatred, and pure madness.

Tag List: @lauraaan182 @tardis-23 @freshmakertaco @shilsvampsinger @cynthianokamaria @delicatetimetravelarcade @coloursunlimited @clean-soap @themarch-oftheblackqueen @soft-hargreeves @kennedywxlsh @itskatrinahere

#homelander x reader #homelander #homelander imagine #the boys x reader #the boys #the boys imagine #antony starr

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hopelesshawks · 3 years

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Love and Admiration Part 19- Goodnight Princess

18+ Bakugo x fem!pro hero reader

Summary: (Y/n) has known Bakugo since middle school, admired him since high school, and had a crush on him since the first time they met. Even now, a top pro hero in her own right, she can’t shake her school girl crush. Too bad Bakugo literally has no idea she exists. Well that’s not entirely true… He does know pro hero Mercury exists, but (y/l/n) (y/n)? Never heard of her.

Warnings for brief depiction of sexual harassment (not from Bakugo), unprotected sex, fingering, oral (female receiving), degradation, praise kink, dacryphilia (crying kink), overstimulation, and dirty talk

Masterlist Help Lulu <3

As you walk up to the AHA building you spot Aizawa talking to a man with his back to you in a black bomber jacket, a white hood pulled over the back, with a black baseball cap on. Curiosity drives your feet forward a little faster until you get close enough that recognition finally hits and causes you to slow down again. Even with his back to you you’d recognize Bakugo Katsuki anywhere. Part of you wants to turn around and run home, message Aizawa some half hearted excuse about getting tied up in a villain attack and no longer being able to help out. Before you can though Aizawa notices your arrival and waves you over. “Here’s who you’ll be working with,” you hear your former teacher tell Bakugo and just as it sinks in that Bakugo was also clueless as to who he’d been working with, he turns around to see and your heart skips a beat. Yes he looks unfairly attractive the way he always does but what really caught your attention is his outfit. Right there in the center of his white hoodie is a black Mercury symbol, the same symbol stamped somewhere on almost all your merch and the same one you’ve been using as your profile picture on social media since your debut. Bakugo follows your gaze down to the incriminating symbol, his cheeks going bright red. He mutters out an excuse about tossing bags in the car so he can turn away although you’re a little surprised when he extends his hand out to you expectantly. You consider the man in front of you who still won’t meet your gaze. Hurt still burns unpleasantly in your chest but you hand over your duffel bag and with little more than a sheepish glance and nod as acknowledgment, Bakugo moves to the trunk of the car to load it up. “You and Bakugo can handle this right? I saw the news call you a dynamic duo so,” Aizawa asks and you nod immediately. “Yea, we’ve got this. You got nothing to worry about,” you assure the older man. “Good. Get into town, get some rest, one of the local heroes will fill you in on the situation in the morning,” he explains. You nod your understanding and then go to join Bakugo in the car. Once you’re settled in, Bakugo starts up the engine and pulls off into the night.

The silence is awkward. You stare out the window as the cityscape slowly starts to thin out. Once Bakugo pulls the car out onto the highway it doesn’t take long before you’re leaving the city lights behind entirely. When the silence becomes too oppressive you pop open the glove box and root around until you find a USB port. You use your phone charger to plug in your phone, scroll through to one of your chiller playlists, and press play. Music floats through the speakers and you feel yourself relaxing although a quick glance at Bakugo reveals he doesn’t feel the same. He’d discarded his jacket in the backseat once he’d gotten in the car and, as usual, had pushed the long sleeves of the hoodie up to his elbows. As a result it’s easy to see the tense line of his shoulders and the popping veins in his forearms. His grip on the steering wheel is so tight his knuckles are almost white. You’ll be genuinely surprised if there aren’t permanent indentations of his fingers in the steering wheel by the time you two reach your destination. You’re tempted to just let him stew in whatever emotions he’s feeling at seeing you again for the first time since you’d hooked up, but then your eyes fall on where your hero name is written on the sleeve of his hoodie and you decide you’re feeling just generous enough to break the silence.

“You’re wearing the hoodie I got you.”

“Yea.”

“Why?”

