#you know what superpower they gave her in the show | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

astroboots · 9 months

Text

EVERY YOU EVERY ME #11.5 SPECIAL

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x female reader

Summary: Let’s start from the beginning one last time.

Word count: 5,800

Warning: Heavy angst and character death. Dead Dove do not eat.

Series Masterlist | Spiderverse Masterlist | Astroboot’s Masterlist | thirstworldproblemss’ Masterlist

[Previous] [Next]

Let’s start from the beginning one last time.

My name is Miguel O’Hara, and in an experiment gone wrong, my genetic code was partially rewritten with Spider DNA, giving me superpowers.

My home is Earth 928-C where I was the one and only Spiderman... of my home dimension at least.

I invented and built a dimensional travel device that allowed me to jump between universes with the goal of exploring the limits of the multiverse.

And then I met a woman in this other world who nearly died from a crazy freak accident.

I saved her of course.

Then I saved her again.

And again, and again.

... And again.

We fell in love, and I decided to stay with her in her world.

You know the rest. We got married. We had a life together.

I was happy. Really happy.

For a while.

[Earth 383-D]

3 YEARS AGO

"Goddamn idiot bird," Miguel mutters under his breath.

Vulture is on the loose again, wreaking havoc on the city. The maniac is flying high above the city grounds, leaving a trail of mayhem in his wake.

Miguel's been in pursuit for the better half of two hours. In that time, the bird has derailed the High Line, literally hit a traffic light and managed to knock over the spire on the Statue of Liberty as if he was flying under the influence.

Then somehow flew across town through Tribeca, along Lower Manhattan and Greenwich Village and now reached all the way to Midtown Manhattan.

Dumbass ugly stupid bird.

Miguel digs his claws into the exterior of the limestone and granite of the Empire State Building to steady himself, using the momentum to leap forward.

The Vulture crashes into a skyscraper 50 feet ahead of Miguel, and in the mad dash, he can see a man tumble out of the building head first to the ground from the 30th floor.

Swinging forward, Miguel slings out a web from his palm, catching the screaming and sobbing office worker in midair and lands briefly against the windowpane. He ensures the man is secured to the building in a cocoon of webbing until the fire department can get him to safer grounds.

Miguel doesn't even get a second to catch his breath. From afar, he can pick up the sound of another window being crashed into by the unwieldy metal bird.

Crap.

It's impossible for Miguel to both chase the Vulture and keep everyone else in his path of destruction safe. One superhero can't be in two places at once (none that he has encountered).

Gritting his teeth, Miguel leaps off the building swinging freely into the air to make up on the lost ground between him and the metallic cuckoo bird.

He needs backup, and the backup is unfortunately running late.

Where is he? Why is he always late?

Does that man not understand that when someone calls for backup because of an emergency, the emergency part indicates that there's some urgency to it?

Flying through the air 100 feet above the ground, from the corner of his eyes, Miguel catches the familiar garish red flowing cape that billows from the cowl of the grand cloak and suit.

Miguel would know that weird wizard get-up anywhere.

"Strange!" Miguel calls out, and he can feel irritation rattle in his chest. "You're late! Where the shock were you?"

"The word you're looking for is 'fuck.' Where the fuck was I," the man responds with a sarcastic drawl.

Strange levitates through the air, effortlessly without expending any energy at all as he catches up with Miguel. "You gave me no notice. Be happy I showed up at all."

From a distance he sees the dumb bird soar high up into the sky and towards the all too familiar crowned roof of the Chrysler building.

No. nononono.

Why is he there? What is he doing there? Anywhere but there.

His back flashes cold then burning hot as the Vulture makes a straight beeline for the familiar building.

It’s fine. Maybe he’s not going to fly in there. Maybe he’s just going to fly past it.

Miguel watches as the metallic bird soars up and up and up, past the midpoint of the building, past the 40th floor of your office and up to the 50th floor. The tight squeeze in his chest eases.

Then the vulture stops, mid-flight and looks down below, as if he changed his mind, before he descends again.

Shit! Shit! SHIT!

He dives into one of the windows between the 40th and 50th floor. The sound of broken glass and shrill screams can be heard even from where Miguel is.

Blood freezes in his veins and nausea overtakes him. Calm down. Breathe.. Maybe you’re not in. After all, Lyla’s security protocols would’ve been activated by now if you were. He would’ve been alerted.

Soaring through the skies, Miguel reaches over to his wrist to punch in the dial for Lyla to check in and reassure himself you're safe. But his tracker blinks back in an alarming red, and he darts down his head towards the display.

Error.

His heart stops.

The flying silhouette reappears through the shattered windows and the metallic harness strapped onto the vulture gleams bright against the sun.

It’s only then it hits him. Lyla's been deactivated by the madman's stupid Electro-Magnetic Harness.

Why hadn't he foreseen that as a technical flaw?

Against the reflective glass panes, Miguel sees you, caught in the Vulture talons like a mouse captured by a large predatory bird. Every hair on his neck stands on end. His vision bleeds into red, blood roaring at the sight of it.

Kill him.

Miguel's gonna murder that freak for touching you. Crush his windpipe so he can't ever squawk again, then rip his throat out with his claws and feed it to the street pigeons for good measure.

Launching himself through the air, Miguel tears up the side of the building. The tempered glass beneath his claws and feet, shatters into sharp jagged pieces as he closes the distance.

He is almost within reach. Only some 30 feet that still separates you from him. Leaping the final distance he slams hard into the side of the Vulture until metal crunches beneath his feet.

Miguel roars until his throat burns with it. Palms gripping at the man’s jaw and prying it back to get at his bare throat. His fangs are ready to sink into the jugular. He can see the dark pupil of Vulture's eyes dilate with fear.

Good. Miguel's anger will be the last thing this freak sees.

"Miguel calm down," Strange shouts at him from behind. "You're gonna knock her off."

Miguel freezes at the warning, forcing himself to hold still as he looks down to where you are dangling precariously from the Vulture's claws.

"Be ready," Strange shouts, and Miguel looks to him, not understanding what the hell he means.

Strange rests his hand over the shiny blue gem hanging around a chain from his neck.

What does he mean by be ready? What is Strange going to do?

"What'd you mea–"

Miguel doesn't have a chance to finish the rest of his sentence. An unnatural force vibrates through him. A pulsating wave that pervades his senses, punching through his lungs and knocks him back.

In an instance, you're propelled away from Strange and the Vulture, and you are freefalling towards the ground below.

Miguel leaps mid-air, arms outstretched to catch you as you plummet towards the ground below. His fingers clasps around your wrists, your warm skin against his fingertips.

He's got you!

Taking hold of you by the arm, Miguel pulls you into his chest as he wraps one arm securely around your waist.

Immediate relief fills him from the inside out as the adrenaline and the searing anger is already starting to fade now that he knows you're safe.

"You okay, nena?" he asks.

You nod, arms finding purchase around the back of his neck, and squeeze down tight. He swings you both to the safety of a nearby rooftop.

There's barely time for him to touch the surface, he hears the nearby explosion and sees Vulture crash into the concrete wall of the nearest building.

Strange is levitating nearby, hands making wild gestures, presumably to perform some hocus pocus ritual. There’s a magical glow as strobes of light manifest out of thin air surrounding the Vulture from all sides and wrapping around him in a restraining bind.

Miguel sets you down. You're a little bit wobbly on your feet, and seeing you stumble the way you do has that protective streak spark anew in his chest.

Stupid Strange. He can't just do shit like that.

What if Miguel hadn't reacted in time? What if you had fallen?

This is why Miguel hates working with the guy, even if they’re friends. Always on his moral high horse about Miguel being reckless, then he pulls shit like this.

"Everyone alright?" Strange asks as he levitates through the sky to set feet close to you both on the rooftop.

Miguel grits his teeth with annoyance at the man’s casual demeanor when he nearly threw you out of the sky.

"Shock you, Strange," he spits out.

"Miggy..." you sigh in a reprimanding tone next to him.

Stephen shakes his head at him. "I told you. It's fuck"

"Fuck you, Strange."

Sanctum Sanctorum is closer than home and Strange has, comfortable sofas in his ridiculously big mansion. Big enough sofas that Miguel can actually lounge in them comfortably without it feeling cramped. It's why, given the choice, he always prefer to regroup there, over your tiny apartment.

Besides, while the man's control over his magical powers can be suspect at times, he used to be a doctor. Supposedly one of the leading brain surgeons in the world, and Miguel is a lot more comfortable at the prospect of Strange giving you a checkover to make sure you don't need further medical attention than trying your luck at one of the local ERs.

"Follow my finger," Strange says as he shines a little flashlight into your eyes and moves his index from side to side.

Your eyes follow him dutifully, and Strange proceeds with the rest of his medical check, asking you the boring standard questions. "Any symptoms of dizziness, lightheadedness, or a sense of vertigo?"

He fires them out in rapid succession, and a bit too perfunctory for Miguel's liking.

"Noticed any changes in your vision, blurriness or double vision, etcetera etcetera?"

Miguel's jaw tic in irritation at how Strange is putting in minimal effort and just going through the motions.

"Yeah, you're fine." Strange pats your knees, then whisks the flashlight away into nothingness with his cape.

That medical check wasn't anything close to thorough. Miguel crosses his arms over his chest. "Are you sure? Her feet were wobbly before, I wanted to make sure she didn't sprain her ankle."

"A little bit overprotective as always aren't we?" Strange says.

Miguel shoots the man a glare and Stephen sighs, "Her reflexes are fine, I don't think anything's sprained."

"Check again, you seemed sloppy," Miguel accuses.

"You know, I'm doing this as a favor because you’re a friend. Do you have any idea how much a medical examination by one of the leading neurological surgeons in the world would cost you normally?"

"I'll have Lyla transfer the money."

“No, it’s not actually about money just–" Stephen shakes his head, then sighs. "Nevermind.”

He gestures for you to drape your leg across his lap, then he reaches over to gently assess your ankle as requested.

"What is this necklace?" You ask. You lean closer to Strange, inspecting the blue gem where it rests against his chest.

Strange swats at your hand, the way an adult scolds a child with sticky chocolate smeared hands trying to touch the fine china.

"It's a protection amulet. When activated it forms a protective barrier that forcibly repels everything within ten feet of you."

"Huh," you reach back for the amulet undaunted by the earlier reprimand, fascinated and clearly enamored by it. "I'll give you fifty bucks for it."

Strange looks offended. "It's not for sale, and if it was it would certainly be worth a lot more than fifty dollars. It's a genuine magical artifact, not fake costume jewelry from the theater department."

You purse your lips, considering the amulet.

"Forty," you offer.

Miguel has to choke back a snorting laughter in his throat at the way Stephen's eyes goes wide in confused outrage.

"Wait, why is the price going down?"

“We’re in the middle of an economic crisis, Stephen,” you counter.

Strange's head darts over to where Miguel sits, presumably for backup, but he's knocked on the wrong door. The man must be mad if he thinks that there is ever a world where Miguel would side against you.

"Strange, we both know it’s easier if you just give her the amulet." Miguel says.

The man sighs, shaking his head in defeat.

"Be careful with it," he says as he drags the chain over his head to place it in your awaiting palms. "And don't lose it like the invisibility amulet with Mysterio. Had to spend a whole month clearing up your mess when that creep used it to get into the women's locker rooms at every local gym in Greenwich!"

"That wasn’t my mess! Miggy lost that one during an aerial fight. You can't blame that on me."

"You married him, so you're responsible for him. I consider you two jointly to blame."

"Now you're just lashing out," you shoot back.

Miguel watches the two of you in patient boredom, his head propped up by an elbow on the arm of the sofa. He expended way too much energy during the fight, and now he needs to refuel.

If Miguel leaves you two to it, you'll spend an eternity bantering, the way you do. His stomach growls. He wants food. Wants wantons and beef ho fun and a dozen custard salted egg buns for dessert. And the longer you two are at it, the longer it's going to take for him to get it.

"Nena," he calls out, "I'm hungry. Are you two done? I want to go for dinner."

You shoot Miguel a quick smile, pulling out your wallet and take out a wad of green bills then fold it into Strange's hand with a happy grin.

Strange looks down at the crumpled up money in his hand. "Wait, you're only giving me thirty? I thought we said forty."

"You still owe me like ten bucks from mini golf last week."

Strange pockets the money with a grumble. "Unbelievable."

“C’mon,” Miguel says as he stands up and gestures to the both of you with a curt nod of his head towards the door. “Let’s go. I’ll pay for dinner this time,” Miguel says, and that seems to abate Strange’s outrage somewhat as the man grabs your coat from the sofa cushions and offers it to you.

Life on Earth 383-D is strange.

Life here is borderline primitive. The technology is something out of the stone ages.

Social media is a wasteland. Reality TV is a dystopian concept. And he doesn't understand who Kardashian is or why everyone is obsessed with her and her family.

He does like fax machines though. They are basically teleportation machines and it boggles him that the people of your dimension do not seem to understand its potential.

The one thing he will give this version of earth credit for is that the food here is nice. Everyone in his home dimension is too health conscious, and fried food has long been banned by the government for the long term damage it does to the cardiovascular system.

He also likes the life that the two of you have built together here. You have a home in that tiny shoebox apartment. You have friends. Strange friends. Like the Doctor who flies around with the help of a magic cape and now practices the mystic arts after a gap year in Asia. A young girl whose main superpower is the ability to communicate with squirrels. Then there’s that ugly red-masked wise-cracking, katana-wielding maniac who never dies.

Sadly, your friends are not the only thing that is strange about your surroundings.

Miguel perches himself on top of the Chrysler building sitting hunched over on the ledge of the roof. He’s drained and bone-tired, chasing down a helicopter that had gone haywire and was hurtling towards your office building.

Luckily Strange was able to assist and sent it through a magic portal to crash into the Atlantic without putting any lives at stake.

"Just had to do some cleaning up," Strange says as he sets his boots back down on the ground.

Miguel doesn't answer him, staring out at the city view and the setting sun as he takes a well earned breather for a moment or two. New York is a bit of a shit hole, but it does look pretty from a high viewpoint, especially when the sun is setting, Miguel has to give this city that.

It's silent between the two of them. Or at least it is until Strange decides to break it with a harkle of his throat. When Miguel doesn't react the man does it again, coughing discreetly in a clear attempt to get his attention.

Miguel doesn't say anything about the man's sore throat. He ran out of the lemon drops you bought him as snacks hours ago, but he does tilt his head up at the man.

"She's been getting into a lot of these incidents lately. More than usual, more than any normal human for it to be a coincidence" Strange says.

The whole of Miguel's back stiffens.

"Have you noticed the abnormal uptick in strange unexplainable supernatural occurrences lately? Indoor tornadoes. The rain of poisonous frogs outside of whole foods. A sinkhole appearing right next to the cafe your wife frequents."

Miguel doesn't love the insinuations. Even with his lips pressed tightly together, Miguel can feel the small muscle in his jaw flex like a nervous tic at the mention of it. Because yeah, he's noticed, kind of hard to miss when your wife's life is in constant peril at all hours of the day.

Ice storms in July that hit right outside your workplace. An inexplicable solar flare causing a blackout that had every single vehicle within a 5 miles radius go haywire in the dark near your apartment. A swarm of mutated mosquitoes with a venomous bite that chased you down Central Park.

The incidents are occurring more frequently. They are also getting increasingly bizarre and dangerous.

No one can say it’s just bad luck when the daily occurrences around you are defying the very laws of nature itself. Something isn't right with the universe, and he's not sure what else there is to do except pretend that everything is still ok.

"What are you implying?" Miguel asks through gritted teeth.

But for the first time in the years that Miguel has known him, Strange's talkativeness is nowhere to be found. He doesn't answer Miguel. He's smart that way, the clever bastard. Knows that if he says one wrong word, Miguel is going to unhinge his jaws like a feral alligator and snap at him.

Strange has said what he needed for Miguel to know exactly what he's getting at. The man just meets his eyes with an intentional stare, not shying away from Miguel's glare.

It's not like the thought hasn't crossed Miguel's mind. Not like it hasn't been keeping him up at night, every night.

Even though you've always been accident prone and suffered from bad luck, at this point it's a mathematical impossibility that anyone would run into as many near death incidents as you have.

This isn't by chance. It's by design. Miguel's suspected as much for a while now. He just doesn't know whose design and why.

"It's not her fault," Miguel spits out.

"I never said it was."

"Even if what you are saying is true..." Miguel stops, and stares down at his fisted palms with a sinking feeling in his guts. "There's nothing she can do about it to stop it. You can't put that on her."

"Whether she knows about it or not, if it's true, none of this is going to go away.

Strange walks over to where Miguel is, sitting down next to him.

"It’s been escalating in severity," he continues. "There are strange universal energies attached to her. There’s warping of the universal order and space around her. We don't know how bad this can get, if we don’t do anything about this, it could unravel the fabric of reality itself."

Despite the calamity of what Strange is implying, his voice is even and calm as he says it as if he might as well be discussing the weather. That trait has always annoyed the shit out of Miguel.

"What are you planning to do if this continues?" Strange asks.

It's such a silly question. Strange says it as if this is a multiple choice question. But for Miguel there's only one correct answer.

"Protect her. I have to. She's everything to me."

Miguel is staring into the sunset bu all he sees before him is your face even though you aren’t here. The happy smile that he wants to preserve forever. He tries to fight the ache that's building in him at the thought that it would go away.

"Strange, don't tell her. Please. She doesn't need that burden."

He fists his palms into his side.

Miguel never liked asking for help, but even he knows that if what Strange is saying is true. That if the universe for some unfathomable reason wants you dead, then he's going to need all the help he can get.

If Strange has figured it out. Then it's only a matter of time before others do as well.

Soon enough, you won't just have the universe coming after you but every superhero and villain combined in a united front to take out the common threat that you pose to this entire universe.

Even Miguel knows he can't do this alone and as much as that helplessness tastes like failure and bile in his throat, he can swallow his pride if it helps keep you safe.

"Stephen, you have to help me save her."

From behind, Strange rests one hand on the corner of his shoulder. The weight of it feels like a promise being made. For the first time in a long time, Miguel feels like he can breathe just a little bit easier.

"I will do what I can, my friend."

Weeks go by. There are more incidents. Runaway vehicles that go haywire. Electrical storm fires. Rain of poisonous locusts.

Somehow he manages to protect you from it all.

It just means that he has to be more vigilant, that's all. The universe doesn't rest and neither does Miguel now. Lyla has been set on constant alert to wake him up whenever he's napping at any small signs of abnormal occurrences happening near you, with an electric shock to make sure he wakes. Something the A.I. is taking a worryingly amount of glee in (which probably means he needs to retune her programming when he has time).

And today, today Miguel was meant to have a Sunday lie in. Universe be willing, his goal was to sleep all the way into the late afternoon and then you had promised to take him to IHOP and get him all the pancakes he could eat for late breakfast.

But right now he's not asleep. He's trying to. But there are hushed words and whispered murmurs, buzzing in his ear that keeps trying to drag him away from sleep.

It's you and Strange.

Judging from the distance of the noises, you're both standing outside in the hall. The fact that you two are trying to be quiet makes it worse. If you'd spoken in normal volume he could tune it out as white noise, but the conspiratorial quietness of it all makes the hair on the back of his neck tingle with alertness.

Fuck's sake. He swears to god if you two are gossiping and making fun of Hercules’ costume (or the lack of it) again.

It's too early for this crap. Don't you two know that people are trying to sleep? He was up all night chasing crazy Kraven worshippers releasing animals from the Brooklyn zoo. Miguel had to gather wild zebras and crocodiles all the way down East Village til 4am.

With a groan, he drags himself halfway up along the mattress, about to go and growl at you both to be quiet, when the cluttered noises register as words and the fuzziness of sleep clears momentarily.

"He'd destroy this world for you."

Huh? What are you two talking about?

Miguel's too groggy to make sense of the context of what's being said. Even with his super hearing he has to focus to make out the words.

"You can't let him."

Irritated, he gets out of bed and walks to the front door to swing it open. The first thing he sees is you standing with Strange in the hallway. You jump at the suddenness and look up at him with wide eyes.

You have the worst poker face of anyone he's ever seen in his life.

"What are you two jabbering on about this damn early?" he asks.

He'd expected the two of you to act coy, maybe a clever 'wouldn't you like to know' retort back from the Mystic. Instead, Strange's face is entirely inscrutable, tone serious as he responds.

"We were just catching up. Nothing important. I need to head back," Strange says, then he turns to you with a meaningful tilt to his head. "Think about what I said."

"What was that about?" Miguel asks you as he watches Strange step through a portal and disappear.

You don't say anything. There's a worried frown etched between your eyebrows as you bite down on your lip.

Something crawls under Miguel's skin at the whole interaction.

You're oddly quiet the whole afternoon. Deep in thought and walking around as if in a daze, which unsettles him.

It's not difficult for him to guess what's wrong. He might have been half asleep when you and Strange were whispering in the corridors, but Miguel can put one and one together. Having two PHDs and a lifetime's experience of working in theoretical physics gives you that leg up.

In a last ditch effort to get you out of the uncharacteristic blues, he orders a dozen of your favorite cupcakes from that tiny shop in New Jersey. It costs an arm and a leg to have it couriered, but it'll be worth it if it makes you smile.

Then he sits down next to you on the bed and places the pink pastry box down on the mattress. It's your favorite place to eat cakes and it’s why you two always end up with crumbs and frosting all over the sheets.

You happily cram half a cupcake into your mouth in one bite as you eat, and he watches you contently. If there was any fairness in the world, this quiet idyllic moment could last forever. In a good world, Miguel wouldn’t have to burst this perfect bubble.

Sadly, this world is neither fair nor good sometimes.

"Strange said something to you right?" Miguel asks.

You still next to him, clearly torn between whether or not to share what was said to you, probably in secret with the very intention of being kept away from him.

“Nena,” Miguel tries again, and you close your eyes taking a deep breath, caving into his prodding.

"Strange thinks that my incidents might be correlated with the strange natural occurrences lately."

That fucking asshole. He knew it. Irritation pings across his jaw, and Miguel bites it down. He tries to reel it, forcing back the rant that wants to surface. Instead he tries to focus on you instead of his own anger.

"We don't know that. It could just be a series of coincidences," Miguel tells you.

You nod, but Miguel's not an idiot and neither are you. He can see the worry creasing your eyes as you look down to your lap.

Putting down the cupcake, he reaches over and links his right hand with yours.

"Nena, don't worry.” He cups his free hand over your cheek to drag you up to meet his eyes.

“I'll fight the whole universe to keep you safe if I have to. Nothing's ever going to harm you so long as I'm here. I'm not gonna let anything happen to you. You're the most important thing to me."

You smile at him at the words, but there's a wistfulness to it that embeds a dull ache in his chest that he wants to physically rub away to make it stop.

You lean into his touch, until your forehead presses up against his and the physical touch blunts the ache in him for a moment, putting it on pause.

"You’re the most important to me too," you say.

The sky itself cracks open not long after.

It doesn’t take the combined forces and intellect of the entire world too long to hone in on you being the root cause. Soon enough every superhero, mutant, villain and alien starts coming after you. Because hero or villain alike, no one truly wants their world to end, not if it’s not on their terms.

Mysterio tries to kidnap you by the elevator in your apartment building. The Human Torch even tries to burn the whole building down. The Punisher tries to murder you point blank outside your office.

Miguel can’t remember the last time he slept. He’s running on fumes. Day after day, he feels like he’s getting by on borrowed time.

The friends and allies you have thin out fast as the threats to the world increase in severity. Miguel never imagined having Deadpool standing outside his door stating that the life of one single person cannot outweigh the universe itself.

It’s all so stupid. None of them know what they’re talking about. A lynching mob with their torches and pitchforks. Never stopping to think whether harming you could trigger something much worse.

If Strange is right and you are the knot at the center of the fabric of reality that is coming apart, then ripping that out leaves a hole. Miguel gave up on explaining that fairly quickly because he realized that theoretical consequences doesn’t matter to an angry mob scared of facing the reality of extinction.

It all becomes a blur.

Exhaustion eats into his bones, until he can no longer tell the days apart. No matter how many times he saves you, disaster is always waiting just around the corner.

And now he’s chasing down the Green Goblin to the top of the Chrysler building from the 61st floor, where the green freak has cornered you to the edge of the rooftop.

Miguel is already out of breath, running away from the coalition of superheroes and villains that are hot on his heels, trying to stop him from saving you.