Bakugo’s hands somehow tighten even more on the steering wheel before he bites out “Because I like it,” defensively. You roll your eyes and return your gaze to the window. No one can say you didn’t try. You’re about to give up and lament your fate to the groupchat when you hear Bakugo sigh next to you. “That’s not it. I mean I do like it but I didn’t think your dumb ass was gonna be here and it’s not the only reason,” Bakugo confesses. “Insulting me is not a strong start but what’s the other reason?” you ask. The pause is long before Bakugo speaks up again to admit, “I’ve missed you.” The incredulous look you give him almost makes him wince. “You’re the one who stopped messaging me you asshole!” “I know that!” “Then you don’t get to miss me!” “Well I don’t know what the fuck to tell you cause I do!” “Then why’d you ghost me?” “I panicked!”

Both of you go silent after that particular admission. This time it’s Bakugo who speaks up to break it. “Look I don’t date,” he sighs. “Who the fuck said I wanted to date you?” you ask defensively, your cheeks heating up the slightest bit. “Will you shut the fuck up? I’m trying to apologize.” “Apologize better.” “If you shut the fuck up I will.” “I don’t think apologies are supposed to include telling the other person to shut the fuck up.” “I’m trying here (y/l/n),” Bakugo growls and the almost desperate edge to his voice is enough to make you swallow your next retort, instead motioning for him to continue. “I don’t date and I don’t usually fuck people I enjoy having around. I already fucked up with you enough so I didn’t want to do it again. I panicked and that only made shit worse until I didn’t know how to fix it, ok? People care about me and I’m shit to them, that’s just how it goes. I’m sorry you got caught up in it,” he finally admits.

You weren’t expecting that level of honesty from him, nor were you expecting his answer to be so vulnerable. You turn to face him as much as you can within the confines of the seat of the car and take in his body language. Had he always been this insecure about his relationships with the people around him? Maybe if you hadn’t spent years cataloging his every move and expression from afar you would’ve missed it, but looking at him now he looks cracked open. You get the distinct impression that as small as his list of people he likes is, the list of people he’s allowed to see him like this is even smaller. “That’s not true,” you offer but that only makes Bakugo scoff. “It’s not!” you insist. “I don’t need your fucking pity,” he grumbles. “Jesus Christ you really are an idiot. Midoriya, Kirishima, and Denki all have plenty of other friends asshole. If what you said were true they would’ve dumped you a long time ago so cut the pity party bullshit and give me a real fucking apology so I can forgive you already,” you insist, and it reminds you a little of how he’d encouraged you during the reunion. The glance he shoots you is calculating, as if trying to assess how much you mean those words. “You’re going to forgive me?” he asks skeptically. “With an actual apology? Yea. I swear to god you’re the only one who still sees you as the same person you were when we first got to UA,” you reply with a roll of your eyes. “I’m sorry for ghosting you,” he grumbles out, cheeks slightly flushed as he does so. “Good. You’re forgiven. Now what songs should I play the rest of the drive?”

The ride gets a lot easier after that. You’ve missed Bakugo and it’s nice slipping back into the groove the two of you seem to have with each other. He talks shit about your song choices but you still catch him humming along or tapping the steering wheel to the beat a few times. He reveals he got around to finishing your favorite movie and so you guys spend a long time talking about that and your recommendations for other movies going forward. It’s comfortable and before you know it Bakugo is driving past the welcome sign for the tiny town the two of you will be working in. There’s only one hotel. It’s small and could probably use some updating but it’ll do just fine for the short duration of your trip. As the two of you grab your bags and start to head inside Bakugo asks “What are the odds the old man sprung for us to get our own rooms?” “Doubtful, you know the association is cheap as fuck. It has to be. You’re stuck with me,” you tease. “Guess that ain’t so bad,” Bakugo shrugs, which causes your heart to pound a little harder in your chest. “I’ll check us in if you wanna grab some shit from the vending machine,” Bakugo offers and you easily agree, the two of you heading in opposite directions to complete your tasks.