Adrenaline beats fast in his veins as he keeps running. Miguel is only able to make out those in pursuit in brief glimpses. The bright blue spandex suit of Reed Richards as his freakishly long elastic limbs stretch towards him. The blocks of metal hurtling towards Miguel, missing by inches and crashes into the side of a building as Magneto’s form hovers nearby.

He ignores them all, not sparing a glance behind him. He just has to keep moving. It doesn't matter that his muscles scream and burn in exhaustion. Doesn't matter that his head dulls with a heavy ache from lack of sleep. He has to keep going for you. Has to save you.

He's so close, he's almost there.

From the corner of his eyes, he makes out the familiar garish red flowing cape fluttering against the blue sky.

Strange.

Miguel marginally relaxes, at the sight of the sole ally he has left in this universe. He leaps across the rooftop, into the temporary safety of the observatory deck.

His feet doesn't even reach the ground. Something restrains him from behind. Bright lights materialize out of thin air. It wraps around Miguel's limb with the strength of unbreakable manacles, hugging him so tight it restricts the flow of blood to his fingers. Then he’s brought down to his knees.

Miguel whips his head back and Strange stands there, hands formed in a holding gesture.

“What are you–”

"I'm sorry," Strange says.

Miguel snarls at his restraints, wrenching and twisting in every direction he is able to even with the limited range of motion, but it's to no avail. The harder he struggles the more forceful the restraints seem to close in on him, mirroring his strength.

"I'm sorry it had to come to this. I really hoped there was another way but every life in the whole of the universe is at stake, Miguel."

Hot burning anger spears through him, and if he could he would raze it all to the ground with it. This place, this world and this fucking traitor standing there can all fucking burn. Miguel is gonna kill him. He's gonna kill this fucking bastard. He can't believe he trusted him.

“Strange, fucking let me… Stephen!”

He hears your pained shout and snaps his head towards the sound.

Miguel is only ten feet away from you. Ten measly feet from where the Green Goblin is holding you by the ledge of the rooftop. He can still reach you, if he can get free he can still save you.

Tearing through the magical binds, there’s a bone-cracking sound in his shoulder. Searing pain spreads through his arm. For all his struggles, he doesn't know if he’s even an inch closer towards you.

He watches you drop from the ledge.

It's a pin drop moment where everything stops. His heart is no longer beating.

No. This can't be how it ends.

He's moving forward, even as the sharp restraints digs into his limbs and flesh and burrows in with an excruciating ache. But the pain doesn't matter. All that matters is you.

It claws into him, and digs and tears, until he is sure that his entire limbs are going to be torn off, but he doesn't stop, keeps pulling against the resisting strength that surrounds him, rips against the hindrance embracing every ounce of the pain until finally, the pressure gives.

There's a cacophony of sound that's left behind him as he leaps through the air. He slingshots downwards, cutting through air as he tries to reach you.

Miguel catches your hand and relief fills his chest.

"I got you. I got you," he murmurs. He's not sure if those words are to calm you or himself.

Pulling you up in defiance of the pull of gravity, he tries to haul you up towards him. Your hand squirms in his, and if you keep going you're going to slip out of his grasp.

"Nena, don't move," he shouts in alarm, but you don't stop, twisting in all directions, making it harder for him to get a better grip.

What're you– You're resisting against his strength, why would you...

It hits him with a sickening realization.

You don' want him to save you.

"Stop!" he shouts. “Stop!”

You shake your head, tears filling the corner of your eyes that flow upwards and everything is upside down to him.

"We’re out of time. You have to let me go,” you say.

His fingers squeeze down even harder at your words, refusing to hear it.

“There's still time. There are still other options. I can still save you!”

Your hand reaches for the amulet pressed against your collarbone. Dread floods every nerve in his body as he sees your fingers squeeze around it.

"No!" He shouts. Screams it so loud it burns in his lungs. But deep down he knows it's not going to make any difference. "Nena, don't!"

The wind whips too loudly against his face. The sound of your heart pounding so painfully hard in his ear that it's deafening and he knows that sound will haunt him forever.

You're scared.

He sees your lips move, but he can't hear what you're saying.

But he's heard these words so many times before from your lips that he knows them by heart.

''I love you.''

An invisible force blasts away at him, it shatters through him through his limbs and torso into the very soft tissue of his stomach and makes his teeth shake. He's propelled upwards, unable to control his movements or defy the gravity that he's learned to navigate after all these years mid-air.

He holds on as hard as he can to your hand, but it doesn't matter. His fingers slip, his grip is lost.

You're falling through the sky.

Miguel doesn't remember much after that.

Somehow he makes it back onto the ground.

Somehow he finds you amongst the cracked dirty concrete.

Somehow, despite falling from over a 100 feet your body is still intact where it lies lifeless on the ground.

Your bones are broken though. Body limp and soft in his arms in a way that has never felt more wrong to him. His only consolation is that you're still warm in his arms, and he thinks that maybe if he just doesn't let go, if he holds you tightly pressed to him the way he is doing now, it'll remain that way forever.

The sky has cleared above. There are no cracks in the azure blue canvas.

This world is saved.

His world has ended.

~ Next Issue

Dedication & Credits: To @thirstworldproblemss who has been with me on this journey since chapter one without her enthusiasm and her companionship and friendship and listening to my wild ramblings about this story, I would never have set out to write this thing. She gave me so much joy in the process, she also gave me her time and her skills and brainy talent to help me process and brainstorm this into a shape that I was excited to share with you all! You also have her to thank for that devastating last line.

@guruan who has been a constant well of inspiration with her amazing art, her bright sense of humor and her sharing of theories of what's going to happen! You've made writing this story so much fun!

Author's note: Here we go guys, we've officially entered the final arc now. With only three chapters to go! I am so excited to share the remaining puzzle pieces with you all!

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara fic #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara fanfic #miguel o'hara fanfiction #spiderverse #oscar isaac #across the spiderverse #marvel #marvel mcu #spiderverse fanfiction #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara #miguel ohara x you

769 notes · View notes

coffee-with-mint-syrup · 2 months

Text

The case of live-action atla zutara.

First of all, the scarf scene. I won't be repeating myself, here are some main points - there was absolutely no reason for Zuko to act the way he did and for the scene to be shot this dramatically. Even if they did the shipbaiting in this scene - it means there's a ship which is much more than live-action kataang has at this point. Also I don't really think these guys are shipbaiting type but that's just the impression I got.

Then - the second obvious one - Oma and Shu's visuals. We have star-crossed lovers from two towns at war, basically the local equivalent of Romeo and Juliet (as in legendary lovers who are known above all for their love) wearing coincidentally colors that are primarily associated with two of our characters (who shared this dramatically shot scene in the previous episode).

And I know, it may seem so insignificant - but but but but! - you have to think about this. Of course there are creators, writers and showrunners that are unaware of some non-canon ships or don't care about them. But it's not the case for atla. No, creators of atla were so aware of zutara - they wrote a parody scene in a in-world trashy play to mock this fan pairing and it still proved absolutely nothing and just gave zutara more content. The creators and writers of this adaptation clearly had the discussion "what we should do with kataang" - because there is no trace of kataang in the 1st season. So it was a conscious decision to omit that - but where would the romantic subplot go? Well, I don't know, but they are showrunners, they most certainly discussed options. They are clearly very, very, very much aware of zutara. And they still do this? They still show us Oma and Shu wearing red and blue? All they had to do is to give at least one of them any different color. Any. But they didn't. (for fuck sake, it is the Earth Kingdom - yellow and green would do it)

There were zero, no, nada Kataang interactions, implications or those scenes that are filmed just a little bit too dramatically like the scarf one. I don't know, there's still a chance that they will wait for season 3 to make Aang's crush on Katara happen. I'm also not so sure what will happen to Aang failing to open seventh chakra, I mean - his love for Katara has a huge purpose in series, so it still doesn't look very good. But you can't even imagine how glad I am that they didn't do this secret tunnel thing. It was very uncomfortable.

So it was the more fact-based part of my case, let's get to the irrational, almost delusional part, tin foil hat probably needed.

Almost all the scenes Zuko and Katara shared in the first season kept reminding me of another famous enemies-to-lovers ship that actually became canon in the infamous final episode - Reylo, the way it was filmed in The Force Awakens. I mean - the first fight in the woods where she looses, the intensity of him staring at her, the final fight in snowy location where she kicks his ass and shows her mastering this superpower, him trying to talk to her during this fight and mentioning her learning/having to learn...Zuko calling Katara a peasant reminded me of this "Rey is no one" discourse. I don't know man, I haven't thought about The Force Awakens reylo for a very long time and it just kept popping in my head.

All of this - it's like a blueprint for enemies to lovers.

Also I actually think that the look they shared in the 2nd episode was also shot kinda weirdly and dramatically. It's not to the extent of the scarf scene but I do remember thinking that "why did they film it they way? it's too intense".

In the conclusion I'd like to say that as much as I like all the season 1 zutara stuff they left out in the adaptation - necklace subplot and implications, pirates and the famous "You rise with the moon, I rise with the sun" - I think I actually prefer the scarf scene. Yes, it would be so great to see those things in adaptation but in the end of the day they would still be just the things they kept from the original and probably noting more. Like the cabbages or the secret tunnel song or anything else, just things from the source material that implicate nothing. While the scarf scene, the Oma and Shu's clothes - it means they made a conscious decision to make it that way. It means they put some thought into that and some meaning. And this gives me hope there's a chance for Zutara in this adaptation.

P.S. I told about this my sister who hasn't watch the series yet and she said "I think people who made this show are just shipping zutara in secret". I do not necessarily imply she might be right - but creators of animated series (the very same people that made kataang canon, not zutara) DID leave because of some creative differences and because they couldn't control creative decision. Might as well be THAT kind of decision.

#finally got it all out of my system #this whole thing just screams: Coincidence? I think NOT!#but seriously #can we have this one?#zutara #avatar the last airbender #atla #atla spoilers #netflix atla

184 notes · View notes

m4tthewsgf · 3 months

Text

Birthday wishes

Matt Sturniolo x fem y/n !bday girl

Warnings: this one's kinda dark so tw for implied sh and suicidal thoughts/tendencies

Author's Note: today marks my 19th year of living and what's better than writing a story based on your feelings and hoping that it will provide you some comfort? 😃 yeah idk just felt the need to do that I guess so there you go, sorry if this is a bit much. Enjoy!!! You matter!!!

---

The day I've been dreading the most for the past 7 years arose. The day that I was brought into this world, a place I always wanted to leave behind. Ever since I was a teenager, I hated my birthday. Sure, when I was younger I did throw parties and got excited about it, but growing up sucks every ounce of innocence and pure joy that's left in one's body, just like a vampire that craves blood. Growing up sucks. The feeling of standing still while the years go by sucks. Everything sucks, but my birthday quadruples that emotion.

I find it ironic how I am supposed to celebrate my existence on a random day in January when I've been yearning to vanish for years. I mean, my age may change every year but I don't, and that scares me. To me, birthdays are like a second New Year's Day where you recap the year that went by only to realise that you did nothing with your life and that you had, in fact, stood still while the whole world was making any sort of progress. The constant feeling of hopelessness and sadness exhausted me. I had waisted so many birthday wishes the past few years for that matter, hoping that they would someday, somehow work and I'd get better, but it was no use. So, I just stopped wishing. Stopped wishing to get better, stopped wishing to be enough for someone, stopped wishing to finally be happy and loved. I stopped because I realised that I was doomed, and what can one do when their destiny has been prescribed to them from the moment they were conceived?

Now, don't get me wrong, I do find parts of life beautiful. Inside this dark, scary cloud that I have found myself drowning in, there certainly are some sun rays that peak through every now and then that remind me that there's beauty in breathing. Beauty in existing. They may not shine as bright for the most part, but when they do, it's always in the right moment when my evil thoughts and emotions take a hold of me. Music, dogs and cats, chocolate, books… Friends. My friends are the most beautiful people in this life. Well, my boyfriend is the most beautiful one out of all, but don't tell Nick and Chris.

Nick, Matt and Chris are basically the people that saved me. I met them when I was at my lowest and they were like a breath of fresh air, like a sip of clean, cold water after wandering around the Sahara desert. Somehow they just showed up in my life and pulled me out of my misery and darkness without even knowing. Sure, I'm still struggling mentally, but they gave me a reason to keep going when I was sure that there weren't any left. I still cannot understand how they did that, but I'm glad they did. Maybe they are superheroes whose superpowers are spreading kindness and hopefulness to the one’s who suffer. Or maybe their hugs are their superpower; when these guys hug you, they wrap their arms so protectively around you that not even your own thoughts can touch you. I don't know what it is, but they are for sure not normal, mortal people.

Even though I love them all equally and they make my days brighter, Matt, my boyfriend, was the one who actually showed me that maybe, just maybe, I am capable of living the life I always dreamed of. I may be 19 now with no dreams and desires, but I once were 7 as well, and little me always wanted to discover what love was and how it felt. She, in fact, wished for it; love. She wanted to be just like the Disney princesses she was so obsessed with, wanting to be wrapped in her lover's arms and find out herself if those butterflies everyone talked about tickled her stomach or not. And Matt did just that. He became her prince who saved her from the monstrosity of a mind her skull ironically protected. He saved her from an ugly, evil version of herself that older her viewed as a monster. It may not was a wicked witch or a fearsome dragon, but it was someone that was still a threat to her.

Matt knows every part of me. Hell, he knows parts of me I haven't even discovered yet. He knows every dent of mine, every scar and wrinkle and mole. He knows how my hands start to shake when someone raises their voice at me and how I pick the dead skin on my bottom lip until it bleeds when I'm stressed. He knows every single ugly thing about me and yet, he sees beauty in it. He sees humanity in the parts that I've baptised as ghastly and abhorrent, the parts I've spent my whole life hating on because they made me, me. At times it didn't feel real. How could someone as pure as him willingly be with a person who always ought to save others while she couldn't save herself? How could have he endured all of me and still choose to stay?

At first I thought it was pity. I assumed he felt sorrow for me and my patheticness, but that worry of mine was shorty discarded when he kissed every scar I had put on my body. He kissed every single one of them, from my thighs to my sides to my arms, caressed them with his fingertips so delicately that I had to question myself if I was some sort of porcelain doll, and whispered sweet little nothings while doing so. He still does that when I'm feeling down or when I'm doubting his love for me. I mean, who wouldn't? My whole life, all I knew was roughness and I was sure that I was incapable of receiving something other than that, but there he was, treating me with so much softness and warmth I didn't think I deserved. Matt was able to heal wounds he never created. His lips, arms and voice were the strings that stitched them together and made them go away. And whenever new ones opened, his kind and reassuring words were the bandages he put over them before stitching them, opting to keep them disinfected so I won't be in any more pain.

Matt was aware that on Christmas and my birthday I needed more care than any other day. He knew how on those two days I just wanted to disappear and my emotions consumed me, so he was extremely loving and comforting. We had multiple conversations about it, about what it was that made me so upset in those days so he could find a way to help me in any way, shape or form. The day I finally opened up to him about it still replays in my head.

Flashback

“Baby?” He asked as he entered the living room and closed the door behind him. I was curled up on a couch with a fuzzy blanket wrapped all over me with tear stained cheeks and red eyes. Once he heard my sniffles, he quickly made his way up to me and sat right next to where my tummy landed.

“What's wrong, beautiful? Did something happen?” He softly spoke as he wiped away a few more tears that escaped from my eyes. I didn't answer, I just shook my head and stared at the movie I was watching. He exhaled sharply and looked over at the TV screen, noticing that I was binge watching my favorite animated film I always put on when I needed some comfort.

“Hey,” he whispered and grabbed my chin to make my eyes fall on his, “you can talk to me, y/n. You're safe with me. Whatever it is, we will go through it together, I promise” he scanned my face.

“I'm sorry” I mumbled as more tears blurred my vision. Matt was quick to grab my face with both of his hands and shushing me. He knew I always apologized when I was feeling down.

“Hush dear, no need to apologize,” he cooed, “I just want to make you feel okay, hm? Let me take care of you, let me cherish you” he pressed his soft lips against my temple, slowly making his way down to my lips.

“I got you something,” he said against my parted lips, hands still on each side of my face. I just looked up at him with frowned eyebrows.

He got up from the couch and made his way to the kitchen counter. In an instant, he was right back in front of me with his arms tucked behind his back, hiding whatever my surprise was. With a loving gaze, he brought his hands right in front of me, revealing a bouquet of white and lavender babybreaths with a few lilies, my favorite flowers, along with a basket that consisted of my favorite snacks and books that I wanted to read. My jaw hung open.

“Happy birthday, sweetheart” Matt breathed with a toothy grin. I just stared at him with a lost expression.

At this point, we had been together for only 3 months and I was pretty sure I hadn't mentioned any of the things he was gifting me. I couldn't recall a moment where I had vocalized my love for those flowers or my desire to read those books. How did he know?

“Matt” my voice broke. I tilted my head at him and sat up as I felt a familiar lump in my throat. With a quivering lip, I broke down, my shaking hands covering my tears.

“Oh baby, c’mere,” he put the things down and quickly pulled me into his chest. His grip on my back was firm yet not hard enough to hurt me, but to reassure me that he was there. He rocked us back and forth as I sobbed into him, placing sweet kisses on the top of my head and whispering comforting words that only made me want to cry even harder.

He was the best and worst thing that has ever happened to me. My blessing and curse. Those ocean blue eyes of his that pierced through my soul and filled me with strength were the same ones that made me cry the most because I loved him. And love doesn't come without pain, or at least that's what I knew.

“Talk to me, y/n” he mumbled against my hair, his body still moving back and forth with me still clinging on the fabric of his shirt for dear life.

“I just-,” I sniffed and pulled out of his cozy embrace and wiped my eyes, “I hate this” I embarrassingly admitted.

“I'm sorry, I thought you'd like it I'll get you-“

“No! No, I didn't mean your gift!” I shook my head. I truly didn't. It was in fact the most thoughtful gift I've ever received. And also the first time I ever got flowers, something I always wanted to be given.

“I mean my birthday. I despise it” I chuckled at how pathetic I sounded. Matt's expression did relax at my confession but confusion was obvious in his face.

“Why?” He breathed. I looked up at him to meet his gaze that was already on me, soft and loving.

“It doesn't matter,” I tried to wash away his concern but it didn't work.

“It matters to me,” he shrugged, “I want to help you, baby. But in order to do that, I need to understand you first and I cannot do that if you don't talk to me” he simply said.

“And I don't want to hurt you,” he continued, “but I will unwillingly do that if you don't tell me what hurts you. It's like stepping on a minefield; how would I know where to safely step if I don't know where the mines are?”

“I don't want you to get scared and walk away” I choked on a sob. Matt tilted his head at me with a sad smile on his lips.

“You will not, I promise. You're too well tangled in my soul for me to just walk away” he chuckled. I felt my cheeks turn red at his words and bit my lips to fight back a smile that was threatening to form in my face. He grabbed my hand and interlocked our fingers, his thumb drawing lazy circles on my flesh, an act of reassurance and encouragement.

I did trust Matt. Hell, I trusted him more than I trusted my own self. I knew I had to talk to him about it. I loved him. He had to know.

Taking a deep, shaky breath, I spoke with a trembling voice that was almost as quiet as a whisper.

“Ever since I was 12 I've hated that day. Before I hit 18, I didn't want to celebrate my existence because I simply didn’t want to exist,” I trailed off with my gaze locked in our touching hands, “I was so sure that I wasn't going to make it till then, but here I am, I guess” I forced a laugh but it soon faded.

“It just doesn't feel real, you know? And I don't mean that in a good way. I feel like a coward,” I breathed while a few more teardrops fell, “it was honestly kind of like a goal of mine, not turning 18, which I obviously failed to accomplish,” I shook my head in disappointment, “my birthday just reminds me of those feelings and it just triggers me, I suppose. And now that I turned 19 and I'm still here... it's just a lot of feelings I can't quite describe. And apart from that, why would I celebrate a life I never wanted?” I tried to joke but I didn't earn a laugh from Matt. Scared of his reaction, I slowly lifted my head to look at him with guilt.

His eyes were watering, his forehead creased and an obvious frown on his lips he didn't even try to hide from me. He just stood there in silence for a minute or two, eyeing every feature that my face had to offer, before enveloping his shaking hands around me once more. This time, however, his grip was harsh and his whole body was trembling. He held me so tightly that I could barely breath, his grasp against my skin so tense I was sure it would leave marks. This time, it wasn't me he was trying to comfort, but himself. Knowing that his pure and genuine heart couldn't take that much hurt, I placed my own arms around him securely.

“It's okay, baby” I repeated over and over again as my fingers played with his dark hair. His face nuzzled in the crook of my neck where I felt wetness in. I hated seeing him like this, but I understood that it was a lot to take in. His reaction was more than understandable.

“I'm so sorry, y/n” he pulled away with wet cheeks.

“It's not your fault, you don't have to apologize.”

“Yeah but,” he choked, “it isn't fair! You were a child, you shouldn't be feeling this way!” he reasoned.

“I know, but I managed, didn't I? I'm still here,” I wiped away his tears with my thumbs. He just looked at me and nodded. His gaze mirrored his troubled thoughts. I could tell it hurt him; hearing the person you love the most admitting such things isn't an easy thing.

“I just…,” he trailed off, “I just want you to know that I'm glad you're still here. You may not believe what I'm about to say, but you do make a difference in this world. You make a difference in my world. The fact that there's probably a version of myself out there that doesn't have you in his life makes me feel sorry for him, because you truly are a gift, baby” Matt spoke.

“I promise you, I'll make it feel better. I'll find a way to make the pain go away, I swear,” he cupped my face and brought it so close to his I felt his hot breath on my skin. Not giving me a chance to speak, he pulled me against him. I let out a sigh before allowing myself to relax under his touch and comfort.

“You're so strong” he murmured against my hair. I laughed.

“I'm not strong, Matt, I am weak. If I were strong, I wouldn't be here today” I blandly told him and I felt him shake his head violently, obviously disagreeing with my statement.

“D-Don't. Don't say that. Please, don't say that. You are strong. Despite everything, you're here. You may not have chosen to stay, but you did. You're strong for not caving in and letting your mind control you, you're strong for handling all of these big and dark emotions ever since you were a child, you're strong for telling me. You may not see it, but there is so much strength in you, y/n, that inspires others. I know you don't get what I'm saying, but I also know how draining it is to feel like this. If anything, you're strong,” he argued and pulled away from the embrace to look me in my eyes. Maybe he was right. Maybe I didn't give myself enough credit for it.

“I'll get you help. I'll find a therapist for you, the best one there is. I’ll pay for your sessions and everything you need. And I'll find ways to help you myself, I'll do my research, read books…I'll do anything for you, angel. I just want to make sure that you're safe. And if there's anything that I do that makes you feel unloved by me or hurts you in any way, please tell me. The last thing I want you to do is question my love for you” he said with puppy dog eyes.

Matt was a sincere and emotional man, two traits that made me fall in love with him instantly. His sympathy was something I've never came across with before meeting him. He was truly an angel sent from heaven.

“Thank you” I smiled sadly at him.

“I am here for you, baby. I will always be. No matter what happens, you'll always have me, I promise. I love you,” he breathed and kissed me with so much passion that made my head spin.

End of flashback

That was the day we muttered that phrase to one another. To some it may seem too soon, but I don't care. I needed to hear it and I needed to hear it from him. And I also felt the need to say it back because I did love him. Probably the most I've ever loved anything and anyone in this world. That was also the day I showed him my scars. Before that, I refused to get naked in front him even to just change my clothes, because I was scared of how he was going to react. Even though I wanted to have sex with him and show him how much I craved him and his body, my fear always consumed me. He didn't put any pressure on me though, he was very respectful of my boundaries and he made sure that I knew he wasn't upset or angry at me for not wanting to do anything sexual with him.

“You could tell me to never touch you again and I'd still feel the same way about you,” Matt used to tell me, and still does, whenever I apologize for not being in the mood to sleep with him. How could I not fall for this boy?

So here we are, a year later in our shared bedroom in his and his brothers' apartment taking in each other’s presence. Our legs intertwined, my face buried deep into his chest and his arms wrapped around my waist. Matt was a peaceful sleeper and in my opinion, he looked the most beautiful when he was asleep. He looked so comfortable and relaxed, his cheek squeezing against the soft pillow that supported his head and mouth slightly agape. Even in his sleep, though, he made sure to keep me close to him. He was always hugging me or touching my hand which I dearly appreciated. Whenever I woke up before him, I just stayed there and admired him until his eyes opened, and that's what I'm doing right now.