As you make your way over to the vending machine you catch the attention of a middle aged man, likely another guest, who follows you over that direction. “Well hello beautiful, what’s a pretty little thing like you doing around here?” he calls as he makes his way over. You roll your eyes but otherwise ignore him as you instead focus on selecting something from the machine in front of you. “C’mon hot stuff, don’t ignore me. I can tell you’re a big city chick, probably been around the block right? What’s one more?” he insists, sliding his body in front of you. “Do you mind? I’m trying to grab something,” you reply as levelly as possible. It’s moments like this where you hate the spotlight of heroism. You would love nothing more than to make the man blocking your way move but that would be unbecoming of a role model for future generations. “Aww don’t be like that doll, lighten up,” the man grins before having the audacity to move away from the vending machine just enough to smack your ass. You are livid, your hand immediately grasping hold of his wrist to stop him from touching you again. You whirl on him to tell him off but before you can he’s being wrenched out of your grip and violently tossed to the floor. Before you can even fully process what’s happened Bakugo stands like a wall between you, all fury and fire and brimstone. You haven’t seen him this angry in a very long time and even if the man who’d been hitting on you doesn’t know who Bakugo is, the glare and overall body language is still enough to have him cowering at Bakugo’s feet. “If you ever fucking touch her again, if you so much as fucking look at her, I will make you wish you were never fucking born,” Bakugo growls out and god maybe you do have a murder boner like Nejire said because you should not find any of this hot but you definitely do. The older man scrambles to his feet with a nod and runs off with barely a glimpse behind him and certainly not one in your direction, allowing you and Bakugo to heave a sigh of relief. “I know you had that handled but dude pissed me off,” Bakugo explains. His voice is still rough and anger-laden and you try to ignore the way it sends shivers down your spine. “Thanks Bakugo,” you reply, grateful both for his defense of you and his acknowledgment that you don’t need defending. “Katsuki,” he corrects you immediately. “What?” “You’re not mad at me anymore right?” “No?” “Then call me Katsuki,” he insists gruffly. You can only nod in response, afraid that if you open your mouth something embarrassing will come out of it like how incredibly fucking hot it was watching him defend you or how saying his first name right now is bringing back a few too many memories of when he’d first demanded you use his first name in the alley.

Bakugo leads you to your room as you try in vain to rein in your rampant thoughts. Even as you finally arrive all you can think about is the feeling of his lips on yours, the feeling of him filling you up, and what it was like to, for a moment, be the sole owner of his attention. He tosses his stuff on his bed and sits down as you move towards your own but your mind insists on picturing him fucking you relentlessly into it. “What’s up with your face dumbass?” Bakugo suddenly asks and the question makes you jump about a foot in the air, warmth filling your cheeks as you realize you’ve been caught mid-fantasy. “Nothing is up with my face!” you defend and you hope it’s the truth because you can feel how much wetness has pooled in your panties already. Bakugo rises up and stalks towards you and you can’t help but feel like prey, stepping backwards away from him until he’s got you crowded up against the wall. The similarity to that day in the alley is not lost on you and it only makes things worse. “What’s running through that head of yours princess?” he asks and the nickname is too much, a breathless curse slipping past your lips unbidden. You don’t have much time to be embarrassed by how obviously flustered you’re getting because one of Katsuki’s hands finds your waistband as if on instinct at the sound of you breathless. “If you don’t stop I won’t be able to hold back,” he admits and you can tell by the flush in his cheeks that he means it. “I thought you don’t sleep with people you like,” you reply with bated breath. “You’re the exception,” he growls out, pressing closer before seeming to think better of it and closing his eyes, breathing deeply through his nose as if trying desperately to control himself, before adding “if you want to be.” “God yes,” you reply and no sooner have the words left your mouth is he pressing a bruising kiss to your lips as if he’s been quietly suffocating and you’re the last bit of oxygen left.

Katsuki tugs you away from the wall and you go easily, allowing him to push you towards your mattress until you’re lying down on it and he can comfortably hover over you, his lips barely leaving yours the entire time. It doesn’t take long to get you both down to your underwear, the entire process a blur. “You’re such a fucking mess for me princess,” Bakugo practically purrs as he runs his fingers along the damp fabric of your panties. Your hips buck up into the attention eagerly as you nod your agreement at the statement. “Yea, it’s only for you,” you tell him breathlessly and it might’ve been embarrassing if not for the way it draws a deep, satisfied growl from Katsuki’s chest his mouth dropping to your neck and then your chest and working further and further down. “Think you deserve a better apology then I gave you in the car,” he says suddenly looking up the length of your body to find your eyes. “What do you mean?” you ask with what little breath you have in your lungs. “I’ve always been better at doing shit than talking. You thought that apology before was good just wait,” he grins up at you cockily and it already has your stomach doing somersaults even before his teeth find the waistband of your panties and start tugging them down your legs. The moan you release at the sight is completely unfettered as your already dripping wet pussy clenches desperately around nothing. Katsuki is nothing if not a tease so even once he’s done with your panties he doesn’t immediately head to the main course. He lavishes attention on your inner thighs, leaving countless hickeys in his wake but no matter how much you whine and squirm he shows no signs of moving his mouth to where you really want it. “Katsuki,” you finally whine desperately. “What is it princess?” he asks and you can feel him smirking against you, the bastard. “I don’t think apologies are supposed to be teasing like this,” you pant. “Oh really now? You got something to say about my apology princess?” Bakugo asks, the smirk sliding away. “I think you’re not much better at this kind of apology than spoken ones.”

That was the wrong thing to say.

“I didn’t realize my princess was such a whore. You want my mouth that bad? You want to cum that bad?” Katsuki asks and there’s an edge to his voice you’re pretty sure means trouble for you but you nod anyway. “Please Katsuki.” “Well if my princess wants to be a greedy fucking slut then so be it,” he agrees in that same lethal tone before diving in to devour you with an intense voracity you’re unprepared for. You moan loudly, hands grasping hard onto the blankets as he licks a hard swipe all the way from your twitching hole to your sensitive clit before pulling the nub into his mouth and sucking hard. He continues to lave attention on your sensitive clit even as he shoves two fingers into your dripping cunt and starts setting a brutal pace. Eventually he brings his free hand to take over for his mouth and stimulate your clit while he moves his tongue to join his fingers, stuffing you absolutely full. The attention is almost overwhelming and it isn’t long until you’re seeing stars, crying out Katsuki’s name. As you come down from your high you realize Katsuki is still pumping his fingers slowly in and out of you. “Katsu- ah!” you cut yourself off with a shout as he resumes massaging your swollen clit. “S-slow down,” you moan but if anything it only makes him move his fingers more aggressively. You grit your teeth, grasping the blankets even more tightly. “What’s wrong? Thought you wanted this,” he taunts as he pushes you into your second orgasm of the night.

Your entire body is tingling now, thoughts filled only with Katsuki, but he still hasn’t stopped and you’ve never been so overstimulated in your life. “Kas’ki ‘s too much,” you moan, eyes watering as he continues to relentlessly massage your almost painfully sensitive clit. “Don’t tell me my greedy little slut is done already. I still haven’t filled you up yet,” he teases you as he finally removes his finger only to line his dick up with your entrance instead. “Come on baby, I think you’ve got one more in you. Don’t you want to be good for me?” he asks and every inch of your body is saying that you should tap out but instead you find yourself nodding. “Use your words baby.” “Wanna be good for you,” you pant and the devilish grin you get in response has your heart practically in your throat. Slowly but surely Bakugo starts pushing into you. It’s so much, too much, stimulation but even as tears start to run down your cheeks you can’t bring yourself to tell him to stop. He curses under his breath as he finally bottoms out inside you, taking a moment to collect himself so it won’t be over too soon. As he starts moving he lavishes you with praise while all you can do is whine and whimper, alternating between barely intelligible expressions of how fucking good it all feels and broken cries of his name. “God you look so fucking beautiful like this. You know that? Fucking gorgeous,” he groans as his hips move faster and faster. You can tell when he’s close, his rhythm starting to get sloppier. “You ready to give me that third one baby? Can you do that for me?” he asks and you nod frantically, coasting along that razor thin edge between pleasure and pain. He leans down to kiss you then, swallowing each broken sound you make, as he rocks into you harder and harder until you’re both too strung out to do much more than pant and breathe into each other’s mouths. You topple over the ledge first but Katsuki isn’t far behind, your walls fluttering and clenching around him. You sob out his name one final time as praises pour from his lips about how perfect you were for him. “Knew you could do it for me princess. So good for me,” he sighs as he continues to paint your insides white.

When Bakugo is finally spent, he rolls over and practically collapses next to you. You both have to take a minute to recover, chests heaving as you try to catch your breath. Unsurprisingly, Bakugo recovers first so he carefully pulls back the covers before bringing them back up to drape over the two of you. “You good?” he asks, eyes scanning over your body as if trying to catalogue any damage he might’ve done. “More than good,” you sigh contentedly. “Good. C’mere,” he commands and you’re more than happy to oblige, allowing him to pull you against his chest. He carefully wipes the tears away from your cheeks before wrapping you more fully into his arms. “I take back what I said,” you mumble into his chest, exhaustion creeping in as the steady beat of his heart starts to lull you to sleep. “What are you on about now?” he asks, but the fondness in his tone belies the harshness of his words. “You’re fucking amazing at apologies,” you mumble. “Shut up and go to sleep dumbass,” he replies but you can practically hear the pleased smirk in his voice.

“Goodnight Katsuki.”

“Goodnight Princess.”