Lifting my head up, I look at his dreamy face. I smile fondly at the sight in front of me and I can't help myself but place soft, loving kisses on his features, neck and collarbones. I hear him shift under me, his body slowly stretching, which indicated his awakening. I look back up at him again and see him sheepishly smile down at me, a smile that never fails to make my heart jump and flutter.

“Sorry, didn't mean to wake you up” I apologise softly.

“Mhm” he hums and brings me back against his body. I giggle at his clinginess but allowed myself to turn into a paddle under his touch and loving embrace. He rubs my back and caresses my hair before he places tender kisses on my forehead and lips.

“Happy birthday, my love” he wishes me in between pecks, making me smile against his pinkish, plump lips. I kiss him back passionately.

“How are you feeling?” Matt whispers as he pulls away, resting his face just a few inches away from mine. I smile at him. A genuine, gentle smile.

“I'm good” I whisper back.

“Yeah?” his lips take an upturn curve.

“Yeah,” I breathed before kissing him again. I hover on top of him with my body still laying beside him though, and his hands reach to take a hold of the sides of my face. We both smile into the kiss which ends up being interrupted by the door bursting open, making me jump.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” Nick and Chris exclaim at the same time. They're even wearing birthday hats. These kids. I look down at Matt whose face was filled with pure shock. I laugh.

“Thank you, boys” I shoot them a toothy smile.

“Oh wait, I forgot the cake!” Chris says before running back to the kitchen. I look at Nick who stared at his younger brother in disbelief.

“I'm so sorry, I told them not to do-“

“Baby, it's okay,” I whispered, “I'm okay.”

“I'm so proud of you,” Matt says softly before sitting up and placing a kiss on flustered my cheek.

“Here! Make a wish!” Chris says as he came back with the cake which, in reality, was just a few pancakes with a lit up candle on top.

All those years, I thought that birthday wishes weren't a thing until I got blessed with those 3 boys. I don’t know what or who brought them to me, if it was God’s or any other celestial’s work, but I thanked them every night for allowing me to have such people around me. I was so grateful for them and for once in a while, I was grateful to be alive.

I was grateful for not giving up when I felt like it was the only way out. I was grateful for not losing the battle because if I had, I wouldn't have met them and I wouldn't know what love and happiness felt like. I couldn't be able to give little me the love she deserved. She wouldn't have met Matt, she wouldn't have felt the butterflies every time he landed his eyes on her which indeed did tickle her stomach, she wouldn't have known how unconditional love felt like. The thought of that made me uneasy. I couldn't take that away from her and I was more than happy I didn't.

I look around me and cherish this moment. Yes, there is still a lot of healing I need to do still, but I'm getting there. With the help of my friends, I will get there. Their smiling faces give me strength everyday to keep going. And so before blowing out the candle, I make a wish. I wish for all the people who feel just like I once did to get better. I wish for their pain to vanish and be replaced with happiness and peace. I wish for them to realize that their existence matters more than they think. And most importantly, I wish for them to not lose the battle because yes, life may be tough, but they're tougher. Because they are needed and beautiful and unique. Because they deserve a happy ending. Because they do make this world a better place just by being in it.

206 notes · View notes

writingintheshadowsforever · 8 months

Text

Imagine Abby confessing her love for you

You knew you were goner the first time you laid eyes on Abby Anderson. She was tough, guarded, emotionless, and serious about completing the task. Whatever it was Isaac put her charge of no matter the objective that was always her main focus. Despite her tough exterior and her knack for pushing people away whenever they tried to befriend her. Almost like it was her secret superpower or something.

You managed to worm your way into her heart with the resilience of a bear trying to protect its cubs, and the patience of a scorpion waiting for its poison to spread before moving in for the kill on its prey. If someone asked Abby how you were the one who got through to her first.

She didn't have an honest answer for them herself for she never understood how you did what you did. All she knew was once she let you in. There was no getting rid of you even if she wanted to. Abby found herself relying on someone else to keep her. Other than the need for revenge going for the first time since her dad's death. She'd do anything for you. There was nothing in the world you couldn't ask her to do that wouldn't be an automatic yes.

Unless of course you asked to be honest about her feelings for you. Because the second the two of you returned from scouting the outpost. You cornered her in the locker rooms knowing she would be in there to take a nice long, and hot shower. It was pretty late so no one else was present. You figured that would make it slightly easier to coax the truth out of her. Instead Abby gave you the run around insisting that yes while you were an important person in her life, and she indeed love you (like a friend) making sure to put an extra emphasis on the word friend. She wasn't harboring any feelings for you, or anyone else.

Abby then went on to make some stupid joke about her last relationship, and just how incompatible she was with anyone. You weren't buying it for one second, but nonetheless you still let it go. Knowing better than anyone if you pushed her too hard she'd shut down for a while.

But apparently that one push was enough because the next day Isaac asked you to report to him. He proceeded to tell you that for the next month or so. He was reassigning you to strictly supply runs only, and if you weren't need there. You were to report for dog duty every morning which included in helping training the dogs, cleaning up their kennels, and grooming them. No more field missions for you with reason being you showed reckless behavior on your last mission. That could've resulted in the death of either you, or you and your team.

"You got potential to be one of my best soldiers in the future y/n. I'll be damned if I lose you in the field because you want to be a show-off playing hero." Isaac scolded you with a grunt placing Abby's mission report on his desk.

Arguing with him wasn't going to change a thing. You might've been with the WLF longer, but Abby had way more experience in the field. Her history with the Fireflies and dedication to training moved her up the ranks faster than any other solider. She hardly ever went on a mission where she actually had to answer to someone else. So whatever she told Isaac was final.

The role change took place nearly two weeks ago, and you still hadn't adjusted in the change of pace. Plus the lack of action not to mention despite how pissed off you were with her. You missed Abby Anderson terribly. The two of you only saw each other in passing, and each time Abby avoided eye contact. Right now the supply run you were on took you a few miles away from main base. Abby had just returned from a pretty nasty confrontation with the Scars, and was resting up in the infirmary. You wouldn't be surprised if she had something to do with you being sent on a four-day run.

"Ahhh I don't see how these guys do this all day." You complained pushing the door to the lobby of the abandoned hotel open with your back. The room covered from top to bottom with containers filled with any items that were preserved and still of good use. With a grunt you heaved the large box in your arms up to stack it on top of more boxes. The pile held up not swaying the slightest bit.

You let out a sigh of relief leaning back on a heavier and stronger stack of containers. The person in charge would've made you clean it up alone if it fell. "This is literally the definition of grunt work."

"Wow its good to know how you really feel about us, and our contribution to the WLF's survival." A familiar voice chimed in only a few feet away.

You let out a surprise yelp looking up to see Nora positioned right in front of you. Her arms crossed over her chest, a single eyebrow quirked upward with a playful smile on her face. "How long have you been there?"

"Considering I'm in charge of taking inventory all day. What's in the box you brought in?" She asked her tone becoming a bit more strict for the moment.

"A bunch random clothes" You told her unsure of why it was important.

"They actually go over there." She pointed to the far left side of the lobby chuckling. At the way you groaned pushing off the containers. "Calm down I'll have some of the guys move it later."

You relaxed again shooting her a fake angry smile.

"So what did you do to get on Isaac's bad side. The only time he puts field operatives on supply runs is when we're navigating dangerous territory. And the only time he turns you guys into suppliers is when he wants to punish you." Isaac knew the change in pace of the work drew field operatives crazy.

"Its more like what I did to piss off Abby." You said unable to hide the irritation in your voice.

Nora's eyes widened a bit at your answer before her face scrunched up in confusion. "But you and Abby are like this" she stated holding up a hand with one finger crossed over the other.

"Yeah we were until I tried to make confess her feelings for me" You told her with a shrug. If Abby was going to lie about it why should you keep it a secret.

"Oh no you gotta start from the beginning girl" Nora demanded shaking her head. Not giving you a chance to protest she hoisted herself up onto a container adjacent to you.

You chuckled at her eagerness to hear some gossip, but knew nothing more exciting was going to happen. So you would indulge in it this once even though it was never your thing. Plus Nora and Abby were close enough the girl was in the inner circle. No easy feat to accomplish with Abby.

"We went on a scouting mission a few weeks ago, and got ambushed by a herd of infected. Abby got cornered and ran out of bullets, so I came to her rescue doing something that was kinda stupid." You admitted a bit guilty knowing Abby wasn't completely lying about the reckless behavior thing. "But it worked and I saved her life only I guess she thought I died in the process. Abby started freaking out and when after I reassured her I was fine. She went on to say I couldn't do stuff like because she cared about me too much, and stopped short of dropping the "L" word."

Nora held onto every single word that left your mouth following the story with genuine interest. When you to the end immediately she shook her head hoping down from her seat. "Nope we can't have this I'm going to help you get your girl."

Your eyes lit up with curiosity. "How?

"Oh don't worry I'll think of something" she replied already rubbing her chin.

You still wanted more insight which led to your next question. "Why?"

Nora turned back around and walked over to rest both of her hands on either of your shoulders. "Because you're my girl and Abby is my girl I want both of you to be happy. Plus I've been rooting for y'all since day one when the two of you met."

"And" you pressed her further sensing an ulterior motive.

"I got a running bet with Owen, Manny, and Mel about when the two of you are going to finally get together." she finally admitted with a sheepish smile. "Don't be mad."

I'm not but Mel." You laughed a little bit thrown back by the timid doctor being in on it.

"I betted it would be sooner than later, but Mel thought the opposite while Owen and Manny opted for it being never."

You wanted to disappointed in Owen but with the way Abby reacted to everything that happened. It made sense and Manny was her roommate, so he probably did have some type of insight on her unknown to you.

"So what do you get if you win? Money isn't exactly worth anything."

Nora just gave you a quick wink and motioned for you to follow her.

Three Days Later

Isaac didn't have any more assignments for suppliers, and your assistance with the dogs wasn't required. So you readied yourself to enjoy a rare free day or two, but a solider came banging on your door the morning. After you had just returned from your supply run with Nora to let you know the man wanted to see you in his office.

You dragged yourself out of bed with a sleepy groan cursing the entire world. What could Isaac possibly want now? He literally told you last night today was yours. A five minute shower and ten minutes spent going through your closest trying to determine what to wear, and a quick stop to the mess hall for breakfast. You finally arrived at his door giving it a gentle knock.

"Its y/n"

"Come in" replied his gruff voice.

You opened the door to the sight of Isaac sitting behind his desk with his hands folded together in resting atop it. Abby sat in chair on the right side with both of knees maintaining a steady bouncing pace. The second your foot stepped into the office she launched to her feet. Already red in the face jabbing a anger finger at you.

"What is she doing here?"

"Sit back down Abby" Isaac commanded rather than answer her question.

"But-" she started to protest until he fixed her with his steely gaze, and she finally listened. Plopping back down into the chair propping her elbow up on the arm, and placing her chin in her awaiting hand. Abby grumbled complaints under her breath while you took the chair beside her holding back an amused smile.

"Owen and Manny are both out of commission for the next few days, and you need a partner for your scouting mission today." Isaac said laying both of his hands flat on the desk.

"Are they okay?" You asked a bit concerned.

He nodded. "Mel said it was some type of stomach bug possibly caused by. A bad batch of fish from last night's dinner, but we're keeping them in a restricted area to be sure."

Your mind wandered back to your conservation with Nora just a day ago, and you knew without a doubt this was her doing. You fought off the urge to grin again.

"I don't need a partner Isaac I can handle this by myself." Abby argued throwing you a side glance trying to hide the guilt in them.

"After what happened on your last mission I won't risk it. The infected could be anywhere in this point, and you never know when a horde is going to show up. Plus those Scars are getting more bolder with each attack. Y/N compliments your skillset nicely, and has enough experience."

"But she's reckless-"

"And I trust you to maintain control over this mission, and put her in place if the need arises. Are you telling me you can't handle it?" Isaac narrowed his eyes at Abby almost daring her to continue questioning his decision.

"No sir I can handle it" Abby answered dropping her head with a look of despair.

The scouting mission was a simple one. Located about three miles from the main WLF base was a small cabin near a set of watchtowers. A group of soldiers stumbled upon it on they're way back, but didn't feel comfortable scoping it out. They were injured, malnourished, and sleep deprived after spending days hiding out in Scar infested territory trying not to be discovered.

It was close enough to base Isaac was sure none of the Scars were stupid enough to get this close. And if there were a few hanging out about you and Abby were more than capable of taking them out. He did order to bring one back for interrogation if the two of you found any.

The cabin was located in wooded area where the trees grew too great heights, and the bushes were dense. Abby walked ahead of you hacking any blocking vegetation away with her machete. She did it in such an aggressive way you were pretty sure this was her stress reliever. Anything would do rather than actually getting it off her chest through conservation. You followed behind her maintaining a comfortable distance. It went like this a solid hour or so into the trail before finally you couldn't take the silence anymore.

"Are you going to ignore me the whole time Abby?" You asked her.

"That depends what do you want to talk about?" she shot back not even bothering to pause to look back at you.

"I don't know how about the fact you lied to Isaac and got me put on supply duty."

Now she stopped whirling around to face you her face shrouded in disbelief at your words. "I didn't lie your actions were reckless on that mission." She raised the machete pointing at you, but then realized it and slid into the waistband of her pants.

"Yeah but that's not why you reported me is it? You accused closing the distance between you two.

"Why else would I report you y/n?"

If she was going to continue to play dumb then you were happy to bring up the elephant in the room again. "To get me away from you for a few days, so you could bury those feelings so deep inside of you again. You'd forget they were ever even there."

A red tint coated her cheeks as her eyes averted the contact from yours now. Instead she turned her gaze to the ground below swallowing a lump in her throat. "We should keep moving."

Not bothering to wait for your reply Abby turned back around and continued on the path to the cabin. You let out a sigh of exasperation running a hand down your face. Of course it wasn't going to be that easy to make her confess. You were going to play the danger card again.

The opportunity to do it without putting your life in any real danger presented itself. A whole hour later after the two of you finished hiking your way through all the deep bush. The trail cleared up a bit more till eventually one of the watchtowers came into view, and the closer you two got to it. The more realized getting to the cabin wasn't going to be easy as the group made it out to be.

The sound of rushing water filled the air when you and Abby got within ten feet of the tower. And the source of noise revealed itself once you reached the tower to it sitting on the edge of a ravine. Abby extended her arm out in front you. When both of you reached the edge of the grassy terrain that led down into a wide and deep ditch. That was filled up with water probably from the few storms to hit the area in the past few days.

You leaned over to try and determine just how deep it went wondering. If it was possible to walk across, but the bottom wasn't visible. The current was too strong to just outright risk it, and you didn't see a bridge or anything that could be used as one.

"We gotta find another way across" Abby said coming to the same conclusion. "Let's keep following the path farther down maybe the water level gets lower." She pulled out the map to look over for a possible better destination, so caught up with it. Abby missed the way your eyes lit with mischief when you looked upward. The two watchtowers were connected to one other by a decent size beam.

By the time Abby finished going over the map you were taking your first step onto the beam.

"Alright there actually might be a road..." Her voice trailed off when she discovered you were no longer beside or in front of her.

"Y/N" she called out your name her head swiveling in every direction in frantic search for you. Had the Scars managed to ambush and nab you with her so close? The thought terrified her so much she was five seconds away from working herself into hyperventilating just like last time. "Y/N" Abby cried out desperately again.

"Up here Abbs calm down" you shouted from your position standing on top of the beam. About thirty feet up in the air balancing on the metal surface with ease.

She followed the sound of your voice, and sighed with relief at the sight you. Bracing a hand to her chest she calmed her panicked breathing. It took a minute to get it back to normal then she glared up at you. "What the hell are you doing up there? Come down now."

"No we can cross this way" You argued with a tiny smirk.

"Y/N I'm not playing with you get down from there" Abby ordered again. Her voice more firm this time but you saw how nervous she was getting.

"But this is so much faster than walking like another three miles for a road that might destroyed. Plus that's farther than Isaac wanted us to go." You pointed out.

"I don't care I'm in charge and I said no. Now. Get. Down. Here." Abby pointed at you then the ground on her last two words.

"Fine I'll come down" You agreed. "But first I want to hear you say it." You added it as she relaxed again.

Your request made her quirked an eyebrow. "Say what?"

You shook your head. "No more games Abby finish what you were going to say to me. On our last mission before you stopped yourself I won't come down till you do."

Abby grabbed two fistfuls of her hair holding back a frustrated scream. It was a miracle she didn't unravel the braid. "Oh for crying out loud y/n let it go. I wasn't going to say anything besides what I actually said." Now please get down here before you fall and drown or something." Abby pleaded with wide and desperate eyes.

You dropped into a crouch swaying a bit but righting yourself immediately. A small cry exited Abby's mouths as she followed your every move in fear. "What would you do if I fell in? Would you try to save me?" You asked her softly.

"I'd do anything for you" she whispered so low you barely heard her. "Because we're friends and that's what friends do for each other." It was half a lie, and both of you knew it. You were too close to give up now. So you added more pressure by standing upright and turning to walk further away to the middle of the beam. "I thought it was because I was one of the best."

"You are y/n but you're my friend too. I'm sorry for the way I've been acting for the past couple of weeks. Is that what you wanted to hear? I'm sorry okay."

Close but not close enough.

"What exactly am I the best at Abby?"

She furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. "What?" she replied.

"You said I was one of the best but at what. It can't be fighting because that title goes to you easily. I mean not even our toughest guys can take you in a sparring match." You brought up your hand placing one finger down. "I know its not sharpshooting I mean I got I'm one hell of a shot, but so is Owen." Another finger brought down as you focused you on Abby again.

She dropped her head staring at the ground with her fists clenched at her sides. Her entire body was trembling with anger, or maybe the overwhelming emotion she kept trying to suppress.

"I guess it could be tracking I am really good at that" You said pausing.

"You're the best tracker we got, and I know that for a fact I'd be dead. If it wasn't for your tracking skills back when we got trapped in that cave during the blizzard." Abby said loud enough for you to hear her.

The memory came back to you in an instant. Almost two years ago the two of you had to seek refuge in a random cave while patrolling the area of a nearby hotel. The suppliers were searching it top to bottom for any resources. Back then the harsh winters had depleted many of your medical supplies, and other items. The area had an infected problem, so a small team of soldiers went along for protection.

You and Abby ended up wandering a little too far while following a stray runner to a small nest. No more than ten of them which was easy enough as long as you used stealth rather than bullets. Then the storm picked up making it all but imposing to find the way back. You were a survivalist before joining up with the WLF. Your father raised you in the wilderness teaching you every skill you would need to conquer it. When the world fell apart you were a little more than ready, and you put all that knowledge to use in an effort to keep yourself and Abby alive.

"I never seen someone fight so hard to live in a world that's just easier to die in." Abby went on looking up at you now. "It wouldn't have been fast but better than being tuned right? I was ready to accept defeat but you were there going out in storm risking your life for mine. Each time returning with food, or wood for the fire. You built a wooden door to keep out some of the cold, and no matter how bad things got during those five days. You never lost hope, or that cheerful attitude of yours."

The fear in her eyes dissolved to be replaced with adoration and the look warmed your entire body. "You never run out of it you know. It doesn't matter how bleak the situation is. And before I met you y/n I lost all that after my dad died. I lost all hope for a better world I didn't believe there was a single thing worth fighting for anymore. Owen was the only reason I kept going, but we fell apart so it wasn't the same. Then you made me see again just how beautiful the world can be. Because if my love for you isn't the most beautiful feeling I don't know what is. There I said it I fucking love you alright, and my biggest fear in this world is losing the person I love the most again. So please come down."

The speech that led to her confession caught you off guard hitting you like a ton of bricks. Her words tugged on all your heartstrings till they came loose, and tears of happiness clouded your vision. "Damn it Abby I love you would've done just fine." You said with a teary chuckle wiping your eyes on your shirt. One of your feet lost its footing and you stumbled before finding the beam again.

"Y/N come on" Abby shouted holding out her arms as if she could catch you. If you did indeed fall from that angle. "I want kiss you so hurry up alright."

The statement made you perk up a bit as the mischief came back sparkling in your eyes. "I don't know you made me work for that confession. You should have to work for our first kiss."

Her expression darkened but she smirked daring you to try her. "Y/N don't do this."

You smirked back while walking across the rest of the beam holding her eyes for the entire duration. She watched you disappear into the other tower in amusement and slight annoyance. Not wasting another second Abby bounded to the tower and climbed the ladder as fast as she could. Slowing down at the beam to take a deep breath, and doing her best not to look down. She took the first step placing one foot in front of another. Till she reached the other end your playful laughter filling her ears as you slid down the ladder. After making sure she made it across without falling, and you hit the ground running straight for the cabin.

Abby went down the ladder halfway before taking a huge leap. She didn't bother stopping to right herself giving chase almost immediately. Even with your head she started catching up to you in just a matter of seconds.

"Abby I get the bonus points for helping you face your fear right." You called out pushing your legs to go faster.

"Not a chance" Abby yelled back matching your pace.

Her arms wrapped around your waist from behind and you were yanked backwards off your feet. You let out a shriek of laughter when her fingers dug into your sides. "Abbs no" You laughed trying to break free of her grip.

Abby secured your back to her chest with a single muscular arm while her other hand continued to wreck havoc. She tickled you into you were breathless and in tears, and before you had recover. Abby turned you around in arms and pressed her lips to yours. Any breath you managed to get back into your lungs vanished again. As your eyes closed and your body melted in her arms. Lucky for you Abby kept you upright with her arms constricted around your middle.

You had dreamed of this moment more than a hundred times. Each time wondering if the real thing would live up to your fantasy. Of course the real Abby surpassed all expectations, and your questions of rather or not she knew how to kiss went out the window. Her lips moved slowly against yours in such a way. It was like she was guiding on exactly what to do, and you followed her lead eventually your hands found their place in her hair. You tugged her a bit closer and she moaned into your mouth pulling away for a fraction of a second. Before deepening the kiss swinging your body around to push you up against a tree.

The bark bit into your skin but the only thing you could focus on right then was. How your body lit up with a want no a need for Abby. It wasn't enough your toes were curling from the passion she kissed you with. You shoved against her shoulder, and Abby pulled away immediately eyes filled with concern. "Did I hurt you?"

"No but the cabin."

She scoffed. "We got plenty of time."

You flicked her forehead causing her to yelp in pain and pull back again. "What?" she whimpered eyes zeroing in on your swollen lips.

"I bet its a lot more comfortable in there way more appropriate for making out" You told her.

"That would be inappropriate behavior" Abby started nuzzling your neck. Her lips drifted to your ear "good thing I'm in charge huh." You squealed in surprise as she lifted you in arms bridal style, and began to carry you to the cabin.

Where the two of you would stay for a few more days, and long nights. Consequences be damned this time.

#abby anderson x reader #abby anderson imagine #abby anderson tlou2 #abby tlou2 #abby the last of us #abby anderson #tlou2 x reader #tlou2

569 notes · View notes

thealtoduck · 5 months

Text

Working in Madame Xanadu’s parlor and meeting Garfield Logan…

Garfield Logan x Male Reader

Warnings: none

Summary: You get hired at Madame Xanadu’s Parlor and you end up meeting the several superheroes including a cute green haired boy…

(A/n: The story dosen’t take place in the Titans show, just your average dc fan universe.)

——

It all started when you were looking for a job, nothing fancy just something for a bit of pocket money. That’s when you stumbled by Madame Xanadu’s parlor where you noticed a ”Help Wanted” sign.

You looked at it for a bit. ”Am i really considering working in a fortune telling parlor…” you thought to yourself. You then decided why the hell not.

So you entered the parlor where a beautiful woman in a colorful dress was standing behind a counter. She looked at you and said ”I’ve been waiting for you”. Which left you a bit confused.

”Do you mean in like a psychic fortune teller way or did you just see me looking at the ”Help Wanted” sign through the window?” you questioned. ”Both” she answered. ”Cool” you stated and then asked ”So what sorta help are you looking for? Cause honestly i don’t know much about fortune telling”.

”Well, I’m a very busy woman so i am simply looking for someone to manage the shop, book appointments, clean and whatever else is needed” she explained. ”I could do that, i used to help my mom at her hair salon, you know sweep up hair, take care of appointments and everything” you told her.

”You’re hired” she said simply. Little did you know that you had started working for an actual fortune teller and a member of Justice League.

But it soon dawned on you as people like Wonder Woman, John Constantine and Zatanna stopped by for Madame Xanadu’s assistance. You also noticed that several objects in the parlor had actual magic powers.

Other than the magical boss, the superpowered customers and powerful magic objects and potions, it wasn’t that different from working in any other store. And fortune telling being a very niche market gave you some of free time, during which you would usually study or read a magzine.

One afternoon you were sitting behind the reception desk studying for a test when two people entered the store. A goth girl and a cute guy with green hair. They walked towards the desk and the girl asked in a slightly stressed tone ”Is Madame Xanadu here?”.

”Do you have an appointment?” you asked. ”No but it’s really important, is she here?” the girl asked again. ”Yeah, i can go see if she has time, do you have a name i can give her?” you asked. ”Rachel Roth” she said and you went in to Madame Xanadu’s fortune telling room.

Meanwhile Rachel and Gar, outside…

”That guy is kinda cute” Gar said making Rachel give him a look that said ”not the time we’re here for important stuff”.

Back to you…

She was sitting on the floor meditating. ”Uhm… Madame Xanadu, there’s a girl here named Rachel Roth, she says it’s something important, do you have time now or should i get her an appointment?” You asked.

”Send her in” Madame Xanadu said opening her eyes. You exited her room and went back to the recteption and said ”Madame Xanadu is waiting for you inside”. The girl uttered a quick ”Thanks” and went inside to meet with the fortune teller.

You went back to studying as the green haired guy looked around the parlor. He then stood himself in front of you and asked ”What are you reading? Somekind of spellbook? Or like potions book?”.

You lifted the book and showed him the cover and answered ”American history, i’m studying for a test”. ”That’s cool too” he said blushing a little. You then realised something ”Wait? you know about magic and all that stuff are you and your friend like wizards?”.

”Uhm… no but my friend is a half demon who was raised by magic monks” he explained. You nodded in understanding. You were about to continue the conversation when Madame Xanadu and Rachel suddenly came out of the room. Rachel having changed in to a cloak.

”Y/n. Me and Rachel need to travel to a magic temple to retrive a powerful artifact, I need you to look after the parlor. If i’m not back by closing time, just lock up, the key is on my desk” she told you. ”Yes, ma’am” you answered casually.

”Gar, you need to stay here” Rachel said. ”What? Why” the green haired boy questioned. ”You won’t be able to survive in there without magic so it’s best you stay here” Rachel explained and using magic to open a portal. The two magical women went through the portal and it closed as quick as it had opened.

You looked at Gar and asked ”Wanna go get some take out? There is a great place close by?”. ”Do they have good vegetarian stuff?” Gar asked. You nodded and the two of you went out.

You came back about 20 minutes later and sat down in the parlor and ate. Gar told you that he and Rachel aka Raven were part of the Teen Titans. You then explained to him how, you an average human ended up working the reception desk for a magic sorceress.

After you finished your meals Gar helped you get some studying done for your history test. Then you and him did some cleaning around the store. Once you finished the two of you sat down and talked for while, Gar even showed off his powers.

Eventually a portal opened and Madame Xanadu and Raven returned, Raven carrying some sort of weird probably magical mask. She and Gar started getting ready to leave. Gar turned to you and said ”I had a really good time tonight”.

”Me too, thanks for the help with studying and the cleaning” you said gratefully. ”No worries, anytime” he said and noticed a pen and a notepad on the desk. He took them and scribbled something down. ”Here, it’s my number in case you ever need more help studying or anything” he said handing you the note.

”Thanks” you said and Gar started walking towards the exit, you gave each other a wave goodbye. Madame Xanadu gave you a knowing look and offered ”If you want, I could get you a tarrot reading on where THAT is heading”. ”No thanks, i’d rather just wait and see what happens” you said and started getting ready to go home.

Once you got your history test back with a great big ol’ ”A” written on it you sent a text to Gar saying ”Got an A! Thanks for being a great study buddy”. A little while later Gar texted back saying ”Good job! Happy to help. What’s up next? Maybe chemistry? ;)”.

#garfield logan x male reader #garfield logan x male!reader #dc comics x male reader #dc x male reader #beast boy x male reader #beast boy x male!reader #x male!reader #x male reader #justice league x male reader #gar logan x male reader #gar logan x male!reader

273 notes · View notes

dotieeee · 3 months

Text

The Gamemaker's Apprentice

Level 7

Pairing: Dark!Young!Coriolanus Snow x You, named!Reader

Overall Warnings:

NON-CON, DUB-CON, Dark!Young!Coriolanus Snow, Snow himself should be a warning, lots of blackmailing, gaslighting, manipulation, obsession, possesiveness, eventual forced marriage, eventual loss of virginity, breeding kink, canon-compliant major character death, reader is named but has no physical descriptions in the fic so one might also consider her an OC but in 2nd POV, will have canon inconsistencies, and other stuff that may be added

Masterlist

Level 7 Warnings:

Some noncon touching and canooding (no spoilers), Snow being creepy af

Replay Level 6

Ready? Level 7 Start:

For Coriolanus Snow, his days of being unsure of himself are long gone.

Sure, he was insecure all his life because of several factors – his family’s former fall from grace being one of them – but he now has almost everything most men only dare dream of: money, some semblance of power, and a bit of fame, courtesy of his increasingly long list of achievements. If life continues to favour him like it recently has, he no longer has reason to doubt himself or be nervous about anything ever again.

And yet, he could’ve sworn he felt his pulse rate spike when his eyes landed on you, stepping out of that car, in that dress – like a princess that walked straight out of those fairy tale picture books he had to burn in his childhood for warmth during the winter. He had imagined what you’d look like in your dress the night before, but he never expected reality to be a thousand times better.

Coriolanus fought the urge to kiss you on the mouth and drag you somewhere more private; instead, he kissed the back of your hand, noting how soft they were as always, but he could also smell a faint hint of roses on you. His signature scent on his girl. He felt his heart swell with satisfaction.

But then, you yanked your hand away and deprived him of the softness of your skin. Almost like you were shying away from his touch. He didn’t like it one bit.

No matter – he has nothing but time tonight to show everyone in Panem, including you, who you ultimately belonged to.

He whispered to you just what he thought of you tonight. then you thanked him for his gifts. You needn’t have; he’d have been willing to pay a hundred times more than that to have seen your reaction as you opened them. He’d spoil you even more – hell, he’d already killed for you, and he’d do so again – once you’ve accepted him as the only man in your heart.

You then gave him the news of Acacius Innis’s acceptance to transfer your apprenticeship to him, which was something he already expected. It’d be foolish at this point not to; not when you know that he’s aware of those incriminating letters Sejanus had sent you.

Sejanus giving you trouble beyond the grave – what a laugh, how his dead best friend’s actions ultimately led to his first love being drawn closer to him for the taking.

He wrapped your arm around his and took you inside, finally revealing his true intention of bringing you here. He noted your wide-eyed look at him and the gasp you let out. You were nervous, that was to be expected. Moreover, you were worried about not bringing a gift for Strabo, but he’d already taken care of that, and he knows that the Plinth senior would appreciate the gift you had brought as a couple.

The party hadn’t even begun, but a lot of important people had already arrived. The moment he entered the grand hall with you in tow, he knew everyone was ogling. The longing, envious stares he got as he carted this breathtakingly beautiful woman clinging to his arm through the hall gave him an immense ego boost.

Coriolanus Snow just revealed to all of Capitol high society that he bagged the smart, attractive and elusive heir to Panem’s most successful tech superpower.

The Plinth couple had been ecstatic that you had made it to the party. Ma mirrored his observation: you looked like royalty. Which you are in almost every sense, he agreed. The only thing he didn’t like was her comment about how similar his and her dead son’s tastes were in women.

Thank goodness that’s about the only thing we share, Coriolanus thought.

Then, she had to pull him in for a hug. At least, he could choose to spend his time with you and go around the room and not have to deal with her and her coddling all night.

He observed you the entire time out of the corner of his eye. The way you smiled at everyone he introduced you to, the way you engaged in conversations he knew you had no interest in, the way you laughed along when a joke was cracked, the way you drank dainty sips from a drink he knew you didn’t like – all this you were doing for his sake, much to his elation and approval. But, of course, he wasn’t about to abandon his sugarplum to fend for herself in such a foreign environment as this. Which was why, being the dutiful future husband that he is, he couldn’t let you leave his side. True, he needed you to learn how to navigate his circle as his future betrothed, but if his girl ever needed his help and support, he’d be there to readily give it.

While he was pretending to be interested in a conversation with Mr Rutherford about the profits he had raked in the last quarter from investing in organic food company stocks, he used this precious time wisely to survey the crowd with his keen eyes.

There was a time in his life when everything he did, he did for the sake of being welcomed within their ranks. But in his short exile from them, he had discovered something for and within himself: what good is acceptance, really, when he can settle for absolute authority? This crowd, and all the others, he will one day herd. These sheep , with their mindless chatter and their lavish clothes and their overdone makeup and their non-existent inhibition.

And Coriolanus is more than aware that among these sheep are wolves. These wolves, with their noses high in the air sniffing, and their hungry eyes aiming for rare, fresh meat – he needed to be steadfast in fending them all off and keeping them from sinking their rabid fangs into you.

One such wolf he’d already scared off: Ovidius Browne, a name he’d seen among endless piles of paper in Acacius Innis’s office (that he may have snuck in when you were busy rifling through computer parts he couldn’t name). So pure-of-heart were you that you failed to see right through the youngest Browne’s attempts at beguiling you for a third chance at securing an internship with your uncle. There will be many others like him too, but after this party, anyone who’s hoping for a chance with you will never get their hopes up ever again.

Even when he introduced you to Dr Gaul, he watched your interaction the entire time in case she did anything that might freak you out. Thankfully all she did was compliment you in her usual, eerie fashion. Even he gets unnerved by her at times, and he has the mild displeasure of working under her wing.

In other words, Coriolanus cared because you’re his , and he was the only son and heir of the great war hero and military general Crassus Snow. His father’s blood was also his, and the Snows protect what’s rightfully theirs with all their might. He was convinced that’s all there was to it.

And yet, he couldn’t help noticing how very little you ate during the following dinner, or that you had snuck off instantly somewhere and lost to his view. He had scanned almost anxiously for you among the unremarkable faces in the grand hall before successfully locating the hint of a red silk dress behind one of the hall’s stone columns, right next to the bar, as if you were hiding on purpose just to get some time to yourself alone. Had he overwhelmed you? Had this little test of his proved too taxing for you?

He had to ask you during the dance, and although your response was vague, he could tell by the way you smiled at him humourlessly: you were exhausted, and yet you were still trying your best to conceal it. Putting up a façade despite being sapped of energy brought about by fraternising with people you barely know.

All for his sake.

It was enough to make his heart melt.

That, and the dance you had executed so perfectly, awakened something in him that he’d been trying so hard to suppress, especially in your presence.

“You’re so intoxicatingly beautiful,” he whispered.

It was true in every way. If only you could look into his eyes, for once.

Why were you avoiding his gaze, anyway? Were you angry with him? Why were you closing off all of a sudden?

The dance ended quicker than he anticipated. He could see that you were attempting to hide your heavy breathing from him, even though the dance wasn’t that strenuous. Perhaps, you needed some air, away from this place and from everyone else, even if only momentarily?

So, with nothing but your well-being in mind, he took you to the rich inner gardens of The Palisades, just outside the grand hall.

You were thankful that he did, you said, as you leaned against the stone wall. Coriolanus had his eyes glued on you collected yourself. His gaze was first on your figure, still tense, then to your chest, heaving slowly as you steadied your breath…

He found his thoughts going astray as he stared at the base of your neck, imagining angry, red-purplish welts all over that smooth supple skin – his work of art – all while he suckled and bit down on the flesh he hadn’t yet marked. He went on further to your lips, picturing himself kissing them raw while you kissed him back just as passionately…

He was thankful he had his hands behind his back, or he would’ve grabbed you and made his imagination come to life.

Still, that arousal coursing through his veins refused to let up, and instead travels down to his groin, making his cock twitch.

He needed to do something about that.

So, when he saw you stand to your full height, he made a rather lame excuse of wanting to show you something, and hauled you by the arm, settling for the dimly lit, hedge-growth-covered greenhouse, where he vaguely remembered seeing rose beds. He was grateful that he found the door unlocked, so he gestured for you to get in first and instructed you to find the roses before locking the door behind him.

He had a goal now: to somehow seek relief for that aching itch you had awakened. It was partly your fault, after all.

If he could just latch his lips on you…he just needed a taste, maybe leave just a single little bruise…

He almost sighed as he wrapped his arms around you and whispered just what he’d been dying to do the moment he saw you.

He manoeuvred your body to face him and finally claimed your lips.

Coriolanus Snow knew of nothing else the moment he did.

He slipped his tongue inside your mouth to get a taste of you and pushed you into the wall. This overwhelming need to feel your heat against him made him press himself on you, but that wasn’t enough for him. You weren’t kissing him back, which irked him a bit. He cupped one side of your face to angle your head so he could kiss you deeper, wanting to burrow his tongue inside your mouth further.

He’d known hunger for most of his life, but never this kind.

But then, you had to turn away, when he hadn’t even had his fill. This frustrated him, your lack of response. This time, both his hands encased each side of your head so he could go back to satiating that appetite you had incited in him. When you refused to open your mouth for him, he nibbled at your lower lip, which made you gasp and finally allow him access.

Until he felt your palms push him away insistently.

He drew his head back in disbelief. You had been holding back from him the entire night, but this was an entirely new wall you put up. Why were you suddenly rejecting him? Hadn’t he been good to you? Had he not showered you with enough gifts? Hadn’t he shown you all night just how much he cared for your well-being?

Something put you off, that much he knew. So, he made up some excuse about having drunk too much alcohol to try and placate you as he rested his forehead on your temple.

Then, he vaguely heard you say you wanted to go home because of school.

Who’s making excuses, now?

He began kissing your temple, your cheek, any part of you his lips could reach. When he corrected you on the date, you mentioned something about helping your uncle.

Now, this was just downright insult. Why would you still work for the Innis prick, when you already work for him? He couldn’t help snapping at you, telling you to skip it, before he could amend his tone and state how your uncle had someone else to help him with whatever the hell it was he was making you do.

If you could just let him do what he wanted so he could go back to thinking of anything else besides how much he wanted to stake his claim on you.

He smirked against your cheek when you admitted defeat and hastened to squeeze your chin lightly between his forefinger and thumb so he could take care of unfinished business. He ran his fingers on your back, all the way to the back of your neck, gripping it and slanting your head so he could caress the groove of your jaw.

He moved to your neck after, this time, not being able to resist tasting that exposed skin...

But then, you begged him to stop.

Coriolanus almost ignored your plea, but there was something in him that made him pull away.

Was it the way you had asked him that made him let go of you?

He studied your face with a tense jaw. Your lips were swollen and puffy because of his kiss, your cheeks flushed with emotion, your eyes looking like you were about to cry but you were trying to hold it in...

It was the most beautiful fucking thing he had ever laid eyes on. He could’ve fucked you right then and there, had his way with you as he’d always fantasised, consequences be damned, had he not been thinking straight.

But instead, he suppressed that urge and quelled that arousal that was already halfway through manifesting. He figured the last thing he wanted to do was to scare you further away.

He took you back to the party as you had requested, catching another couple making out in the bushes, who turned out to be a couple you had met earlier. Mildly amused at the scene, he felt a little smug being seen coming out of the greenhouse with you in tow – if the girl was who he thought she was, he wouldn’t mind her spreading a little rumour about a young gamemaker and his pretty apprentice emerging from an obvious tryst in the hotel greenhouse.

It was close to midnight when the Plinth couple sent the both of you home, instructing Coriolanus to escort you back to Corso III. He could tell you were upset by the tense silence between you. Clearly, even with his display of self-control, he had gotten carried away and might’ve unsettled you with his actions.

So what if he spooked you a little, anyway? With the incriminating letter from Sejanus, he knew you’d be reluctant not to cater to his whims, let alone refuse him. He had a half-mind to signal the driver to take them to his apartment instead, where he could simply... continue what you had interrupted.

Instead, he just pecked you on the cheek before watching you run away from him, into your building and out of his sight. Whatever it was that compelled him to take a step backwards that night, he was sure it was only due to his gentlemanly nature.

As he got home, however, the thought of you withdrawing from him so abruptly weighed on his mind, especially since he had been so successful with getting you to be more open to him. Maybe he had indeed scared you with the threat of exposing your culpability with that stupid letter and this was just you complying with his wishes so he wouldn’t turn you in.

Unless this was some sort of ruse on your part to throw him off. He’d be foolish to put it past you and underestimate you, given your clever nature and your propensity for intrepid, often brash decisions.

His sweet, innocent little Nellie, playing a game?

Normally, he wouldn’t stand for anyone throwing a wrench in his plans, but if he was being honest with himself, watching you trying to one-up him could be an amusing form of entertainment. Like watching a cute kitten struggle as its mother holds it in its mouth, knowing it can’t escape. Plus, it had been a while since he had any fun. After all, what kind of husband-to-be was he if he wasn’t going to indulge his little sugarplum?

It certainly made for an interesting foreplay.

A little over one in the morning later. He still couldn’t sleep and he still had his mind on you…and on your lips, and the slope of your neck, and the way he imagined you arching your back against him as he drove himself inside you over and over…

So he dealt with this distraction, having no choice but to settle for an alternative.

The woman that arrived didn’t really resemble you, but he had to make do. He sent her home at three in the morning with her sobbing pathetically as she picked up the money he left for her on the dresser. He may have said some things to her he didn’t actually mean, but she got the job done. Still, as he tossed and turned in his bed, he wondered what it’d be like to just have you lying on his bed, him snuggling close to your warmth while he wrapped his arms around you and tucked you under his chin.

As he was duty-bound to do, he assured himself. That’s all there was to it.

You lumber out of bed to the kitchen with one eye closed as the mid-morning sun hits you squarely in the face while you nurse a pounding headache. Your brain decides to add to your misery, screaming only a single word repeatedly in your head: coffee.

There’s plenty in the pot, you discover with much gratefulness. You pour yourself some of the warm, fresh brew absently, almost overfilling the cup before noticing your mistake.

Great. No more space for milk or sugar.

“Fun party last night, plumcake?”

The annoyingly smug man you call your uncle sniggers over his plate. That smirk on his face stays on even as he pours an alarming amount of syrup on his cinnamon roll.

“I’m sure my cinnamon roll didn’t do that to you,” he quips, referring to the glare you’re sending on its way. He makes a small noise of approval when he eats a forkful before taking a sip of his coffee. Your stomach makes a little noise to remind you that aside from the cake you inhaled last night, you had eaten very little.

When you finally make a decent cup for yourself, you join him on the kitchen counter, where he takes a cinnamon roll from the tray beside him and places it on a plate. He pushes the pastry towards you. You don’t bother with cutlery this time and copy him, pouring just as much of the frosting before grabbing it with your bare hands and sinking your teeth into it.

Uncle Cas makes the best cinnamon rolls ever.

The baker in question finishes his plate and comments, “I hope you didn’t eat like that last night.”

You find yourself laughing along, having already been energised by sugar and coffee. Your uncle then sets his plate aside to make room for the newspaper sitting on the edge of the counter.

“Nothing like fresh propaganda together with your morning coffee,” he drolls.

A comfortable silence ensues between the two of you as you dig into your second cinnamon roll. You bask in the calming sound of the news pages being rhythmically flipped back and forth. It seems like aeons ago since the last time you had eaten breakfast with your Uncle Cas on such a peaceful morning, without a care in the world except for written exams, term papers, and practical exams that involve testing dummy software you helped your uncle develop in secret.

You’ve turned into a different person since then.

Your uncle eventually puts the paper down and announces that he’s leaving for uni after lunch. He asks if you’re coming with him as he makes himself another cup of coffee. You decide against it. Maybe you deserve a little downtime today before you’re thrown into the lion’s den on Monday. You tell him no, and he nods in approval before going off to his office, taking his mug with him. You notice that he left the newspaper on the counter, and while you don’t normally read the news out of habit, you decide to give it a go after making out several words that include ‘business tycoon’ and ‘birthday party’ at the bottom of the front page.

True enough, there is a mention of Strabo’s grand birthday celebration on the front page, which continues in the lifestyle section. It goes on flatteringly about the Plinths’ success in the ammunitions industry and their efforts against the rebellion, plus the names of Panem’s aristocrats in attendance. You grimace at the mention of your name alongside your new mentor.

“…Spotted at the star-studded birthday celebration of the Plinth patriarch is the honorary Plinth heir, Coriolanus Snow, victor to the 10th Hunger Games and the newly appointed, youngest Gamemaker in Panem history, and with him, Prunella Innis, heir to the Innis Tech empire, whom young Snow has taken under his wing as his new and only gamemaker-apprentice. Snow has recently gained popularity over his groundbreaking innovations…”

The article does a decent job of analysing the different lifestyle trends at the party, including the theme, the set design, and even the food, but if you thought a mere mention of your name flustered you a little, you get to the section of the article discussing the fashion trends, accompanied by an entire colour page of nothing photographs, some posed and some candidly taken, of the attendants at the party.

A photo of you and Coriolanus Snow is smack-dab in the middle, one of the largest in the set of pictures. It isn’t the inclusion of the photo on the paper that perturbs you, but the photo itself: it captured you and Coriolanus facing close to each other, his arm wrapped around your waist and his lips close to your ear as if whispering something to you, probably to point your attention to someone he knows from across the room. You don’t remember exactly when or where at the party the picture was taken because you carried out several conversations that way. Maybe it’s your stomach complaining at the abrupt presence of that much food after being empty for close to twelve hours, or maybe it just churns in offence at how it looks almost intimate. Perhaps it was chosen among many for exactly the same reasons. The caption underneath the photo mirrors your observation.

“The Gamemaker and His Apprentice: Coriolanus Snow and Prunella Innis, both looking sharp and elegant in matching crimson couture and adoringly inseparable at last night’s festivities.”

On second thought: maybe being at the University where you can be busy and distracted from your thoughts is the best way to go. With a sigh of defeat, you get up from your cosy spot on the counter and begrudgingly begin the preparations.

The car Coriolanus mentioned would take you to the Citadel picks you up at nine. Your new mentor is already waiting for you just before the grey hallway leading to the elevator. He smiles his usual disarming smile as you hit his line on vision which you return, hoping with your might that he doesn’t make a sudden move to touch you or kiss you again on your lips or your head or anywhere else.

“Good morning, Nellie,” he greets with his hands in his pockets.

You’re grateful he decided to be professional. He leads the way to the elevator, taking you underground to your uncle’s former floor. This being your second visit to this massive underground complex doesn’t make it feel like less of a descent towards the deepest circle of hell.

The elevator door opens to reveal a rather underwhelming hallway, still grey, but starkly different from the open layout of the Genetics floor. You wordlessly follow Coriolanus as he makes a left turn, passing several doors on the way. Whatever’s inside those doors can’t be much worse than what you saw before meeting the jabberjays. You both reach a nondescript door, which he opens by scanning a proximity card on a sensor on the wall. The door beeps open, revealing a world you’d never thought you’d see.

Instead of grey walls and glass cages, you’re greeted by rows upon rows of supercomputers in varying heights, all with blinking lights, thick, tangled cords and button-and-knob panels, emitting tiny clicking and beeping noises as they do their job containing presumably the brains of your uncle’s entire Games project. Despite the cold temperature required to cool the entire structure, you pace forward without hesitation, gaping in awe at the sight of the colossal pieces that make up your uncle’s work, while Coriolanus merely hangs back to watch your reaction.

For a few seconds, you forget everything else. This was your uncle’s domain – now, it’s yours.

“I have to admit,” Coriolanus begins, interrupting your daydream. “I am overwhelmingly out of my element here, but if anyone can handle this task aside from Mr Innis, it would be you.”

Coriolanus approaches, his steps echoing despite the supercomputers’ cacophony, his friendly smile looking more sinister as his face is bathed in the blinking lights. Another figure emerges from the shadows at the end of the aisle you’re in – someone you had hoped you’d never interact with ever again.

Volumnia Gaul, with her wiry hair and mismatched eyes and her pristine lab coat and her creepy leer, has her hands clasped before her as she begins speaking.

“Ms Innis. Welcome to my team. I trust you find your new work environment to your satisfaction.”

At least I don’t have to face a human head with wings for ears. “Thank you for having me, Dr Gaul.”

“I trust you have been briefed by your new mentor on your job description. I need not remind you that the task you are about to undertake is crucial to the future of the Hunger Games, and therefore requires aptitude, might and relentlessness, the way I know only an Innis possesses.