A/N: Apologies are difficult for Bakugo. He’s a very actions speak louder than words kinda guy. Also as funny a trope as the whole “forced to share one bed at a hotel/motel cause there are no other rooms” trope is, it’s more meaningful to me if there are two beds and they still choose to share.

Taglist: @pixelwisp @oliviasslut @larkspyrr @heroacadema @kozukatsuki @captaincyberqueen @undead-nyx @ineedtofocusfr @i-heart-fictional-boys

#hopelessla #bakugo smau #bakugo x fem!reader #bakugo x y/n #bakugo katsuki #hopeless.thirst

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haworthiaace · 4 years

Text

Magic Misfits AU

Ok so basically we made an au based off of the fact that Scar kept calling his village the village for magical misfits. Scar finds out that he somehow ended up on a server for magical misfits, and now he’s created a sort of safe haven within the server, so naturally they flock to it. Some hermits don’t surprise him, the ones that don’t really bother making an effort to hide their magic, or the ones who can’t hide it. But some hermits deeply confuse him. Chaos ensues.

TLDR Scar becomes a magical therapist for the hermits

Scar is a wizard, he doesn’t really specialize in anything besides his crystals, which is why he’s able to help with a variety of magical issues. He ends up becoming the one entrusted with everyone’s secrets and problems, which makes him Stressed, but he enjoys helping his friends.

Both Xisuma and Evil Xisuma are shapeshifters, with the ability to change their appearance, but not their size. X keeps his appearance hidden from the hermits, which of course inspires wild theories ranging from eldritch abomination to biblical angels, but X won’t reveal if any theories are true. The only ones that know are Hypno (explained later) and Scar. Scar found out when Xisuma showed up hurt at his doorstep, without enough energy to keep another form. Scar was sworn to secrecy afterwards, and he deeply enjoys listening to other hermits pester him for answers. X actually just looks startlingly average, to the point that he’s unwilling to reveal himself solely because people expect him to be something a little more intimidating, and especially now with the ridiculous rumours the hermits have started.

EX doesn’t hide his true form (which is identical to X’s), but of course the hermits don’t believe him, thinking that it’s just another disguise, and EX won’t confirm or deny because he thinks it makes them more afraid of him. (It doesn’t) He’ll also frequently try to impersonate hermits to destroy the server from the inside out, but he is a terrible actor (so is X) and rarely gets far in his plans.

Mumbo and Grian are fairies, but they’re originally from different communities (courts? I really don’t know much about fairies) so they don’t know the other is a fairy until Grian’s hermit challenges initiation. They can shrink into a smaller form that has wings, but it takes quite a bit of effort to switch between forms. (also fun fact: if mumbo is a fairy that means hermit challenges is a magically binding contract)

Iskall is just. Completely human. His prosthetic eye is powered by magic, (and maintained by Scar!) but other than that he’s just a dude. However, he has very strange things happen to him all the time because he’s befriended not one, but two fairies, and he hasn’t noticed either one. He finds that he often has abnormally good luck, and his lost objects will mysteriously turn up as soon as he complains to his best friends about it. He asks Scar if he knows anything, but Scar, not wanting to break Mumbo or Grian’s trust, has to play dumb while also helping Iskall with his ‘problem’.

Now this might come as a shock but. Ren is a werewolf. It may not be unique but it is fitting. One full moon near the beginning of season 7, Ren showed up at the village around sunset, and frantically insisted that Scar let him stay the night in an unoccupied house. So Scar let him stay, and the next morning Ren explained his Situation. So now Scar helps Ren be as comfortable as possible on the night of his transformation and the day after they just chill together.

Stress has her potion brewery, and she’s the first one on the list to fall into the category of Not Having Frequent Magical Emergencies; she just goes to the village to hang out because hey why not? It’s cozy, plus Scar helps her brainstorm potion recipes over cookies and hot chocolate. Scar comes to her often needing a potion (usually of the healing variety) because someone Fucked Up.

Tango is also human, but at some point he was cursed, and his vision started to literally turn red until it was all he could see. The curse was halted thanks to Zed and Impulse, but the red eyes still remain. (Though thankfully his vision returned) They aren’t sure what the curse would have done if it wasn’t stopped, and they’d be happy to never find out.