“Your uncle, Acacius Innis, paved the way for this very room’s existence, which is why his skills were seen fit to lead an advanced department that is to be the Capitol’s safeguard to a new digital age. In consequence, this brainchild of his lies stillborn, and who better to breathe it to life than his very own blood?”

Her sinister smile widens as she takes further steps towards you. “I could not approve more of Mr Snow’s choice of partnership.”

Dr Gaul stops a mere few feet away, sandwiching you between two ominous figures from whom escape is impossible. Any joy you felt entering your uncle’s previous work abode is effectively siphoned and replaced by an almost stifling sense of foreboding. This is a room where mistakes aren’t welcome.

“Mr Snow has told me you helped your uncle build the source code.”

That wasn’t a question, you notice. “Yes, Dr Gaul.”

She clasps both hands in barely contained perverse delight, the sound resounding in the room. “Most excellent, indeed! Then you will find no trouble seeing it to completion and Alpha testing in no time. Your mentor shall ensure you will have everything you need.”

She strides past you and falls beside the mentor in question, patting his shoulder with her gloved palm.

“I expect great things from you. From both of you.”

With a final glance between you two, she steps out of the room, taking the air of terror with her.

“They should be here any minute,” Coriolanus says.

Half of it, anyway.

“Who would they be?”

“Your uncle’s team of computer engineers.”

A male and a female, both in their late thirties, enter the room and greet both of you formally before introducing themselves as Filibert and Faustine Finley. They both wear the same white lab coats as Dr Kay.

“Around here, they call me F1,” says Filibert, “And my sister, F2.”

“Pleasure to meet you both. And please call me Nellie. Are you twins?” you ask as you shake both their hands.

F2 beams proudly as she adjusts her glasses. “Triplets, actually. Our brother, Felicien, works the night shift and, you guessed it, he’s called F3.”

Cute. If they had another sibling, they’d be calling them F4, then maybe you could Alt+F4 the fuck out of here.

They seem nice, though, and they recount their days working for Acacius Innis, whom they say they admire tremendously for his genius.

“We built this thing under his close supervision,” F1 explains, waving a hand in the air to indicate the supercomputers. “Anything even remotely hardware-related we take care of.”

F2 places a palm over her chest as she gushes in praise of Uncle Cas. “But the software? It’s all him. He never lets us touch it, and for good reason. He’s protective of his work and I can’t blame him, it’s his little baby. Promoting him as head of Cybersecurity was just a matter of time. The only shame here is we don’t get to see him around, anymore.”

F1 just rolls his eyes and smirks at you. “Translation: she has a crush on your uncle.”

“I do not!” F2 exclaims, adjusting her frames to presumably hide the blush creeping to her cheeks. “Anyway, we’re honoured to be working with you, Nellie. We were wondering when we’d see you. Apparently, all it took was Mr Snow.”

Coriolanus acknowledges this with a small dip of his head and inquires if the office is ready. They tell him that F3 finished the inspection last night and it should be good to go. You bid the siblings farewell, then saunter to another, much smaller room two doors down. It’s equipped with four identical computer stations fitted with four monitors each, placed side by side. Your mentor leads you to the one located at the end of the room, partially separated from the other four with a thick, translucent glass barrier. The station is fitted with six larger screens, and what you thought initially was a file cabinet is actually a cluster of processors connected to the workstation. You could easily tell by the bouquet of red roses on the keyboard that the station is yours.

“This is you, Nellie,” Coriolanus faces you with a fond smile. “They built me a station right beside the triplets, but unfortunately, I can’t be here the entire time.”

You try not to show relief on your face when he reveals that.

He opens a drawer on the desk and hands you a proximity card. He explains that the card works for all rooms on this floor. He also gives you an electronic device the size of your palm. You’ve seen this device in one of your uncle’s sketches before.

“I take it you’re familiar with this,” he says. “They call it the Communicuff 2. Everyone working in the Citadel has one. We can send each other voice messages using this whenever we’re away from our stations. You leave it here before you go home.”

“Was this my uncle’s?” you ask as you approach the cluster. You flip a switch and the entire thing turns on, along with the rest of the monitors.

He nods once. “This is where the great Acacius Innis did his groundbreaking work. And now, it’s yours.” He lets out a suppressed chuckle as he observes your expression. “No pressure, Nellie. I’m always here if you need me.”

Before he steps out of the office – your office, now – he says he’ll be dropping by anytime to check your progress.

Yeah. No fucking pressure, indeed.

Your initial suspicion of your uncle trying to stall the project was correct.

In only the first three days of working on the same station your uncle has worked on for years, you discover exactly why.

You were scrambling to finish what was left of the program to code, while simultaneously running automated unit testing in the background on the finished code to save time. The first and second unit testing results looked as intended and everything seemed working just fine. It even detailed significant improvements to the facial recognition software on the drones that will be used to send the tributes food, water, weapons, and other valuables. The third result was the one that baffled you.

You’ve seen the functions your uncle demonstrated in that simulation of his, but an entirely new addition to the list deeply disturbs you to the core. The program seems to have been built with an unsupervised machine-learning algorithm that has been programmed to learn, track, and store tribute movement using motion-tracking capabilities installed in the cameras’ software. It also indicates the need for tribute input – information obtained through retina-scanning, available footage captured from within the tribute enclosure, anything that could be uploaded into the supercomputer – which the algorithm analyses with frightening speeds. This means the program, if continuously fed with enough tribute data, has the added skill of calculating and projecting the winning odds in percentage with almost ninety-six percent accuracy. Even the mentors’ consoles get a preview of how the numbers would change before they hit ‘send’ on any item.

Your mentor arrives on time to get his progress report just as you make this discovery. You try not to show just how freaked out you are, and conceal the fact that Acacius Innis may have neglected his tasks to the Citadel on purpose, which would likely get him in trouble.

“That is excellent news, Nellie,” Coriolanus exclaims in delight. All he sends on your way are words of praise. He invades your personal space you stare at the results on your screens, his face merely inches away from yours.

The pungent smell of roses on him doesn’t help the mounting dread you’re feeling.

“This is going to revolutionise audience betting in the Games. It’s brilliant!”

It also portrays the tributes as mere pawns in a high-stakes betting game, which defeats Acacius Innis’s purpose of building the program in the first place.

Your uncle would never willingly allow such a dehumanising algorithm added to his creation, which makes you conclude he was pressured, maybe even coerced, to add it in. All traces of your uncle’s soul, sucked out of his brainchild with a single added feature.

You almost recoil as a kiss is planted on your temple courtesy of the man beside you.

“I’m so proud of you, sugarplum,” he whispers in your ear.

Your heart rate goes on overdrive as flashes of the events at the greenhouse invade your thoughts.

Surely, he isn’t foolish enough to try anything within the Citadel, given that each crevice in this hellish place is being monitored by cameras?

Coriolanus draws back, perhaps distracted from the sound of the printer churning out his copy of the results summary. He dons on a professional smile. “What’s the next stage to this?”

“Uh, hang on…” You’re still flustered by his previous closeness and your recent discovery of the new feature. “Assuming I get the rest of the code done, and perform the needed unit testing on said code, the next level should be integration testing.” He tilts his head at the term curiously, so you add to clarify, “It’s a stage where we combine all the components of the program – the camera system and motion-tracking, the drones’ system and facial recognition, the software we use for vital signs, the environment control system – to run and test them as a single organism. We’ll obtain detailed performance reports on how each of these systems interact and grade them based on the seamlessness and the speed of information exchange.”

“That means we will need to set up a testing ground pretty soon,” he concludes. “Give me an estimate. How soon?”

“Six days, maybe a week, tops.”

You’re mentor’s jaw tenses. Obviously, he’s unsatisfied with your approximation. He grabs the nearest computer chair to sit right beside you.

“I heard your uncle built this in just a week,” he says with a controlled smile. You know that smile: it’s the one he uses when things don’t quite go his way.

“Well, he left it unfinished,” you can’t help but talk back.

“That may be true, and it did take him over a year to make any progress after, but you know what I think, Nellie?”

That mirthless smirk of his widens, indicating impending danger.

“I think he was stalling.”

You hold his gaze to avoid confirming his suspicion. “I don’t think he was; he probably just lost motivation. This is a creative process, after all.”

A humourless chortle escapes your mentor’s lips. “Four days. Finish this by Tuesday next week. We’re targeting to test this as soon as the day after.”

A resounding beep is heard, and Coriolanus fishes his communicuff from his pocket. He doesn’t play the voice and instead gets to his feet, adjusting his coat as he adds to your list of tasks. “Also, have the triplets prepare a list of the equipment we’re going to need for the test. I’ll need it this Friday. Everything on that list will be provided for, you have my word. I must go, Dr Gaul will be needing these.” He takes the papers from the printer and tucks them neatly inside a brown envelope branded ‘top secret.’

Uncle Cas could be a slavedriver, but Coriolanus Snow is a full-blown tyrant.

Before he treads past your cubicle to leave, he makes one more addition:

“Come with me for dinner tonight at seven. I made the reservations.”

It’s almost the weekend, and for Coriolanus Snow, that just means more work – catching up on some of the reading material his boss had suggested he peruse, visiting the Plinths for their weekly Sunday dinner, making connections with important people by way of drinking – so he’s looking forward to a night of restful sleep before his duties call on him once more.

If only you shared the same sentiment.

He finds you slumped on your desk, your chin resting on clasped hands as you watch your multiple screens with bleary eyes, struggling to keep them open. On your desk are two empty mugs, their contents long gone leaving nothing but coffee bean dregs at the bottom.

You look up at him with a weary smile, but he sees right through your attempt at masking just how exhausted this project is making you.

“It’s nearly ten, sugarplum. Why don’t we grab a late-night dinner and call it a day?” He asks. He feels a pang of guilt while observing the dullness in your gaze and the circles around your eyes. Bone-tired, and still pretty.

“Can I take a rain check? My boss gave me a tight deadline.” Your usual jesting tone is half-hearted but still brings out a light chuckle from him.

You’re the only one who can make him laugh without even trying.

He decides right then and there to grab a chair and keep you company.

“What are you doing?” you ask with that adorable, confused look. That face you make with your eyebrows slightly drawn together, your lips puckered a little.

Coriolanus shrugs. “I’m your mentor. I refuse to leave my apprentice’s side when she’s working so hard to impress me.”

A notification pops up on your screen, which you move to address with a few taps on your keyboard.

“Are you hungry?” he asks. He purses his lips in disapproval when you shake your head.

“When was the last time you ate something? Coffee doesn’t count,” he rapidly adds, anticipating your response. He raises an eyebrow when you tell him of that croissant you had for lunch.

“That hardly counts, sugarplum,” he chastises. “I’ll get you something from the cafeteria. You stay here.”

He doesn’t wait for your response and steps out of the office at once. A few minutes later, he makes his way back with a Reuben sandwich in a paper bag and a bottle of juice, a meagre fare compared to what he knows you deserve.

He cares because any lapse in your health may reflect on his leadership, and because it’s his duty as your husband-to-be.

But then, he finds his heart melting again with the sight of you that greets him: fast asleep on your desk, using your arm as a makeshift pillow. He sheds his coat and places it on you, careful not to rouse you. The program can wait. You’re more important.

He sits on the empty computer chair beside you, watching you breathe steadily. He feels this intense...thing in his chest that doesn't seem to let up even when he takes a lock of your hair and strokes it. In fact, the feeling just amplifies when his fingers land on your cheek.

You stir a little at the contact and let out a tiny, humming noise.

He couldn’t be...could he?

“Mr Snow.”

Coriolanus takes his hand off you with a start. He glances at you in a panic, afraid he’s woken you up, but you’re still thankfully in slumber. He addresses the woman who managed to enter the office without him even hearing the door beep.

“Dr Gaul.”

She looks even more menacing with the office’s dim lighting. She places a finger to her lips and makes a shushing sound. “Careful you don’t wake your precious little pet,” she whispers toothily. “I’m calling it a night. I will see you this Monday.” She disappears through the door with a high-pitched giggle.

Coriolanus releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding in. He is absolutely sure involving personal matters in a professional setting isn’t doing him any favours (he’s practically made himself vulnerable by not paying attention to his surroundings), but at this moment, staring at your peaceful, sleeping figure swathed in his coat, he can’t bring himself to care.

Enter Level 8

Author notes:

Please reblog and comment, it's always appreciated!!!

Please note that I am no software developer, so despite my postponing writing due to research, there may be errors in my use of the terms. More Citadel work next chapter, and things are just about to get worse for dear reader!! Also please bear with me a little more, this is getting more slowburn-ish that I thought 😅😅

Also, what could this intense thing Snowball is feeling possibly be?? Hmmm...

#dark!coriolanus snow #dark!coriolanus snow x reader #young!coriolanus snow #young!coriolanus snow x reader #named!reader #or #x OC2ndPOV #18+ only #dark!coriolanus snow fic #dark!coriolanus #dark!coriolanus fic #dark!fic

113 notes · View notes

lamentationsofalonelypotato · 20 days

Text

You Call It Madness But I Call It Love

Chapter 11: I Can't Think With You Yelling At Me!

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy. This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter eleven of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)

Word Count: 6.2K

Warnings: References to sex, Cursing, Drinking, Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, a little OOC, Angst.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. Reader is described as "curvy" occasionally. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

A/N: This one takes a bit of a turn guys, but I promise I know what I'm doing. :) Maybe? Probably?

********************************************

Previously:

Suddenly your phone rings, shattering the still silence in your apartment. For a second you hope that it's Butcher returning your call, but when you answer, it's not Butcher.

"Hello?"

"I need you." The familiar voice says.

Shit.

*********************************************

Present Day

“Thank you so much for coming!” Rosemary says dragging you through the front door of her two-bedroom apartment. “The sitter cancelled and I’ve got 5 minutes to make it to the hospital.”

Her dark brown hair frizzes out of a messy bun at the back of her head waving as she emphasizes her point with rapid hand gestures. The dusting of freckles across her cheeks catches in the light from the open windows at the back of her apartment as she traverses through the minefield of toys and children's books sprawled over the bright blue couches, the pastel rug, and the coffee table in the spacious living room.

As heartbroken as you were, you never regretted the night you and Ben spent together, because that meant you wouldn't have had Rosemary and you didn't want to imagine a world without her in it. She was the only good that came from that night. A surprise, but a welcome one. The years that followed losing Ben should have been empty, filled with an endless wandering of the world from someone who couldn’t age and couldn’t die, but they weren’t. Ben might have broken your heart, but he gave you the greatest gift. Rosemary filled the hole in your life and you wouldn’t change a thing. Even if it always ended up like this.

Well, besides the whole Ben possibly being alive this whole time and being tortured in a foreign country.

Rosemary was another reason why you had gotten out of being a supe. You didn't want that life for her and you were afraid that Vought would take her away. She was a second generation supe from two of the first and two of the most powerful supes. So for the early years of her life you lived on the coast of Maine in a small town, making sure that Rosemary had as normal a life as she could, despite having superpowers. At first you thought that she was like Ben, she was strong, faster than the average person, and had enhanced senses, but then you realized that her powers were more like yours except Rosemary did not have to die to obtain the powers of another supe. Rosemary could replicate any ability from a supe that she touched for one day, something you both realized when she was two and started to move things telekinetically around the house after she grabbed on to your arm and wouldn't let go. Which may have been fun for her, but not for you. Chasing around a two year old that could suddenly levitate sharp objects and throw them anywhere she wished was far from your idea of a good time.

When you moved back to NYC 10 years ago, the last time you saw Legend, you decided to introduce Rosemary as your cousin whenever anyone asked, including Stan Edgar, who showed up to one of your art shows as soon as you reappeared in the city, prepared to find out if you were Indigo.

You examine your daughter’s flustered expression, the wrinkled black scrubs, and the frantic beat of her heart that thuds loudly in your ears. Rosemary looked more like Ben than you. They had the same eyes, the same dark brown hair that turned into liquid honey in the sunlight, but you were the same height and had the same nose, your father's nose to be exact. And although Rosemary should be 39, she looked barely older than 27.

But despite her resemblance to Ben, it didn’t pain you to see her. You liked to think that she was a reminder of the boy you used to know, the one that you held on to for so many years when things got hard and all you saw was Soldier Boy and not the boy you loved.

She was the only person who knew everything about you and everything about Ben. She was the only family you had left, well, except for-

“Aunty y/n!” A small pink blur leaps towards your face from the end of the couch, to latch onto your upper body like a monkey climbing a tree.

You catch your four year old granddaughter, Lou, with a smile, twirling her around in the air. Despite your relation, you made sure that Lou referred to you as aunt, as afraid as you were for exposing Rosemary to Vought, fear that they would take Lou away too haunted you at night. Rosemary also did not call you mom, except after Lou went to bed and only when she was upset.

You both figured that it was easier this way, at least until Lou was old enough to understand why you did things the way you did them.

Thankfully, Lou still hadn't presented any powers, which made you and Rosemary happy. It made finding a babysitter easier when you didn’t have to worry about a four year old picking up a couch and throwing it through a window.

Being with your family always made you feel better, despite everything that happened with yours, you always remembered what your father ingrained in you as a child- that the only real wealth in life was family.

Of course he also was the son of the man who owned more than half of the real-estate in Philadelphia and who personally invested with Andrew Carnegie and John D. Rockefeller, so he had room to make generalized statements like that.

When you first got the injection and refused to marry Howard it strained the relationship you had with your parents, well, mostly your mother. She hadn't taken it well, thought you were throwing your life away on Ben. Meanwhile your father and you continued to send letters back and forth until the day he died, despite your mother's want for him to cut ties with you. He was always supportive of what you were doing, wanted to know how Ben was, how you were, and would meet you for dinner occasionally in New York whenever he could. Ben would make an appearance every once in a while, but your mother never came, and it was always like a giant purple spotted elephant was sitting at the table beside you.

You wondered how much grief she gave your father whenever he went to see you. You had tried several times to send your mother letters, telling her of all the good you were doing, but she would send them back unopened. When your father died, you showed up to the funeral and she refused to let you sit on the pews reserved for family. Ben had come with you, and you practically had to drag him away when he started to yell back at her because he knew that despite you being all grown up, he knew that you weren’t strong enough to stand up to her.

"Hey Lou." You smile at your granddaughter. She too had Ben's brown hair, but her eyes were like yours that shone with excitement and happiness.

When Rosemary’s husband died just after Lou was born, you stepped in whenever you could to help her, that meant occasionally babysitting so Rosemary could go to work her overnight nursing shifts downtown in the emergency room.

"I missed you!" Lou hugs you around the neck. She's wearing a floral long sleeve shirt and a pair of pink overalls. Pink was her favorite color and you tried not to be reminded of the dresses your mother forced you to wear when you were younger.

"You saw me three days ago." You brush back the tangled mass of curls from her smiling face.

"Too long." Lou replies.

Rosemary breezes back into the room, toting a large bag over her shoulder. "Okay. I'm so sorry-"

"Don't apologize again!" You wave a hand. "Just go. We'll be okay."

"What are you going to do?" She roots through the bag, looking for some unseen object.

"Oh the usual. Watch Texas Chainsaw Massacre. I've heard great things about the remake-" You wanted to test if she was listening.

"Y/n!"

She passed.

"I'm kidding Rosie." You put your free hand on her shoulder, noticing the wear in her eyes and the dark circles that frame them. You try to remember if things were as hard for you when you were her age. Given that you had already been injected with Compound V and were living as a superhero you figured that they were.

Maybe when everything calms down we can all go for a long vacation somewhere.

"Okay." She sighs. Her eyes search your face for a second, brows pinching together. "Are you okay?"

You always thought her ability to read you was almost supernatural, but Rosemary wasn’t psychic.

"Um. It's been a rough few days." You shrug, adjusting your grip on Lou.

"Do you want to talk about it?" She looks worried.

"Yes. There are a few things we need to talk about. But when you get home. Go on. I can take care of the little gremlin for a few hours."

You didn't like it when she worried about you. Rosie had enough on her shoulders, she didn’t need the 90 plus years of baggage you dragged around everywhere. But what had happened over the past few days deserved a conversation. You were going to go to Russia to find out what happened to Ben and you weren't sure when you would come back or if you could. Going to Russia might mean exposing your identity, which meant you might have to cut and run. You also weren’t sure how much damage had been done after what happened with Countess. When you killed her, you had expected Vought or the police to show up at your door, but you thought that you covered your tracks pretty well. There wasn't a piece of her trailer left and no evidence to convict you, well, aside from the burned jacket in your apartment that you needed to get rid of. You were still hoping that you could salvage it, but it was doubtful.

Your thoughts drift to Rosemary and Lou. The thought of leaving them behind destroyed you, but if it meant keeping them safe from Vought, you knew that you'd have to do it. But you also wondered if you could leave them behind. They were all you had left.

"Okay. I love you." Rosie half-hugs you with her free hand.

"Love you too. Be careful."

"I love you mommy!" Lou crows as Rosemary kisses her on the head and walks out the front door.

"Alright, what do you want to do?" You ask Lou putting her down.

"PAINT!" She raises her hands over her head like a triumphant gladiator.

"I like where your head's at kid." You smile down at her. "Go get your kit, I'll meet you in the kitchen."

******************************************

When Rosemary gets home twelve hours later, Lou is asleep, but you sit up on the couch with your sketchbook.

Painting with Lou had been enough of a distraction from everything that happened the past few days and the memories of the past that kept rising at the back of your mind, but when she went to bed they started to rush back. The sketchbook had started as a way of escaping the thoughts of what you did to Countess and what she said about you and Ben, but the only thing that you could draw was him. His strong jaw, arching brow, bright green eyes, and mischievous smirk haunted you from the page in front of you.

You hadn't drawn him in over thirty years, hadn't seen him in forty, but you still remembered everything about him, his voice, his laugh, his smile… You had to actively shut off your brain to stop from thinking about him, but none of the usual tricks were working. All you could think about was what if he was alive out there and if the Russians had been torturing him all these years. He was alone.

Did he think that no one cared about him? That no one wanted him?

Yes you hated what he did to you, and as much as you wished that you didn't care, you did. And as much as he hurt you, the Ben you knew would have never left you to rot, he would have come for you and you knew that was what you needed to do for him. The problem now would be telling Rosemary.

Your daughter knew about him. You’d never held anything back when she asked you about her father, including the reason why you two "broke up." In hindsight it was probably not the greatest decision you'd made to tell her exactly what happened, but it was nice to have someone to confide in. And the two of you didn't keep secrets from one another.

"Hey." She whispers with a heavy sigh, collapsing onto the couch beside you. Rosemary drags here eyes around the apartment. "Did you clean?"

"Yeah. It was a bit messy." You smile, shutting the sketchpad so she can't see the page. "Plus I figured it would be nice to be able to sit on the couch without getting probed by one of Lou’s toys."

"Yeah. Don't think I need another little mermaid toy 'exploring' the secrets of the cave, if you know what I mean."

You laugh at her. "How was the shift?"

"Bleh."

"That good?"

"Mhmm." She leans her head against your bicep.

"You know I've been thinking," You put your arm around her shoulders. "Maybe we should all just get away for a few days. We haven't been to the coast in a while. And Lou loves the beach-"

"Don't you have that big show coming up next month?"

"Yeah, but I’ve been feeling a little bit uninspired. I'm thinking about postponing.”

She sits up to look at you, suspicious. "Alright, what's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong-"

Everything is wrong and I have no idea how to tell you what I need to.

“You have never once postponed a show before.” She raises an eyebrow. "And you’re the worst liar.”

"I’m not lying I am feeling a little bit uninspired.”

"Mom."

"Fine." But you still have no idea how to start the conversation.

How do I tell her that it’s possible her father has been alive this whole time and that he’s currently being held against his will in a Russian Lab? Why is this my life? What did I do to deserve this?

"Is this about Crimson Countess?" Rosemary asks, nudging her shoulder into yours.

"What?" Your head snaps up.

"Her death was on the news. I figured that hearing her name again would make you feel a little-" She moves her head back and forth trying to decide on the word. "Weird."

"It's partly that." You bite the inside of your cheek. "I'm going out of town for a few days-"

Oh and I killed Crimson Countess.

"Where?"

"I can't tell you?" Your face scrunches up as you say it.

"What?"

You sigh and rise from the couch, pacing in front of it. How do I explain this? How do I tell her?

"Why can't you tell me where you’re going? Is this another retreat for your art again? Like when you went camping?“ She almost sounds hopeful, as if that will make any of this okay.

Nothing is okay.

"A few days ago some men showed up at my apartment looking for me."

"Really? Why?"

"They wanted to know about Ben."

Rosie frowns at the mention of her father’s name. “Why? He's dead. And it's been what? 40 years?" She pulls one of the multicolored pillows into her lap, smoothing her finger over the stripes. The shift in her mood is obvious.

"I don't know. They introduced themselves as government agents and I told them the usual lie about Indigo being my mother and that she was dead. And told them a limited amount of information-"

"I still don't see why you have to leave for a few days?" She interrupts.

You press your lips into a tight line.

This is not going to end well.

Rosemary frowns. “What did you do?”

How can she read me so well? I'm her mother, I should be the one doing the reading!

"Alright, I'm going to say something and you can't freak out." Your hands are clasped in front of your chest tightly, trying to think of a way to tell her that you killed Countess.

"What?"

"Promise me."

"I promise."

"I killed her." You say it slowly, gauging her reaction.

"Who?"

"Crimson Countess. I lost control and I killed her."

"What?" Rosie rises from the couch so quickly you think she's flying. "You killed Crimson Countess?"

"Shhh. You're going to wake Lou. And what happened to the promise-" You look down the darkened hallway where your granddaughter is asleep in her room.

Because that's just what the situation needs, for Lou to find out I'm a murderer.

"Fuck the promise! Why were you even with her?" Rosemary asks you, her eyes are still wide.

"That's why it's complicated-"

"Uncomplicate it now." She puts her hands on her hips looking ridiculously like your mother.

"I went there because I started to think about how Ben died, and I realized that I never heard it from her. I heard it from Legend and from Stan Edgar and I wanted to-“

"So you killed her?"

"She said a lot of things that upset me, but she also told me that-" The words catch in the back of your throat. "That Ben might not be dead."

"He's what?" She shouts.

"Rosemary I'm serious you have to stop shouting. Your neighbors are going to call the cops and that's the last thing I want right now."

"Well obviously because you murdered someone and covered it up!"

"Please get off the high horse. She wasn’t a good person.” You snap before you can stop yourself.

Guess the guilt is gone. Honestly, what guilt?

"Fine." She closes her eyes and takes in a deep breath. "Go on."

"The Russian army took him. Which means that there's a possibility he's still alive and I need to know." You didn't expect her to understand why you needed to go. You just hoped that she would let you.

"Are you kidding? This guy did terrible things to you and to other people! He said horrible things to you and you're going to go help him? I say just leave him to rot!” Her green eyes flash around the room, familiar in a way that makes your heart ache.

Her harsh words hurt. Rosemary only knew what you’d told her about her father and although you tried to tell her about the way Ben was when he was younger as she got older Rosemary wanted to know why you and Ben had a fight. And you didn't like lying to her. Now you consider that maybe you should have.

Because what if he was alive? Would she want to meet him? Would he care enough to want to meet her or Lou? I mean I can cut him out of my life, but if Rosemary wants to know him I shouldn't stand in her way...

You and Ben weren't exactly careful that night, but you weren't sure if he just never cared about that kind of thing before. You weren't sure if he actually wanted kids, the one time you'd asked him and he'd said it "maybe" sounded nice to have some kids. You didn't know if that was a good standard to hold him to or not, given that he was drunk when he said it.

Then again, Ben was always drunk.

"I know that you can't understand this, but even though I hate him, I can't leave him. If the roles were reversed, if it was me, Ben wouldn't leave me. Even with everything he said.” Your chest tightens. "And it hurts me to think that he's been there since 1984 with those people doing God knows what to him."

Rosie sighs. "Mom, I know that you love him, but maybe it's better this way. He’s out of you life. You’re doing better than you were. You said it yourself you felt trapped when you were a supe-“

"He might not even be there. I just need to know what happened. And that means I have to leave for a little bit and I’m not sure when I’ll be able to come back.”

"Wait what do you mean? You'd come back. You'd go over there, find out and then come back right?" She looks confused.

You press your lips together. "There's a possibility that if I do this, it will expose me, and I’ve already evaded Vought once. I’m not sure I can do it again.”

"So, what? You're gonna go over there and throw away everything for a guy that shit all over your heart and threw you away? Really? You're going to throw Lou and me away for him?" She's gesturing wildly with her hands now, eyes flashing around the room and again you're reminded of Ben.

"I'm not throwing you away-"

It breaks your heart that she'd think that you'd do that, that you were willing to sacrifice them so easily.

Am I doing that?

"You're throwing away the life that you've built for yourself. You told me that you were more happy now that you'd been in the past. And now as soon as you hear about him you go right back? Just like how he made you leave your family-"

"He didn’t make me leave my family, it was my choice! I’m not throwing away the life that I have made and I'm not throwing away you or Lou. If you or Lou were taken, you better believe that I would fight for you, I wouldn't leave you to fend for yourselves for any amount of time. You are my family. And yes Ben is an asshole and I've hated him for the past forty years, but I can't leave him."

"I can't believe you're doing this." She pinches the bridge of her nose frustrated.

"I believed after all these years that the reason why Ben died was because I wasn't there. And Countess confirmed it."

"But he's not dead!"

"Maybe. But they made us fight so that I wouldn't be there. They wanted us to fight because they knew they wouldn't be able to stop me if they turned on him-" You try to reason with her, but you know she won’t listen.

She's just so damn stubborn. Just like someone else I know.

"That doesn't matter! That doesn't make what he did or said any less okay." Rosie snaps, before her gaze softens. “It doesn’t change anything. They may have caused you guys to fight, but Ben said those things to you. They didn’t make him say that or do that. He chose to. And I can’t believe that you’re going to forgive him-“

"I don't have to forgive him and I don’t want to. It’s not about forgiveness. I can't leave him. He might be able to turn his back on me, but I can’t stand back and ignore him if he needs help. Believe me I wish I could. I wish that after everything that happened I could walk away, but I can't. And I know you don't understand that but-" You try to take a step towards her, but she steps back.

"That's not what I don't understand. What I don't understand is you playing with the possibility of losing this for him." She gestures around the apartment. "Do we really mean that little to you that you drop everything for someone that used you and treated you like you meant nothing?"

"You both mean everything to me. Trust me when I say that, but the fact that those two men showed up at my apartment and everything that happened with Countess means that I'm already involved. They already made this about me. I don't know why they needed to know about him, and I want to know why.”

“I can’t believe this.” She stalks past you into the kitchen to get down a bottle of tequila from the top shelf above the stainless steel refrigerator where she locks it away from Lou.

“Rosemary you’re so young-“

“Don’t make this about age. You’re older than me and you should know better.” She angrily pours a shot of tequila before knocking it back.

You try not think that the answer to all of your problems might lie in the bottom of that bottle. Sobriety definitely wasn’t getting any easier, not after you killed Countess or the revelation that Ben was possibly still alive. And especially not now in this fight.

“When you finally told me about him, it was the first time I’d ever seen you break.” Rosemary isn’t looking at you, she's looking down at the floor. “You’ve always been this strong independent figure in my life. You never needed anyone’s help to raise me. You’re so strong and formidable, but then you told me what he did to you and I’ve never seen you look so small.”

The memories of what happened between you and Ben surge up again, but you beat them away with a stick. The last thing you wanted right now was to relive that in the middle of this fight.

She looks up, locking eyes with yours. “I don’t know why you would do this to yourself again, put yourself through that-”

“Because I still love him.” You mutter. As soon as you say it, you know it’s true. Ben did terrible things, said horrible things, but deep down you still loved the boy you grew up with. And maybe that was the problem, you imagined the boy you grew up being tortured and left to rot, and the thought broke you. “And I don’t know how to stop. Even after everything he did, we spent so many years together and the memory of them doesn't just vanish. I won’t be able to live with myself knowing that I could have helped him and I didn’t.”

Rosemary stands there halfway in the kitchen and the living room, the bottle hanging from her right hand. This time she drinks right from the bottle before answering. “If you really need to do this, then I'm going with you."

"No."

"Why not? I'm as powerful as you-"

"It's not about being powerful, I don't want this life for you, I've never wanted this life for you. I've worked so hard to keep you out of it-"

"But-"

"No. This is why I introduce you as my cousin, why you were homeschooled, why Lou is homeschooled, why Lou doesn't call me grandma, why you don't call me mom around other people. If Vought finds out about you or Lou, it won't matter. None of this will matter.”

"You don't know that." She says it softly.

"I do." You take her hand. "Rosemary, you are one of the strongest supes I've ever met and you're second generation. And Lou, we don't even know what her powers are, but I can guarantee that as soon as Vought finds out they will come for you both. There's a reason why I never told them what my real power was. I kept you both far from this and I don't want them to know."

"I don't want you to do this alone. What happens if you get taken over there?"

"What if you come with me and we both get taken? What about Lou then? What would happen to her? I don't want her to grow up without a family. Please. Just let me do this. It’ll probably take 2-3 days tops.”

Rosemary doesn’t look happy. “I don’t care how long it’s going to take. The only thing I care about is losing you.”

“They’re not going to take me-“

“Not just then.” She sighs. “I mean after. If you do have to cut and run-.” Rosemary shifts her eyes towards the hallway where Lou is asleep in her room before bringing them back to you. “I don’t care how complicated it is, we will go with you.”

“I won’t ask you to do that-“

“It’s what family does. It’s a sacrifice that I’m willing to make. I can always get another job, Lou can be homeschooled anywhere, and I don’t want Lou to live in a world where you’re not here. She needs her grandmother.”

Her words make tears prick in your eyes as you watch her determined stance. Rosemary and Lou were the only family you had left, the only two people that you cared about in the whole world. And maybe she was right, maybe you were throwing it all away for Ben. You hated yourself for wanting to help him, but you knew if the roles were reversed Ben would have come for you.

Well, the old Ben would have come to get me, maybe not Soldier Boy.

"You got another glass?" You ask with a sigh, looking at the bottle in her hand.

"You sure?" Rosemary raises an eyebrow.

"I'm gonna need it to get through the next few days. There's no way I can do any of this shit sober." You mutter following her into the kitchen.

Ten minutes later, you're both sitting at her kitchen table with a bottle of whiskey and a fresh bottle of tequila between you. The haze of alcohol is making you feel infinitely better given the past few days you've had.

The whiskey burns pleasantly as you take a drink from the bright green sippy cup in your hand. Rosemary hadn’t washed dishes so this was the best she had. You knew you probably looked ridiculous.

Rosemary eyes you. "I can't believe you're drinking."

"I really needed this." You snort. "Given the past few days I've had-"

"I also can't believe you killed her."

"She wasn't a good person." You frown remembering what Countess said to you. "Plus I never liked her even before everything that happened. I know that's not a god enough reason to kill someone, but I can't change that now." You run your fingers through your hair to push it back from your face, trying to lose yourself in the buzz, but Ben keeps flashing through your mind.

Damn it, he's invaded by subconscious again.

Another few minutes pass as Rosemary sits there taking a sip from the bottle in front of her. “Do you really miss him that much?”

You pause considering the question. “Yes and no. I miss the person he used to be, before all of this. I think that’s the problem. I’m holding on to the person I grew up with. That’s all I keep thinking. That boy I knew being tortured in that lab.”

“It’s why you stayed on Payback for so long?”

“Yeah.” You take another drag of whiskey frowning at the sippy cup. “Sometimes I’d get glimpses, shapes really and it would make me forget who he was as Soldier Boy and then when I woke up the next day, Soldier Boy was back and Ben was gone.”

There were always quiet moments when it was just the two of you, when you forgot who he became and all you saw was the boy you used to know. When the cameras weren't rolling, the team was gone, and Ben was crashing at your apartment, for some unknown reason. He would do that, continue to show up at your apartment like he had when you were kids. It never made sense to you, especially because he only slept in your room growing up to escape his father. You couldn't think of a reason why he slept at your apartment when you were adults.

Probably just didn't want to be alone.

“That’s why you slept with him?”

“Yes. That night all I saw was the old Ben. And then I woke up with Soldier Boy.” You bite the inside of your cheek as the memory of the morning that followed washes over your mind. You never understood why he ran to Countess, never understood how he could push you away after all the years you spent together. Why he lied and said that he didn't care, because he had to. After everything you’d been through Ben had to care. You remember what Countess said to you and your shoulders sink under the weight.

Or maybe he was just a better liar than I thought.

“Do you regret sleeping with him?”

You look up at your daughter. She really does look like Ben. She was strong, determined, stubborn, and the way she held herself was so confident. And even though she would have been one of the strongest supes she chose to be a nurse, chose to devote her life to helping people instead of the shock and awe of the superhero world. You were so proud of her. You wondered if Ben would be too.

“No.”

“Why? You say that you loved who he was and then he-"

“Because he gave me you. I wouldn’t change a thing. You and Lou are the only thing that matter to me. I know you hate it when I say this, but you’re so young, you have no idea what it’s like to live as long as I have without changing. And whenever it was just me and Soldier Boy I was so alone until Ben came back. I don’t think I would have lasted these years without you Rosemary, think I would have given in to Vought or maybe gone to the government-“

“Are you serious?” Her eyebrows pull together as a worried frown graces her lips. She knew what you were saying.

“Yeah. But I am happy. Happy for the first time in a long time. The problem now is dealing with everything over there.”

“How about I come with you and wait in a hotel-" Rosemary tries again.

“No. It has to be me. I have to go.”

She sighs. “I just hate the idea that you’re not going to come back.”

“I’m going to come back." You smile. "If you can remember I'm a supe too-"

“If they’ve been able to hold him all these years, that means they could take you too.”

“Don’t know if I should be scared or impressed.” You snort into the cup.

“It not funny.”

“Fine, if I’m not back in a week, then I give you permission to come. But I don’t think you’ll need to.”

"You're old and decrepit. Probably will need my help-"

"Low blow."

She smiles faintly.

You roll the glass in your hand for a moment, watching the amber liquid swirl against the green sides. "If he is alive, would you want to meet him?"

Rosemary takes a long pull of tequila, but doesn't answer for a long time. "When I was a kid, sometimes I'd imagine that he was still alive-"

"What?" You looked at her genuinely shocked. You hadn't realized that she ever thought about Ben.

"That he would walk up our long driveway at our house in Maine and we'd be a family. That was before you told me about that night." She runs one of her fingers down the label of the bottle frowning. "I don't know. After what he did to you, I don't know. Plus I’m almost forty years old, don’t really think I need a father now.”

This time you reach for the bottle of Whiskey, not bothering with the empty sippy cup. "Maybe I shouldn't have told you what he did. Should have let you fantasize about him, see the good-"

"I'm glad you did." She squeezes your hand. “And you didn't just show me the bad, you told me about the good times too."

"Maybe too much bad."

"I don't hate him. I'm mad at him for what he did to you, but I don't hate him."

"So it's a maybe?"

"I guess. I say that now, but I think my reaction if I do ever meet him will probably be the complete opposite. I’m also not sure if he should be around Lou.”

“Ben wouldn’t hurt her.” You press your lips together. "I don't think he would."

“Maybe not intentionally.”

"He's not a bad guy, well-" You take a sip from the bottle, remembering the fight. “He’s just complicated. I guess.”

And I'm still making excuses for him.

“Sounds like you’re going to forgive him.” Rosemary is frowning at you.

For someone who wants to maybe meet him, she’s acting like she still doesn’t want me to forgive him.

“Trust me, our story is over, finally. I’m just going to bust him out of wherever the hell he is and then I’ll never have to see him ever again.” You remember what you yelled at one another the night of the premiere and it strengthens your resolve. You didn't want to forgive him, you just wanted to get him the hell out of Russia and maybe slap him around a bit and then go home and finally move on with your life. Because you were slowly realizing you never did, you just packed it all away deep down and pretended to move on. "This isn't about forgiveness, it's so I can live with myself."

"I just don't think you should forgive him so easily."

"I don't want to and I'm not going to. He doesn't deserve that." You mutter that last part into the bottle, because it was true. Ben didn't deserve your forgiveness, hell, he didn't deserve you risking your life to find him, but you had to. His death left such a big hole in your life and you beat yourself up about it for years, you not being there for him when he needed you the most. But now, going to Russia, getting him back, meant that you could finally move on, that you could close the hole and finally be at peace.

Rosemary leans back in her chair with a sigh. “Promise me, you're going to come back."

"I promise. Not even Homelander can stop me." You smile at her. “Now I just got to figure out where Ben is.”

Easy. Yeah right.

***************************************************

Thank you so much for reading! If you'd like to be added to the taglist for this series let me know :)

Taglist: @roseblue373 @anundyingfidelity @cheynovak @cassiecasluciluce @muhahaha303 @deans-spinster-witch @kayleighmeister @demodemo909 @fruitfacess @bobbobbobinogs @bughill126, @simplyfixated @sleepjam, @tiredstrangerr @freefallthoughts,@onlyangel-444 @lov3vivian @mxltifxnd0m @mayafatimakhan

#soldier boy x you #jensen ackles soldier boy #soldier boy #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy fanfiction #soldier boy x y/n #soldier boy/ben #the boys amazon #the boys fanfic #jensen ackles #jackles #the boys #the boys season 3 #the boys series #the boys tv #soldier boy fic #the boys s3

97 notes · View notes

elllisaaa · 7 days

Note

sweetie your last post for subby enha hasn’t left me yet… it was truly that powerful 😔

now i’m thinking about bf!heeseung who gets jealous while you’re out clubbing and catches another man eye fucking you. you find it silly that after all this time being together he still gets jealous and start teasing him. he embraces you pouting and mumbling about how no one has the right to watch you like that while simultaneously growing a boner from the way you laugh at his attitude… he turns into a bit of a loser but he’s not ashamed of it. ofc the night continues at home with you overstimulating him <3

no but subby enha truly has some kind of superpower on me i swear, especially jake and heeseung for some reasons… and oh my lord i fucking love how your brain works, this is so yummy !

BF!HEESEUNG who's so down bad for you, he literally worships the ground you're walking on and considers himself lucky you're even willing to look his way, so do not getting him started on how grateful he is to be your boyfriend. he's not ashamed of how much he's obsessed with you.

but even with this fact in mind, he still lets you do everything you want when you two are going out, heeseung is just happy to be there and to watch his gorgeous girl have fun with her friends. he's even handing you his card to pay for your drinks. however, he doesn't like how one man in particular has been eyeing you up and down since the two of you got there, he doesn't like the way this guy thinks he can get you.

"why are you so moody, baby ? do you want to go home ? are you not feeling well ?" you ask to your boyfriend anxiously, and heeseung feels quite dumb to worry you over such silly things, but he couldn't help the feeling of jealousy taking over him every time the guy gave you fuck me eyes. "no, no, i'm okay. there is just… this guy over there, he's been watching since we got there and i don't like it."

the pout on heeseung's face became even more obvious when you turned around to get a glance of the man. when you gave your attention back to your boyfriend, he was mumbling under his breath like he did everytime he was frustrated. "haven't i made it clear that you're mine ? why does he keep undressing you with his gaze in front of me ? i really don't like it when someone other than me is checking you out." while he's rambling, his hands gradually make their way to your waist, bringing you flush against his body and you cannot help but giggle at his behaviour.

"don't laugh at me baby !" he's a bit offended by the way you're not taking the situation seriously, but at the same time, the smirk spreading on your lips when you bring him closer to your face by grabbing his jaw is turning him on. "i'm sorry hee, it's just funny to see you get all jealous about losers like that when you know damn well that you're mine, right ?" your tone is a bit condescending, and the way you're looking at his lips has him growing a boner on the spot. heeseung is only able to nod and bed you to go home because the only thing he wants right now is you on top of him, playing with his body.

"you're so fucking pathetic hee, you're so fucking lucky i'm even touching you right now, don't you think ?" - "y-yes, yes thank you, i love it, it's so good !" you coo at him once more, loving how pliant he becomes in your hold after two orgasms and how sensitive he gets, squirming in your hold when you run your nails on the skin of his chest.

"y/n… please, i wanna cum…" - "hm, again ? dirty boy, you're so fucking greedy." heeseung let out a moan at your degrading words, and you loved how he wasn't shy to show how much he liked the way you were treating him. and you loved to have him like this - holding his wrists down while you were riding him - when he could also totally blow your back and split you in half if he wanted to. you leaned in to reach his jaw, kissing it sloppily until you could murmur in his ear "you can cum inside baby, but i'm not even close yet. so you know what that means ?" - "y-yeah…" - "such a good boy, gonna fill me up two times."

and heeseung couldn't deny you (or himself) this sweet pleasure.

#my love for subby heeseung has reached some new highs thanks to you #eli answering your questions #eli's moots #dinna's asks #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen hard hours #enha hard thoughts #heeseung hard thoughts #heeseung hard hours #heeseung smut #heeseung x reader

68 notes · View notes

igotanidea · 1 year

Text

Secrets: batfamily x ScarlettWitch!reader

The graphic is not mine, found it on pinterest.

Story requested by @p4inis - I know it's been ages, sorry! : Jason x scarlet witch fem reader? She’s best friend w dick and she secretly works with Batman then the boys found out when she entered the bat cave and tried to pick a fight with Batman ?

***

„BRUCE!” the very angry voice echoed through the stone walls of the batcave and very angry girl came to the view “What the hell?!”

“Y/N?” Jason stood up from his chair, shock on his face “What are you doing here?”

“And more importantly, how did you get here?” Dick was equally as surprised as his brother.

“Can someone explain to me, who is this girl?” Damian frowned.

Let me stop the story right here and give you a bit of context.

Y/N Y/L/N, born and raised in Gotham were best friend with Dick Grayson from the day he arrived at the city. Poor boy, who just lost his parents were just wondering around the street, all by himself, moody and clearly looking for trouble. Y/N was getting back from school when she encountered him, brooding in one of the alleys, absentmindedly kicking a trash can while muttering something to himself. In any other circumstances, she would just walk past him, but something inside her told her to stop and she listened to that little voice, taking her time in observing the boy with her eyes slightly narrowed and head tilted.

“Too much on your mind?” she finally asked after a while of hesitation

“Yes.” He muttered not even looking up at her

“Need a pair of ears to listen to your sad story?”

“Why do you care?” Dick’s eyes landed on her face “you don’t know me.”

“I don’t. But I can tell you are in need of a friend. I’m Y/N.” she took a few steps forward and extended her hand

“Dick.” The boy shook it hesitantly

“Really?” she smiled lightly at the name he gave her

“Yes.” His tone became harsher.

“Ok, all right, no hard feelings there, Dick.” Y/N raised her hands in defense “wait, you’re the Wayne’s kid.”

“How do you know?”

“I….. I don’t know….. I just sort of sensed that.”

“Sensed? Is there anyone normal in this city?” Dick rolled his eyes

“Hey! Careful there, boy! I might take offence.”

“Sorry. I’m not really used to people dressed like clowns and bats running around the streets and citizens to have superpowers.”

“ What can I say? Welcome to Gotham, Dick.”

And that was how their friendship started and lasted for years. However, there was one thing Y/N never told Dick. She did have powers. Maybe not at the time when they met, but when she was somewhere around 18 they started to show. Out of nowhere, she could hear people’s thoughts, the objects around her started to move and when she was nervous or scared the air around her was literally turning red. Oh, and sometimes, people around her saw the things she wanted them to – some sort of illusions. That was when her mother told her that she was holding the power of a Scarlett Witch and poor girl did not like it at all. In the city of freaks and criminals she always prided herself on being normal, ordinary, usual. She never wanted any skills. To be honest, she got scared and due to her conflicted emotions her powers started causing troubles. The only option was to leave Gotham for a while and learn how to get it under control. Her mother, a witch herself, contacted some old friends and Y/N was sent to train with the old order of sorceresses.

She got back after a whole year, finding Gotham in worse condition than ever. From what she learned in a quick time, there was a new vigilante, calling himself the Red Hood running around and causing havoc. One time, when she focused, she got into his mind, feeling all the rage and pain and fear and regret. She saw his story of how he was killed by Joker and brought back to life. All the conflict he had with Batman, because apparently they were a family once, and at some point in life he was his sidekick, Robin. She broke this mind connection before finding out the real identities of anyone. That was private and she never wanted to know. Second thing was Dick. Their contact during the last year was a bit limited, since while her training she was not exactly allowed to use phone and internet so they rarely talked and when she returned, the girl found out that Dick left Gotham and resided in Bludhaven. Third thing was Batman’s newest sidekick, apparently calling himself Red Robin, who was on her tail, treating her like some sort of threat. After a month of playing cat and mouse with him, she got inside his head and practically commanded him to meet her so they could talk without acting like kids.