Zed is an elf, and while he does have a little bit of magic, it wasn’t enough to stop whatever was afflicting Tango, so he turned to more demonic methods. When Tango’s sight got really bad, he summoned a demon (Impulse) and offered his soul in exchange for a cure to the curse. Impulse did the best he could, restoring Tango’s vision but leaving the red eyes, and then left with his price. Zed’s health slowly started declining: he had basically no energy or life due to the separation from his soul. So Tango summoned Impulse back and asked for Zed’s soul back, but it couldn’t be returned without reversing the deal, and Zed wasn’t willing to do that. So Tango ‘asked’ Impulse to stay with them for a while so Tango could convince Zed to back out of the deal. It turns out that being near his soul (kept by Impulse) returned Zed’s energy, and Impulse decided he liked these two so they became a trio, and joined hermitcraft soon after.

Quite often 2 members of team ZIT will wake up Scar in the middle of the night because they accidentally did something to the missing member (banished Impulse, sent Tango to the shadow realm, etc.) and they don’t know what to do. Scar has a ZIT protocol. It’s used far too often. They also constantly try to figure out what the more human looking hermits are. They do not often succeed.

At night, Bdubs turns into a sleep paralysis demon looking creature, and he (unwillingly) curses people to sleep for a completely random amount of time. After an Incident with Wels in season 6, (that’s the reason for his ‘nap’) he makes sure to sleep as early as possible every night. He thankfully isn’t affected by this while in the End or Nether.

Alright lads here’s the angsty one. Beef has the midas touch, meaning everything he touches turns to gold. It works much slower on living creatures than on inanimate objects, but it still works on living things so that’s Not Good. He makes sure to wear special enchanted gloves that block his curse while wearing them. At some point he goes to Scar in a panic because he accidentally touched Etho with his bare hands, (Etho handles this surprisingly well) and Scar helps him fix Etho. (It’s minecraft rules. They just cut his arm off and it comes back.) After that they put a curse of binding enchantment on Beef’s gloves.

Cleo is still a zombie, and she sometimes gets Scar to help her with Zombie Problems when Joe isn’t available. The first time she showed up outside Larry with her (severed) arm held in one hand Scar nearly jumped out of his robes, but he’s pretty used to it by now and will just go inside to grab a needle and thread.

Joe certainly is something! Nobody is quite sure, even Scar. All Scar knows is that Joe knows way too much about everything, and yet he keeps asking Scar to help him translate Galactic. (Joe is secretly trying to teach Scar the language because he feels that it’s important for magic users to know, especially ones so versatile like Scar) Joe is some kind of oracle who receives visions of the past, present, and future, which is why he knows so much, and he’s also at least dabbled in almost every kind of magic there is. He’s a bit of a cryptid.

The local mad scientist is Cub, who does all sorts of weird experiments, and makes inventions that combine magic and technology in disturbing yet wonderful ways. He also got cursed by his pyramid, so now he has comically bad luck. It doesn’t usually cause any serious harm, just shenanigans. He of course embraces this and finds it funny as hell.

On top of Doc’s regular strangeness, (creeper hybrid, cyborg, goat whisperer?) he also for some reason attracts a frankly unreasonable amount of kitsunes. Nobody knows why, but he can be seen in the shopping district being trailed by no less than two foxes with varying amounts of tails. It’s really very cute, and the mystery of it infuriates the more investigative hermits. (Cub and team ZIT mostly)

Etho is a demigod, although nobody knows what god he’s descended from. (including Etho) He has the fun ability to grant others’ wishes, but because of his personality he chooses to twist these wishes and turn them into fun little pranks that technically give the person what they want, but not without annoying them first. He also doesn’t reveal this ability to the others, leaving them even more confused whenever he uses it, which isn’t often because it does drain him quite a bit.

False, being the badass she is, is a valkyrie. She towers over most of the hermits, and between her height, wings, and blazing sword she’s quite intimidating. Despite this, she’s still very sweet, and would never seriously hurt her friends on purpose, but enemies are a whole different story.

Hypno at first seems totally human, but he actually comes from a world full of magic, each person having their own individual ability. Hypno’s ability is to absorb/ cancel out magic, which means that no magic can affect him, and he can also choose to stop any magic by touching the target of the magic. This got him exiled from his world, but he found a new family in the hermits. Because he isn’t affected by magic, he can see through Xisuma’s disguise, but he just assumes that he sees the same thing as everyone else. He hangs out with Beef when he needs comfort because he knows Beef can’t accidentally hurt him.

Jevin is,, slime. Not a minecraft slime, he’s just a pile of sentient slime held together by magic. (Necromancy? probably) Hypno likes to mess with him by touching small parts of him and disrupting the magic so a chunk of his arm falls off. Scar then has to fix it, but it’s still funny.