“What do you want with me?” they were standing in front of each other on the rooftop surrounded by Gotham’s darkness.

“The question is, why is someone like you just sitting around doing nothing?” he retorted

“I’m sorry. Someone like me?” she scoffed “who do you think I am?”

“Please. You’re not so hard to crack.” Y/N raised an eyebrow at him waiting for some more explanation “you are Scarlett Witch. You have so many crazy level skills, so why are you passive if you could do so much good for this city?”

“You remind me of someone from my past, you know. Someone who practically called me a freak the first day we met.”

“I never said you were a freak.”

“No. No you did not. And I am not. At least, not anymore that I learned how to control my abilities I never asked for. ….“ she hesitated “Now. I am not going to go inside your head, but I strongly suggest you to tell me the truth why you were on my tail, lately.”

Red Robin sighed deeply considering what words to choose to reveal to her the real reason behind his action. Clearly this girl couldn’t be deceived with half-truth.

“It’s Batman.”

“Batman? What does your boss have to do with it?”

“He’s not my boss. But he wants to be yours.”

“I’m not planning on becoming a sidekick of his.” She scoffed “If anything I work alone.”

“ Just listen to me, all right? Let me convince you.”

“You entertain me, Red Robin. You know, I was fairly familiar with your predecessors. The original Robin tried to save my ass from the assaulters once, the second bumped into me while chasing the robbers. They both seemed …. too enthusiastic and energetic. It can cause trouble at times. You seem more …. rational. Wiser. And I appreciate that, so I’ll listen to you. Tell me then, what can Batman possibly offer me to join him in his work?”

He convinced her, talking about the people and doing good work and being trained by the Batman himself. He offered her wide range of freedom, so she wouldn’t have to be a sidekick. He talked and talked about how the joint efforts can bring good effect. He might have also slipped something about admiring her and the things she can do and how he himself would like the opportunity to work with her. And she agreed, keeping her alliance with Red Robin and Batman a secret.

After making such important choice, she realized it would be nice to get back in touch with Dick so she simply called him and they rebuilt their friendship. They even went far enough to reveal their other identities to each other.

“Wait, you were the original Robin?!” her eyes went wide upon hearing the news “you were the one who tried to save me during that assault?! Damn it, Dick.”

“You never really needed my help.” He shrugged “now I know why. Scarlett Witch, huh? Makes sense. What exactly can you do apart from getting inside people’s heads?”

However, she never told him she was secretly working with his foster father.

Not when during one of the mission she found out that Red Hood real identity was Jason Todd and he was in fact Bruce’s son and Dick’s brother.

Not when she fell in love with such brother.

Not when she started working with the latest Robin aka Damian.

Not when one time Dick asked her to join him on the mission.

Not when he suggested she could be a part of bat team, even if the team already consisted of too many people who tended to fight with one another (mostly Dick and Jason).

She kept in the dark and it was getting harder to control who knew what about her. Dick and Jason were aware of her real name and her alias, but not that she was occasional Batman’s partner. Damian knew only the Scarlett Witch and working with Batman part and Tim knew everything, of course while Cass, Steph and Babs knew her only as Y/N, their civilian friend. It was crazy.

Until the day when Bruce broke his promise of giving her mission freedom and she got really angry. Despite their agreement, Batman interfered in Scarlett Witch’s contacts on the drug trafficking causing the informants to fled from the city and her operation went south.

“Get out of my way!” she yelled when both Dick and Jason blocked her way demanding some explanation.

“Y/N. why don’t you just calm down a little, all right?” Dick started, trying his best not to worsen the situation. After all she was the freaking Scarlett Witch. She could have them on the ground wincing in pain within seconds. It was better not to mess with her

“Yeah, I will calm down right after the freaking Batman keep his promises!” she yelled

“Wait, what? What promises? I don’t get it…..” Damian frowned again “Father, who is this girl?”

“Leave us.” Bruce spoke calmly

“What is going on here?” Tim emerged from the door and as his eyes landed on Y/N he understood everything “Oh, shit…..”

“Can someone tell me…..?”

“Shut up Damian!” Jason, Dick and Y/N yelled in unison

“I said: leave us.” Bruce repeated in his most stern tone, yet no one paid attention to him anymore

“I don’t understand half of what’s happening but I’m not leaving” Jason laughed “If my girl goes full Scarlett Witch on Bruce I’d love to see it.” He moved towards Y/N and kissed her cheek making her blush a bit. “Don’t hold back, babe. I like that wild side of yours.” He smirked

“Stop it, Jace!” she tried to rid herself of him

“Wait. SHES THE SCARLETT WITCH!?” Damian exclaimed “but she looks so….. ordinary.”

“WATCH YOUR TONGUE, DEMON!”

“Before someone get hurt….” Dick started blocking Jason and Damian from killing each other

“LET ME GO DICKHEAD! HE JUST OFFENDED MY GIRLFRIEND!”

“ I JUST STATED THE OBVIOUS! SHE LOOKS NORMAL!”

“THAT IS A STEP UP FROM HOW YOU LOOK!”

“Do you work with Bruce Y/n? I mean, Batman? Why didn’t you tell me?” Dick’s finally caught up on the situation and glanced at his best friend with hurt expression.

“You have always been a bad detective, Dick. Of course she works with Batman. I was the one who offered her this position.” Tim smirked

“YOU DID WHAT?!”

“It was my idea…..”

“YOU GOT HER INVOLVED IN THIS SHIT!?”

Now, everyone was fighting everyone and it was hard to tell when all of this started. Y/N and Bruce were just standing in the middle of the havoc, eyes switching between all of the boys with despair and embarrassment (Bruce) and disbelief and amusement (Y/N).

“You know, Bruce, I came here to confront you about interfering with my operation, but I don’t think I am angry anymore.”

“I can see. However, I wanted to tell you, that I got you the information you needed to finish it.”

“Really, you did? How?” she turned slightly from the scene in front of her and looked straight at Bruce

“A bit of intimidation and mention of powerful woman coming after anyone who refused to cooperate.”

“A powerful woman, huh?”

“Catwoman, of course.”

“Of course” she nodded “Thank you, Bruce. Business with you is …. tolerable, I guess.”

“But we’re not partners.” He muttered

“Obviously” she smirked “never were, never will be.” They were both liars.

“Do you think we should stop the boys from killing each other?” Bruce wondered

“Do you think we can?”

“Well, you are the Witch here. As much as I hate magic, can’t you do something?”

“Did you see them?” Y/N pointed towards the four unhinged figures yelling at each other “that’s beyond my level of expertise.”

“So…. we just leave?”

“Yes. Yes, we just…. leave. They will sort it out by themselves, right?”

“And it’s not because we are terrified of what they can do…..” Bruce muttered retreating backwards

“Absolutely not….. We just should discuss the case.”

“Yes. We should discuss the case.”

“Cause it’s really important.”

“Vital.”

“And it definitely can’t wait.”

“Shall we then?” Bruce pointed toward the exit and without any further ado they both disappeared from the cave leaving boys to deal with their banter themselves.

994 notes · View notes

specialagentlokitty · 2 months

Text

Carol Danvers x reader - you exist

For the 2024 prompt list, would you write a Carol Danvers x best friend imagine where they struggle with depression? Prompt is: “ “You exist, and that in itself is beautiful.”” - Anon💜

13: “You exist, and that in itself is beautiful.”

Everybody thinks being a superhero is the best thing in the world, to have superpowers and save people over and over again.

But it wasn’t like that.

The truth was it was lonely, everybody saw you for your powers or your hero name, but for the person that you actually were.

Maybe that’s why you had relieved yourself from your hero duties, deciding you were going to leave the avengers and take yourself away to live on your own.

Your powers meant you could survive extreme cold climates, and that’s what you decided to do, buying a small cabin in the middle of Alaska, leaving just nothing but you and nature for miles in all directions.

Sitting on your porch, you sipped the coffee in your travel mug, using your flames to heat it up a little in order to stop it from freezing over.

Sighing to yourself, you watched as a few deer jumped across the snow, and you looked to where they what they were running from.

You were expecting to maybe see a bear, or wolves, but you weren’t expecting to see the bright suit of your friend coming closer, offering you a wave.

You waved back slightly, and moved your feet from the stairs to stand up, opening the door so she could run inside.

Carol jumped up and down a little, breathing out mist with how cold it was.

“Couldn’t have picked a warmer place to retire?” She chuckled.

You shrugged a little, holding the travel mug out to her and she took it to take a sip of the hot coffee while you went to make another cup.

“I was shocked when Fury told me you left SHIELD.” She said.

You turned around, glancing at her before you went back to making your coffee.

“Decided I wanted a quiet life.”

Carol hummed a little bit, walking over to you, leaning against the counter.

She crossed her arms, watching you carefully.

“Why did you really leave?”

“Like I said, I wanted a quieter life.”

Carol frowned heavily, and she placed a hand on your shoulder, gaining your attention, giving you a worried look.

You sighed heavily, grabbing another travel mug and poured your coffee in it, handing it her so you could go find a coat for her to wear.

Once you got one, you handed it to her and took the mugs so she could put it on before handing her mug back, taking her outside.

“I’m tired of the hero life.”

“You are?”

You nodded your head.

“I have been for a while now, maybe some people like Stark enjoy it, but I don’t. I couldn’t even go to the shop down the street without being stopped, people don’t even know my name Carol.”

“I thought you enjoyed helping people?”

You shook your head, kicking up some snow with your boots.

“I did, at first. But all people care about is the superhero personality, not the person behind it. It’s like I don’t even exist, there is no (Y/N), just the crappy hero name they gave me, and what they want to see. I’m not a fucking show monkey.”

Carol sighed a little bit.

“(Y/N) you aren’t a show monkey.”

“Yeah? Tell that to everybody at shield. Nobody knows anything about me, not even the avengers. Just the hero persona.”

You stopped walking, and Carol stopped in front of you.

“You always wanted to do something with your powers ever since we were kids…” she whispered.

“Yeah, now I wish I didn’t have them. They’re nothing but a burden and draws attention to me.”

She gave you a sad smile.

“Sometimes I think it would be better if I just disappeared, so I did…”

“No, no it would never be better if you did.”

“Come on Carol, what is there out there for somebody like me? Prison if I don’t comply with the stupid accords? Fighting people nobody else knows about and dying? What’s that worth? If I die at least I’ll die out here alone, like I’m supposed to be.”

Carol shook her head.

“You’re my best friend, you’re always going to be my best friend.”

You scoffed, walking past her.

“Yeah, because it really feels like that. You left me behind when you went to go to space, you don’t give a shit if I existed or not either. Your life wouldn’t even be any different.”

“(Y/N)!”

Carol jogged over you, standing in front of you.

“I’m sorry I left you behind…”

You stared at her.

“I should’ve brought you with me… I know… but I thought maybe staying here would be the best thing for you…”

“I feel like a ghost Carol… as if I’m not really even here…”

Carol reached out, pulling you in for a hug and she held you tightly, and you balled your hands into the fabric of her coat.

“You exist, and that in itself is beautiful.” She whispered.

“It doesn’t feel like it…”

“It really is, because without you the world just wouldn’t be the same place (Y/N)…”

#marvel #marvel x reader #marvel x you #marvel x y/n #marvel imagine #Carol Danvers #carol danvers x reader #carol danvers x you #carol danvers x y/n #Carol Danvers imagine

81 notes · View notes

bagopucks · 1 year

Text

J. Hughes - Sally Forth [Peter McPoland]

✄————————————

Jack Hughes x Fem!dancer!reader

Requested✨

Word count: 3.7k

Warning(s): None

I didn’t state ‘Dance Moms’ specifically, but I also didn’t specify any studio or tv show for that matter. So it’s up for interpretation! The title is also the song I had in mind for the reader’s performance, but that is also up for each person’s creative interpretation.

—————————————

“Be ready ladies! I’m serious!” The shrill voice of our dance instructor had myself and the other girls tensing in our seats. This had to be perfect. I had to be perfect.

What the internet says is no lie, reality tv is not for children. I know that, but I have never once regretted experiencing all seven seasons of this show, and now finishing eight. The tv aspect is not what worries me. It’s Nationals. I got the soloist spot in my studio. Some girls cheered me on, others did not. I learned who were my real friends and who weren’t over the years. It was the same with the moms. I’ve always had trouble with them. Any adult in your life can be someone you look to for guidance. In this case, I did not enjoy the company or guidance of any mother on the show. The moms were always building someone up and tearing someone down. Often one was done to accomplish the other. Nobody could ever be equal.

Our director, competition, the end of a season. These were all relative constants in my life from a young age. They caused distress and pride. Self esteem issues, and self discovery.

I was never soft. In this industry I learned that a person simply won’t survive if they are too sensitive. But I had a superpower. Mama Hughes always reminded me of that. I was raised across the street from three rambunctious boys. They gave me hell every day of my life. I had a rough exterior and interior because I grew up getting pushed around, hit in the eyes with foam hockey balls, and shoving any brother out of the way when I heard Ellen shout that lunch was ready. Underneath the chaos, it had always been more than that. I would spend hours working on puzzles with Quinn, and watching movies we weren’t supposed to with Jack. A lot of the bonding I did with Luke was more so teasing and ganging up on him with his brothers, but I did offer school advice when he came to me for it. I slept over with those boys for many years, all wrapped up in comforters sprawled out across the floor. I spent many holidays with them as well. Even Hanukkah.

It was not only my grit and rough exterior that kept me afloat, but my good heart and soul that helped me not get lost in the fame and fortune. Ellen often told me that. But when her words didn’t work, I went to Jack.

He was the only person right now I could consistently think of. My mother and Ellen were here. The dads were in charge of the boys. I didn’t know why. How many adults did it take to control the Hughes boys? I could do it grabbing one by the ear, pinching another’s side, and promising the third a cookie.

I’d have a large support group, but Jack was the one I was worried about messing up in front of. People used to make jokes about us being so close, saying that one day we might get married. We used to gag at each other and shoot off empty insults about the opposite sex until we thought we made our points loud and clear.

Jack stopped that childish antic before me.

I stopped it shortly after.

then we ended up together.

“Alright, your costume’s in the bathroom, let me see your makeup.” I turned in my chair to look up at Ellen. My mother had never been particularly great at cosmetics, but Ellen promised she’d be there to make me pop. “You look beautiful.”

I did some of it on my own, but our instructor was tense about young teens doing their own makeup, so Ellen helped with the eyeliner and maskera.

“Go get into your costume while I clean up.” My mom piped up, and I smiled at her before practically sprinting to the bathroom down the hall. My costume was my favorite one by far. A dark green corset top, where one of the straps was covered in pale pastel colored flowers. Connected to it was a cream colored chiffon skirt, the same pastel floral arrangement sewn in strategically to make the buds look like they grew in a curved diagonal up the side. The skirt flowed nicely with my movements when I practiced in it, and the flowers accentuated every twist and turn. I gave myself a once over in the bathroom mirror before the nerves finally dawned on me. The tingly feeling followed me all the way back into the dressing room, my nails digging into my palms. Jack used to hold my hands in school under the desks when I did that. Now I didn’t have Jack with me.

“Oh baby!” My mom gasped, heads of other girls turning in the process. “You look so perfect.” My mom reached her arms out, and I did my best to attempt a side hug.

“Please don’t crush the flowers mom,” I spoke, alarming her and causing her to pull back.

“You look absolutely beautiful, sweetheart.” One of the mothers chimed in with what I might dare to call a genuine smile. “Now you just have to dance as perfect as you look.” There it was.

I quickly turned back to Ellen and my mother, my brows furrowed in a silent type of fear I didn’t know how to articulate. After so many years of dance, I still couldn’t voice my nerves properly when I needed to. No doubt because the other girls got torn down for it in the studio.

“You’re going to be so good baby. Come here,” my mom sat down in the chair I previously used in front of my vanity. I walked over and placed my hands in her own.

“You’re gonna do so good. What matters is that you were good enough to make it this far. This right here, is already impressive enough for everybody in this family. Your father and I will never stop bragging about you to everybody we know. Win or lose.” She smiled, and I could see tears forming in her eyes. My own mother made me want to cry on my performance day. “Ellen-“ she sniffed. “Pep talk- I’m gonna cry.”

I turned back to the woman I’d known since the age of seven. She smiled at me, I saw her boys in her. Most of all, I saw so much of Jack in her.

“Motivational pep talk. Ready?” I nodded. “You’re gonna get out there, and show those kids who’s boss. Because in the Hughes house, what do we believe in?”

“Checks, goals, and five holes?” I saw Ellen’s face contort into confusion. She’d have to ask which brother taught me that later.

“No… but close. Hard work takes you far. And dedication. And kid, as cheesy as it is, as long as you have fun, that’s all it takes to be happy with your results.” Ellen’s words made me nod. I drew in a slow breath. “But if you have to check a girl off stage, I won’t hold it against you.” I broke out into a quiet fit of laughter before our moment was interrupted by our instructor informing everybody to step out into the hall. We all did, some girls huddled together while I stood between Ellen and my mom. Ever since I got this solo, I’ve felt alienated. Quinn said they were just jealous. But as a teenager, all you want is to be accepted in a place you feel you belong.

“Ellen!” Jim rounded the corner in a beige suit, looking breathless. “Ellen, you’ve gotta come help me. There’s twenty of them, and they won’t sit in their seats. Luke keeps eating all the skittles- Jack won’t keep his tie on.. and Quinn-“ he looked exasperated, as if Quinn had been the worst of all. Then he paused. “Quinn’s actually fine.. but they’re impossible to handle.” Ellen laughed at her husband’s hardship before turning to give me a quick shoulder squeeze.

“We all believe in you.” She gave me a nod, and I returned it before she walked to her husband.

“Break someone’s leg, eh?” Jimmy’s words earned concerned looks from some of the mothers before the Hughes parents left. Leaving me to wait with my mother.

As the competition started, group by group, one by one, girls went on the stage, and came off. Some beamed with pride, others cried, others looked completely relieved.

“Mom I need to text Jack.” I turned to look at her, distressed. My throat was dry, and I felt like I could barely stand on my own two legs.

“Your phone’s in the dressing room, hun.”

“Please,” I begged. She pursed her lips before retrieving her own phone from her pocket, texting Ellen and telling the blonde woman her middle child was needed.

——————

Out in the auditorium, Ellen’s phone was being passed from boy to boy, until it reached the Hughes brothers on the opposite end of the isle.

Ellie H… Sup?

Jack. I’m really nervous.

Ellie H… No reason. You’ll be fine. You did this in the living room for me like 80 times.

Yeah. But did you point out every little thing that was wrong?

Ellie H… Don’t question yourself. Just go out there, do your dance, celly a little, and lay back for the rest of the night.

Celly a little? I can’t do that on stage.. they’ll take off points.

Ellie H… I don’t know how this thing works. Mom says you look beautiful. I can’t wait to see you :)

Don’t make my nerves worse. But.. yeah I’m excited to see you too. Your dad said you wouldn’t keep your tie on?

Ellie H… Oh it’s on. Mom yelled at me.

Can’t say I’m surprised. I bet you look handsome.

Ellie H… I do. And you’re gonna be fire. 💃

Ellie H… mom says I have to put this away. It’s disrespectful or something. I’ll

———Point of View Switch———

“Jack Rowden!” I could hear my mom trying to shout through whispers, turning my head to look at her as she leaned forward to see me through a row full of guys my age. My team. They were all trying their best not to snicker while the next age group was introduced. I looked back down at the phone to finish my text before Quinn snatched the phone from my hand, bumping the send button in the process.

“Dude!”

“Mom said stop.”

“She needed me.”

“She needed me!” My head whipped to Luke, seated on my other side.

“Shut up Luke. You can’t even get a girlfriend.” Quinn backhanded my stomach- but our fight ceased at the sound of our best friend’s name. My girlfriend’s name.

I couldn’t see her in the dim lights, but I knew her figure when she walked out on stage. I saw the way her skirt flowed behind her as well. She always walked so fast. Like a woman on a mission. When she was little, I used to watch her from across the yard with a box of chalk. She’d step right out the front door and march over to her driveway like she planned on making the most elaborate chalk art known to man. One day I got the courage to actually cross the street to see her. She didn’t like sharing her chalk at first… but that was probably because I used to press so hard I’d break it. She had to show me how to use it right. Always so gentle and elegant with everything.

“She’s set. That’s what they call it in dance when a performer-“

“Quinn, shut up.” I scolded my brother, leaning forward in my seat as my hands gripped my knees.

There was a solid moment where I swear nobody breathed, but it was just me holding the air in my lungs. My girlfriend stopped moving. She was set. She liked to tell me it was a dancer’s face off.

The lights came up in bright pale colors, and the song began. I gripped my knees tighter than ever. Was this what she felt like when she watched my hockey games?

“Oh my god,” Quinn would describe my tone as enamored. I didn’t even know what that word meant. As she moved around the stage, she was breathtaking. I held my breath and gasped with every jump, turn, leap, and roll. She was good. Better than I was at hockey. And even though I’d seen this routine a million times before, it felt like the first time when she was on stage.

“Quinn! Quinny, give me the phone.” I took it from him turning on the camera and holding it up before Luke reached out. “Stop!” I hissed.

“Let me do it so you can watch her,” my younger brother offered, and that’s when I handed the phone over.

I always thought my girlfriend was brilliant every day. Every time I held her, cuddled up on the couch with her. Every time we played board games or watched movies, or studied together. I always thought she was incredible, but I never got to see her really dance. Hockey always got in the way of recitals, and my mom was always worried that me coming around too much might get me roped up into a camera shot. She supported my lovely girl on stage, but I could understand why she didn’t want me or my brothers on tv. Different lives called for different people.

My eyes were trained on her the whole time she floated across the stage. She had grace and emotion in her movements. I could feel the love for what she did, and I swear I could see it in her body language.

“Dude,” Quinn broke the silence. Silence that shouldn’t have been broken, but we didn’t have a clue. Nor did we think it too disrespectful.

“I know.” I answered, my words drawl out as I slowly leaned back, a smile forming on my lips.

“You have to marry her.” Quinn’s eyes flickered from myself back to the stage, resting his hands on the armrests of his chair.

“Can’t if she marries dance first.”

“This is the one time I would ever encourage an affair.”

The woman in front of us turned around to glare, Quinn and I fell silent. Luke was busy giggling at the fact that the audio of whatever video he got, it was going to be good.

———Point Of View Switch———

When the music came to a close, I found myself smiling as bright as the sun. I gave a graceful bow before lifting my head to see an entire isle full of people springing upright. My eyes travelled the expanse of boys to find three brothers near the end in matching navy blue suits. My smile widened. I wanted to scream.

When I was allowed to leave the stage, I did. The second I was concealed by curtains, I went sprinting to hug my mother. Now we had to play the waiting game.

I sat in the dressing room and broke off small pieces of a chocolate bar while the other girls mingled and gossiped about the acts and who they thought was placing where. I tried not to dwell on it, but I did nonetheless. My leg bounced uncontrollably, eyes set on the floor while my mom sat beside me.

“What does this emoji mean?” I turned to look at her phone. She caught sight of the end of mine and Jack’s conversation.

“I don’t know mom.. it’s just a dancer.”

When they began to announce awards, all of the dancers were called to a roped off section of the auditorium to sit. I passed the side where Jim and Ellen sat, and received a fist bump from Jimmy on the way by. I tried not to give Jack any attention, knowing if I did, I’d be even more anxious to go home empty handed in front of him.

As the groups were gone through, and recognitions handed out as well as prizes, I began to tense up.

I was gripping the edge of my seat. Only one person could be in first place of my group.

They announced the third. My heart panicked, but it made me hopeful to be second or first.

They announced the second, and my chest began to tighten while my doubts sank in. My chances narrowed. Slim to none.

The woman on stage announced the first, and all of a sudden, everything wasn’t real any more. I heard my mother screaming her lungs out. I heard Jack’s voice in the back of my head, ‘celly a little.’ What did that even look like for me?

When my emotions caught up with my body, it looked like running in place, bouncing from foot to foot, and shouting at the top of my lungs. Then I bounded out of my isle and up onto the stage. I was presented with a sash and a trophy. Then a pretty silver crown. The woman on stage congratulated me, allowed for a few rounds of applause, and I was sent to sit again. Somebody came by to take my trophy to the back for me. I insisted to keep the crown and the sash.