Keralis has the power of hypnotizing people by looking into his eyes. (Nothing but his eyes) He of course uses this power for mischief, although nothing actually bad. Usually uses it to ‘convince’ people to buy a book or seven. He also sometimes does it on accident, in which case he drops them off at Scar’s until they snap out of it. Team ZIT keeps asking him to hypnotize X so he’ll reveal his true form, but Keralis doesn’t want to force him to reveal that, plus he finds their attempts at figuring it out entertaining.

XB is an unfortunately forgetful selkie, and most of his visits to Scar are because he lost his coat in one of his shulker boxes again. On one memorable occasion he arrived in a panic after losing his coat again, and Scar had to spend about 5 minutes trying to suppress his laughter enough to tell XB that it was on him.

TFC doesn’t have magical crises, much to Scar’s relief. He’s just a humble earthbender living in the mines, occasionally coming out to the village to ask Scar for a crystal to help his back pain, or to give the poor man an afternoon of peace. In fact, Scar turns the tables by asking TFC for magical help with terraforming, which he’s glad to offer in exchange for all that Scar does for everyone.

Wels is a bard, which makes his sea shanties even more powerful than they already are. When Hermitgang came out, a hole was blown in the G team base, much to the surprise of everyone inside at that moment. Hels is also a bard, but he prefers rock music over sea shanties. Diabolical was an actual magical duel, and it probably looked sick as hell.

Bonus: Jellie is secretly a powerful eldritch being, and is the only one with magic that can affect Hypno. It’s a good thing she’s interested in getting pets and treats rather than destroying the server, because she probably could. She casually hops between worlds whenever Scar isn’t around, going on delightful little adventures. Scar takes quite a while to figure this out, and loses his shit when he does. When she got struck by lightning, she just turned up totally fine the next day and Scar didn’t question it too much.

I’d like to thank the discord for helping with ideas, ya’ll are so creative and i appreciate you all <3 ( @skywillsometimeswrite @bigbadantianti @justletmeplayminecraft @badtimeswithscar @aceacebaby12345 @litabattoir @icewolfstar @burntmagicc @dicerxll @dioritegang @cut-the-string @anntonka @shadeswift99

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lovemeleo · 3 years

Note

19 & 20 for O'Knutzy? Idk if you're still taking prompts but just if you are.

I love your fics <3

I am still taking prompts! Thanks so much, anon, I’m glad you love them. I hope you like this one as much as you loved the others! These lovely OCs belong to the amazing @lumosinlove :)

TW: injuries and blood

Prompt #19: “Oh god, you’re bleeding.”

Prompt #20: “Hey, just look at me. Breathe.”

_________________________________________

Here they were with 4 minutes left of the final period, and this game seemed to be dragging on. They were playing Colorado, and the score had been stuck at 2-2 since the start of the second period.

Leo stood in front of his goal, watching as the puck flew back and forth across the ice. As he looked up, Leo saw Rantenen heading his way with the puck but then Logan swooped in, stealing the puck out from under him.

The Avalanche player chased after Logan, both of them swinging behind his goal when-

BAM

Rantenen slammed Logan into the boards. There was a scuffle, Logan falling to the ice. Blue eyes watched Rantenen skate away before he realized there was no Gryffindor player following after him. Logan hadn’t gotten up.

“Tremz?” Leo yelled, trying to get his attention. There was no answer. As he skated around his goal, Leo heard the whistle blow behind him, calling a stop to the game.

Logan was sprawled on his stomach on the ice, “Medic!” Leo shouted as he threw his gloves to the side as he tried to get Logan turned over who let out a groan, “Leo.”

Hestia and a couple other medics over seconds later, helping him get the other boy onto his back. Leo let out a gasp as he saw Logan’s face. He must’ve caught one of Rantenen’s skates on the fall, a long gash went from above the left eyebrow down to his jawline.

“Oh god, you’re bleeding.” Leo croaked out, crouching next to Logan as Hestia checked him over.

Logan let out a groan, trying to push her away as she pressed gently over the player’s sides, checking for breaks in the ribs. “It hurts, mon dieu.” He gasped, his head falling back onto the ice.

They brought out a stretcher for Logan as he gasped for breath, the adrenaline beginning to wear off. He brought a hand up to his face, skin going pale as he saw the blood on his fingers, “Oh no. Oh fuck.”

Leo quickly grabbed his hand, wiping the blood off of Logan’s fingers, “Hey, just look at me. Breathe, Tremzy. You’re going to be okay.” He murmured, only letting go once the medics got him on the stretcher, carting him off.

Hestia brought out some gauze, gently pressing it over the gash, “Deep breath, Tremblay.” She murmured as he let out a hiss, fingers gripping at the stretcher as they wheeled him off the ice and down the tunnel.

Leo skated off to the bench where the rest of his team was waiting anxiously as they had to get out the zamboni to clean the ice. “What the fuck happened?” Finn said as he pulled Leo onto the bench.

Shaking his head, Leo ran a hand through his hair, “I’m not sure. It didn’t even seem like that bad of a scuffle, but then I looked back a-and Logan was still on the ice. Hestia was checking his ribs and they seemed at least bruised but.. His face caught the blade of Rantenen’s skate.” He shook his head as he stared at the spot where Logan had fallen.

“I’m sure he’ll be alright. Tremzy’s strong. We’ve just gotta go out there and win this for him.” Sirius said, clapping the boys on the shoulder.

The team nodded, as the zamboni finished, moving off the ice and they were out there.

And win they did. In the last couple minutes, they managed two more goals, one by James and another by Finn, and Leo blocked three goals from the Avalanche players.

As soon as the game was over, Finn and Leo were running to find Hestia. She was of course waiting for them in the hallway outside the locker room after they had changed.

She held up her hands, “He’s alright. No broken bones, just a couple bruised ribs. And the gash. It’s gonna scar, needed a couple stitches but it should heal up within a couple weeks.” She explained, leading them back to her room. “He’s gonna need some help getting around but I’m sure you boys can handle it.”

Opening the door, she led them inside where Logan was laying, “I’ve gotta finish the paperwork, but let me know if you need anything else. I let Logan know how to rebandage the cut and keep it clean.” She grabbed her bag before heading into the attached office.

“Lo, baby.” Finn murmured with a frown as they walked over to the bed. Logan turned from where he was laying shirtless on the bed, the left side of his face was covered in bandages.

“I’m gonna look like fucking Nado” was the first thing that he came out of his mouth.

Finn couldn’t help but laugh, though it was probably out of relief, “That’s not a bad thing. Nado isn’t bad looking, and Kuny certainly seems to like it.” He smiled, brushing his hand through the smaller man’s hair.

Leaning into the touch, Logan let out a sigh, “I guess. Can you help me sit up? I’m sick of staring at this ceiling.” Leo quickly moved in front of him, grabbing his hands and pulling Logan up gently.

“We brought your stuff, did you wanna get something on?” Leo asked, pulling out one of Logan’s hoodies, which he was pretty sure actually belonged to him. Logan raised his arms carefully, trying not to bother his ribs as the other two helped him get the soft material over his chest.

Once Logan had the hoodie on, Finn grabbed their bags, throwing in the extra bandages from Hestia, “Let’s get you home and resting.” He suggested as Leo helped Logan off the bed.

They made their way out to the car slowly and Leo quickly got them home, settling Logan into the bed.

“We’ve got you, mon chou. What do you need?” Leo murmured, sitting on the edge of the bed.

Logan reached out, making grabby hands towards his boys, “Just want a cuddle.” He pouted. They both crawled in next to him, Finn pulling the blanket over all three of them.

Gently wrapping an arm around the other two, Leo pressed a kiss to Logan’s shoulder, “‘m glad you’re okay, mon chou. You had me worried.” He murmured quietly, resting his head on the pillow.

Finn nodded, “Me too, fuck. I had no clue what was happening. Just saw you sprawled out there, felt like my stomach was in knots.” He cuddled as close as he could without hurting the smaller man.

Smiling, Logan looked at his boys, “I’m sorry I worried you. It felt like I was fine one second and then the next, I was staring at the ice. Glad it wasn’t something worse though. Don’t want to bother you both all the time.” He continued.

Leo leaned up on his arm, meeting Logan’s gaze, “Sweetheart, you could never be a bother to us. We love you so much and are here to help you with anything you need. Anything.” He emphasized as Finn nodded his agreement, “Always, baby.”

Shaking his head gently, Logan looked between his two boys, “I’m the luckiest guy in the world.”

Finn intertwined their hands together, “I think it’s a three-way tie.”

#o'knutzy #lumosinlove #sweater weather #coast to coast #leo knut #logan tremblay #finn o'hara #inspired by lumosinlove #fic #angst #tw:injury warning #fluff

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