When the competition was brought to a close, and everyone was thanked for coming, I leapt out of my seat, running to find my parents and the rest of my ‘fans.’ I smoothed down my skirt before reaching my mom, giving her the tightest hug I could before my dad playfully pushed her aside. I heard a voice smack talking my father from behind.

“Come on man, let me see her!” The voice finally pleaded, and my dad let me go, stepping aside to let me at Jack. I bounced into his arms, and he practically swung me from side to side as I shouted in pure joy.

“God you were mesmerizing! I love you so much.” We were only fifteen, but we swore we were in love with one another.

“Thank you for coming Jack,” I breathed a sigh of relief into his shoulder before I felt a force shove his weight into mine, pushing him forward and myself back.

“Let her go, loser. We want some too.” Quinn’s words made Jack reluctantly let me go, and the eldest brother quickly slipped past to wrap his arms around me. The crown on my head slipped, but Quinn was quick to snatch it before it fell.

“I’ll hold onto this, yeah?” The eldest brother offered, making me smile and nod.

“You were awesome. Luke got a video.” Quinn informed me, slowly pulling away.

“Luke got a video?” Ellen was reaching to grab her phone from her youngest.

Instead of hugs, Luke and I exchanged a quick handshake we made up long ago before he smiled at me. “It was pretty okay,” the blonde teased. I ruffled his somewhat styled hair.

I went through with the rest of the group, greeting each of the players with smiles and high fives or fist bumps. By the time I got to the end, I realized Jack had gone around to meet me there, I giggled softly at his eagerness. He had a twinkle in his eyes that made me want to hug him forever in that moment.

We shared another quick embrace, my eyes caught on a camera behind Jack. Ellen’s boys couldn’t escape the screen this time. When Jack pulled away, I gestured for him to take his suit jacket off. For the rest of the time we stood around talking, Jack held his jacket up, concealing us from whatever cameras we spotted.

The end was the sloppy part. Everybody was getting packed up and beginning to leave. The competition had been far from home, but the hotel we were booked to stay in was nice. The hockey team had to be somewhere else, as did the Hughes boys, but Ellen told Jack she could stay with him in her room where I was only one door down that night.

By the time we left the competition building, it was pitch black outside.

“Mom, can I go with Jack?” I asked softly, and she was quick to nod a yes. My dad offered to travel with the hockey team on the bus, so Jim could spend some time with his family after being apart. Quinn and Luke took the middle seats while Jack and I crammed ourselves into the back together. Despite the jovial moods everyone was in, exhaustion was also evident. A few things were said before silence filled the car on the ride to the hotel.

“You did so good.. I was so nervous every time you jumped. You’ve never done that before in the living room.” Jack and I whispered back and forth as we sat, practically sharing the middle seat in the back. We had unbuckled to be closer. Not the safest move, I’ll admit.

“You really did look handsome tonight.” I whispered in return, reaching up to rest my hands on his shoulders.

“I loved your dance outfit.. but I think these sweatpants look better on you.” Jack teased softly as he rested his head atop the seat he leaned half of his body against. Our knees were touching, legs folded up onto the seats to make facing one another as comfortable as possible.

I dropped my head to rest against the top of the seat as well, our eyes never wandering unless to look at the other’s lips. We’ve never kissed before. In the dark, in the back of the car, it felt like our own little world. Jack must have been thinking the same thing I was.

Our heads slowly drew nearer before our lips touched. Nobody reached out to touch the other, still too hesitant to do much else, but the kiss was electric.

After we pulled away, silence followed. Jack smiled at me, and I smiled back. Within minutes, I scooted closer and rested a hand on his knee, sighing to myself and slowly dozing off as Jack began pulling the pins out of my hair and taking the bun out. I was out like a light before the ends of my hair ever met my shoulders.

✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾

#jack hughes #jack hughes x reader #nhl imagine #jack hughes imagine #nhl x reader #quinn hughes #luke hughes

350 notes · View notes

withacapitalp · 1 year

Text

How to Rehabilitate a Jock in Four Months Part 11

Part One Part 10 Part Twelve Link to Ao3

Alrighty guys I want you all to thank @stevethehairington for betaing this and making it fantastic, @henderdads for making the poll that made me finally finish writing this, and @steveshairychest for being a furry lmaooo (Sorry I had to)

Also I know you guys reallllly aren't going to want to hear this, but I wanted to put out one more chapter before I let you know that HTRAJ is going on a hiatus. Not a long one! I just have way too many WIPs going right now, and two of them are Valentines gifts (and good reads if I do say so myself!)

Step Eleven: Play Some Music

“Steve gets shotgun,” Eddie called as they exited the trailer, tossing Steve a smile that made his chest feel fuzzy as he jumped down the last two steps.

“What the hell man?” Jeff grumbled, looking slightly put out, “We take turns,”

Steve opened his mouth to say he didn’t mind and he would take sitting in the back, but Eddie pushed him towards the van with ease.

“Steve’s never been inside of Hortensia, he deserves to see her at her absolute best,” He reasoned, giving Jeff a big megawatt smile and waiting to see what he would say. He still didn’t seem thrilled, but Jeff just rolled his eyes and climbed into the backseat.

Steve would have made a comment on the fact that Eddie had named his beat up clunker ‘Hortensia’ of all things, but it was just so Eddie that all he could do was smile and shake his head. That was classic Eddie, always seeing the good, always finding something to make better. A trashy white van was Hortensia, an ex-jock was a potential friend.

It was his superpower, almost as strong as El’s.

“Your ride, my liege,” Eddie said, opening the passenger side theatrically. Steve rolled his eyes and climbed in, buckling his seatbelt as Eddie jumped into the drivers side seat and flourished his keys.

“Let’s get this show on the road,” Eddie declared, turning the ignition.

Nothing.

Another attempt. The van gave a low grumble but did nothing.

“Damn hunk of junk, piece of shit, mother-”

“Hortensia, huh?” Steve said with a raised brow, interrupting Eddie’s tirade of angry muttering. He threw Steve a slightly dirty look, staring at him directly in the eye as he tried the ignition again.

Bingo. The van roared to life, headlights instantly taking the empty blackness around the trailer and filling it with trees. The entire group cheered as Eddie victoriously beeped the horn, and Steve opened his mouth to say some stupid comment that would probably make everyone laugh.

Then the headlights flickered.

In a single moment the ease, the happiness, it was just gone. Like a fire in dry brush, it had disappeared, and all that was left was a quick panicky feeling that there was something watching them, something waiting nearby.

He needed his bat.

“What the hell- Woah, what’re you doing?!” Eddie demanded as Steve shoved his way out of the car, walking over to his Beemer. He had already gotten his backpack out and was rifling through it by the time Eddie snuck up on him.

“Steve?” Eddie asked softly.

Eddie was out of the van. He was vulnerable. If something was sneaking up on them, then he would be the first one down.

Steve moved quickly, spinning the two of them so Eddie was up against his car, and Steve was out in front of him. That was better. He didn’t have a weapon, but he knew how to fight these things. At the very least, Eddie would have the time to run to the van if things went bad.

“Do you see anything?” Steve asked, looking around them.

The lights had only flickered once, just once, but once was enough. Once was a warning, and ignoring that would be stupid.

That was Hopper’s number one rule. Don’t be Stupid.

“What should I be seeing? A boogeyman?” Eddie teased, standing up straight and walking over to Steve, “You think I’m gonna see a were-”

“Eddie,” Steve cut him off with a severe look, grabbing Eddie’s wrist and pulling him behind him again, “Do you see anything?”

“No,” Eddie murmured after a moment. Steve spared a quick glance behind him, faltering when he saw just how uneasy Eddie was.

“There’s…Steve there’s nothing out there,”

Nothing out there. The lights were clear, they had been the entire time, and there was no growling, no sound of strange steps creeping up. Just the purr of a rusty engine, and the sound of Steve’s blood racing in his ears.

Eddie was right. There was nothing out there.

A rush of humiliation barreled over Steve, erasing everything else. He let out a slow shaking breath, running a hand over his face and hating the way his eyes were starting to burn.

A few lights acting funny and he turned into this? Over lights?

“Are you-”

“I’m fine,” Steve whispered, the lie strikingly obvious to both of them, “Just-”

Steve reached around Eddie and grabbed his backpack off of the ground, hefting it up over one shoulder and turning back to the van.

“I have what I need. Let’s go,” Steve said, closing the door before Eddie could ask him again if he was okay.

Flashlight, walkie-talkie, car keys, first aid kit, knife.

Flashlight, walkie-talkie, car keys, first aid kid, knife.

Flashlight-

What was he doing?

Steve forced an exhale, pushing all of the air out of his lungs, letting the deafening chatter from the car around sink back in, and finally releasing the death grip he had on his bag.

The backpack that had his flashlight, walkie-talkie, car keys, first aid kit, and knife. Everything he could carry inconspicuously in case of an emergency. His knife wasn’t ideal, but better than nothing. Steve would have loved to have Baby with him too, but she had to stay in the trunk of the Beemer. The last thing he needed was everyone to know how actually insane he was now, and carrying around a bat full of nails was a one way ticket to the loony bin.

Maybe he should ask Nancy to teach him how to shoot a gun. A pistol was easily hidden, and-

Jesus. There really was something wrong with him.

This was fun. Steve was supposed to be having fun. It was just a nice normal night with nice normal friends. The gates were closed, the kids were all together having a sleepover at the Wheeler’s, everything was just fine.

So why was his stomach still twisted up in knots? Why was he obsessively looking out the window at the trees, just to make sure nothing was running alongside the van?

“What do you think, Steve?” Eddie asked, thrusting Steve back into the conversation happening all around him. The bumping bass from the radio was gone, and the rest of the group was now staring at him, waiting for an answer.

Shit.

Steve curled his hand around the strap of his backpack again, shrugging and giving Eddie a tight lipped smile, hoping that would be at least a somewhat adequate answer. Judging by Eddie’s furrowed brow and downturned mouth, it wasn’t.

Flashlight. Walkie-Talkie. Car Keys. First Aid Kit. Knife. Flashlight. Walkie-Talkie. Car Keys. First Aid Kit. Knife.

“He probably hasn’t listened to either of them yet,” Jeff cut in, tapping his chin.

Oh. They were still talking about bands. Steve probably couldn’t have answered that question even if he had been listening instead of quietly freaking out.

“You can tell us which was your favorite after the show,” Frank said, making eye contact with Steve from the rearview mirror and giving him an easygoing smile. Steve returned it, feeling the tension in his shoulders ease up ever so slightly.

Frank was a cool guy. Understated, but nice. He always kind of hung around in the back, but that was fine. In a group like Hellfire with so many big personalities, having a steady person like Frank helped to balance everything out.

“I still think he would like Black Sabbath best,” Jeff said, settling back in his seat.

“Of course you think that,” Gareth replied with a roll of his eyes, pausing for a minute before crossing his arms and continuing in a begrudging tone, “Quiet Riot. Everyone can appreciate them. Even Steve.”

It wasn’t exactly an insult, so Steve decided to let go of any part of him that bristled at Gareth’s words. Gareth was a lot like Mike, it took him time to warm up. It was just…taking a bit longer than Steve had expected it to.

Whatever. He liked a good challenge.

“Trust me, we’ll play a song from the new Dio album and Steve’ll be a total convert,” Eddie said, shooting Steve a bright smile that warmed him from the top of his head to the tip of his toes. “We’ll have to get you a battle vest to match mine soon enough,”

Without really thinking about it, Steve let go of his bag and reached up to play with the guitar pick hanging around his neck. Even just touching it was enough to ease away whatever nerves were still rolling around his body.

It wasn’t like he was magically some different person, but wearing Eddie’s clothes and having his necklace was… it was almost like there was a shield. They were a buffer, a barrier between Steve and the fear that seemed to rule over everything he did nowadays. Here he wasn’t the babysitter or the protector. He was the new kid, someone who was still learning and allowed to slip up. If he didn’t know something, then it wasn’t the end of the world.

“You sure you’re okay?” Eddie asked, staying quiet so the other three who were still debating wouldn’t hear him.

“Yeah,” Steve replied immediately, squeezing his fingers around the chain and taking a slow deep breath, “better now,”

“If you wanna talk, I’m always here,” Eddie whispered back, giving Steve one more soft glance before turning his eyes back to the road. Steve sighed, dropping his hands back to his lap and letting his head rest against the seatbelt, closing his eyes so he didn’t have to see the forest around them.

The thing was, Steve knew he wanted to talk to Eddie. He wanted to tell him that Dustin had left at 4 o’clock today, and Steve had been late because he was nervous about coming tonight. He wanted to tell Eddie that he was worried about fitting in, worried about letting his guard down, worried about the endless ‘what-if's' that seemed to run around in his mind in an endless loop these days. Eddie would listen, and even if he didn’t understand, he would empathize.

Steve wanted to, but he couldn’t.

Because Eddie was understanding, but he was also so so nosey. He would poke and prod and try to learn the whole story, because he wouldn’t be able to help himself, and Steve couldn’t handle that. If that happened, Steve would have to pull back, put distance between them. Not only to protect himself and his people, but to protect Eddie too.

Steve had seen what happened to people who got pulled into their world.

Bob was what happened.

And even the thought of something like that happening to Eddie made Steve’s heart race. He reached up to touch the guitar pick again just to ground himself in the moment.

It was fine. Nothing was going to happen to Eddie. Nothing was going to happen to any of them. Steve wouldn’t let anything ever happen to any of them.

“Alright freeloaders, we’re here!” Eddie crowed, and Steve opened his eyes just as they pulled into the parking lot of a dingy looking hovel.

The place looked about two steps from being closed for a health code violation, and Steve was instantly reminded that his mom had made him promise to never get within a thousand feet of the Hideout. It was apparently a bar for ‘other’ kinds of people. Mechanics and factory workers and cashiers. Not Harringtons.

But here he was, right outside, and the world hadn’t caved in. Imagine that. Steve laughed quietly to himself, getting out of the van and coming around to the back with the rest.

“‘Sup douchebags!” A voice called from across the parking lot.

Rocky and Janet were walking over, both decked out in their metal best. Rocky was wearing the same spiked vest he wore every day, but he had chosen a pair of jeans to go with it that was more chain than denim, a look that would have gotten him sent straight to detention if he so much as stepped onto the parking lot of the school wearing it. Janet was wearing her usual attire, but her hair was up in a messy bun complete with deep dark eyeliner and a skull patterned choker.

“Hey asshole,” Gareth replied, slapping Rocky’s hand against his own and opening the van door, “Help us with set up?”

As they began to coordinate getting all of the stuff out of the van, Janet skipped over to Frank to chat.

“I thought you weren’t allowed to come out tonight,” Frank said, rubbing his arm and giving her a timid smile.

“I wasn’t. As far as my parents know I’m asleep in bed right now,” She replied, giving Frank a mischievous little grin as she kissed him quickly on the cheek, turning around before she could see the way the boy immediately turned into a tomato.

“Hi Steve. I like the new look. You should wear it to school when we go back. Start 1985 off with a bang,” Janet said in her normal slightly snarky tone.

“Hi Janet,” Steve said, shoving his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket and ducking his head down to hide the stupid grin on his face as she came over to inspect him, pointing out various add-ons he could have made to get the ‘true full metal experience’.

This was the thing he had been searching for. Blissful normalcy with dumb conversations and stupid lighthearted jabs. Something easy that wasn’t bogged down in reality.

“Hup two, guys. We’re already late,” Eddie huffed, pulling on an amp that was far too big for him to hold up on his own.

“And who’s fault is that?” Jeff said with a roll of his eyes, quickly stepping in to take the other side of the equipment and gently easing it out of the van. Steve grabbed a random box and hefted it up, walking towards the door with Janet hot on his heels, still examining his new outfit.

“Is that Eddie’s necklace?” She blurted out the second she spotted the dark red swirls, her jaw dropping open comically wide as she stared at it with huge eyes.

“Someone decided to play Heavy Metal Barbie with pretty boy right before we were supposed to leave,” Gareth grunted, accidentally smacking Rocky with one of his drums as he stepped out of the van.

“Okay! Let’s just get moving, please!” Eddie quickly shouted in an uncharacteristically high pitched voice, practically dragging Jeff as he hurried into the bar.

If Steve wanted to let himself over examine things, then he would have dared to say that Eddie was blushing. Instead of assessing that particular thought, he grabbed the door and held it open for the rest.

With all seven of them working, set up went quickly, and before too long there were only a few things left to get.

“I’ll grab them so you can start tuning or whatever,” Steve offered.

“I’ll go with you,” Rocky said, pulling Steve out of the bar.

“You know, I can’t believe he let you wear his lucky pick,” Rocky said the second they were alone outside, pitching his voice low even though there was no one to overhear them. “He doesn’t even let anyone else touch it, let alone wear it. ”

This was enough to stop Steve in his tracks, his eyes darting down to the little piece of plastic around his neck.

No one else was even allowed to touch it?

The necklace was already sentimental enough when it was just Eddie’s favorite. Now it was something precious, a treasure that wasn’t meant for any other person. Steve had been joking about Eddie staking a claim on him before, but the guitar pick practically felt like a brand at this point.

The startling thing was just how much Steve didn’t mind.

It was the same as ‘Sweetheart’. This was another thing that guys weren’t supposed to do for other guys, another thing that Steve shouldn’t want. He should be taking it off right now, handing it back to Eddie and going home back to the life he belonged in.

None of this was right. Steve shouldn’t be here at a bar meant for people who were supposedly below him, he shouldn’t be dressed up like a metalhead going to listen to thrashing loud music in the middle of the night, and he certainly shouldn’t be happy Eddie Munson was having him wear something he wouldn’t even let anyone else even touch.

This wasn’t the way things were supposed to be. This wasn’t who Steve was supposed to be.

But was anything the way it was meant to be anymore?

There were monsters from other dimensions and little girls who could move things with their minds. There were government cover ups, evil scientists, and dead people all over the place.

No, nothing was how it was supposed to be anymore. At least this was a change that made Steve happy. He didn’t need to think about that too much, or try to figure out why.

At least, he didn’t need to yet.

“Well…maybe he just thought I could use some good luck tonight,” Steve murmured, reaching up and letting his fingers rest against the necklace for a moment before grabbing one last amp and walking back into the bar. He put it down gently on the floor of the ‘stage’ (It was a rickety wooden platform that was barely a feet off the ground, but Eddie had called it a stage), fully intending to turn right around and go back to the car to get his backpack.

“That was the last of it, Sweetheart,” Eddie called from behind, making Steve stop short, “Rocky and Jan grabbed the best table in the house for you guys. It’s far enough that the drunks won’t hurl on you if they end up having a little bit too much. ”

“Oh um,” Steve’s mind flitted around as he looked for any excuse he could use, “I…left my wallet in the van,”

Steve crossed his fingers, praying that Eddie wouldn’t call out the very obvious wallet shaped lump in his right pants pocket.

“You won’t need it,” Eddie said smoothly, hopping down and steering Steve gently towards the table with their friends, “The barkeep knows to keep my people fed and watered. Just let him know you’re here with me, or better yet, make Rocky do all the heavy lifting. He is a freshman after all, he has to take his licks.”

That would be great if Steve was actually worried about his wallet. He wasn’t. He needed his flashlight, walkie-talkie, car keys, first aid kit, and knife. He needed to be prepared in case things went wrong.

He needed those things, but he couldn’t explain to Eddie why, and he couldn’t walk out right now without looking like he was trying to ditch. Steve’s breathing started to kick up, and he could feel his heart leaping in his chest.

They weren’t safe right now. Anything could happen, and he wasn’t prepared. Anything could go wrong, and-

“Relax,” Eddie said slowly as they reached the table, pulling out a stool and nudging Steve towards it, “No one’s gonna bite,”

“I will,” Rocky immediately replied, baring his teeth just for show.

“Okay well don’t sit too close to him, and you’ll be just fine,” Eddie laughed, the other two Hellfire members snickering alongside him. This was where Steve should laugh with them too, but his throat was closing up.

He was in a place he didn’t know, with a group who he didn’t really know, without anything to defend himself or keep in touch with his people.

This wasn’t safe. Steve wasn’t safe right now.

A soft touch on his arm startled him and he jumped back. Or he would have, if Eddie hadn’t held on and kept him from moving and crashing into the table. Steve stiffened up, looking up at Eddie knowing that he wasn’t doing a damn thing to hide how freaked out he had become.

He couldn’t care about that. He couldn't care about anything except how dangerous everything had suddenly become.

“Seriously. Everything’s okay. I promise,” Eddie whispered, leaning in so their heads were close together. Steve closed his eyes, taking a deep breath the way Joyce had shown him. In for four, hold for four, out for four.

Usually it didn’t do anything for him, breathing slowly normally only made him even more aware of how little air there was in the room, but the breathing combined with Eddie’s hand still on his arm was enough to get Steve centered again.

Everything was okay. The kids were safe, Nancy and Jonathan were safe, Hopper and Joyce were safe.

Steve was safe.

He was out with friends doing something fun, and there was nothing wrong with that. This was normal. This was what he was working towards. All he wanted was something easy, and this was easy. He didn’t have to make things complicated by being afraid.

And, if anything went wrong, he could just run outside and get his things.

“Thanks,” Steve whispered.

“Anytime,” Eddie whispered back, his big dark eyes locked on Steve’s. Once again Steve was completely aware of the guitar pick around his neck, and the fact that no one else was even allowed to touch it.

“Eddie! Seriously! Tick fucking tock!” Frank shouted from the ‘stage’. Eddie growled quietly, muttering to himself about evil bandmates who had no sense of boundaries. Steve snorted, chuckling softly until Eddie stopped grumbling.

“Have a good show,” Steve said, pulling away from Eddie and hopping up onto the stool.

“Prepare to have your world rocked,” Eddie said, trying to act cool as he walked backwards, but tripping on the world’s tiniest step and falling flat on his ass on the stage.

Steve made a valiant attempt to not laugh along with the rest of the bar, but he quickly failed, tossing his head back and laughing loudly, putting a hand on his chest and feeling the hard plastic against his fingertips. Eddie paused, giving Steve an indescribable look before straightening up and brushing away the invisible dirt from his vest.

“And with that incredibly suave move, I’d like to formally introduce our band to the dozen or so drunks that are here tonight,” Eddie said into the mic, spreading his arms out wide like he would at Hellfire. The meager crowd yelled back and raised their drinks, making Eddie put on an absolutely feral grin

“Ladies and gentleworms, we are Corroded Coffin,”

Much like Dungeons and Dragons, Steve hadn’t really expected that he would enjoy the show. He liked Eddie and he enjoyed the rest of the group, so he figured he would come and watch and be a good sport.

And, much like Dungeons and Dragons, he was completely wrong.

It wasn’t his favorite genre of music by any means, but the energy in the air was absolutely enthralling. From the first note there was just this push, this indescribable palpable movement in the air that was exhilarating while also being settling. It was like they were collectively experiencing something special, and all having a grand old time while doing it.

It didn’t hurt that he was also about four whiskey sours in.

He had only planned to drink one, maybe two, but every time his glass was empty another magically appeared by his arm, courtesy of Rocky and Janet. He had tried to turn them down a few times, but they could be awfully persuasive when they wanted to be, and Steve couldn’t help hoping that the alcohol might clear up the last bit of the panic that was still rolling around in his head.

So with a warm fire in his belly and a brain that was finally for once quieting down, he happily listened as Janet and Rocky screamed the lyrics right alongside Eddie and the rest. He couldn’t really understand, per say, but the energy was all that mattered.

And then, halfway into their set, everything fell apart.

“Alright, everyone,” Eddie said as they caught their breath from an original that left everyone slapping their tables and stomping their feet, “It’s time to settle a bet.”

He turned to face Steve dead on, a gleam in his eyes that had nothing to do with the low light of the bar.

“We have, let’s call him a…metal virgin, with us tonight,” Eddie drawled, letting the crowd hoot and holler as they pleased. There was less than two dozen people in the bar with them, and there was no way any of them besides Hellfire knew that Eddie was talking about Steve, but he still felt like every eye in the room had just turned to him.

“Earlier tonight the band and I were trying to figure out who would make him a convert. Black Sabbath, Quiet Riot, Metallica. I said Dio, because I think this song is right up his alley. So, this one’s for you,”

Steve’s heart began to race in a completely brand new way as Eddie began shredding down on his guitar, joined by Gareth with an impressively quick beat on the drums.

The song was good. It was fast-paced, lively, and Steve could actually follow along with the lyrics unlike some of the more intense songs from before. Eddie had hit it exactly. The song was just another example of Eddie knowing him even more than Steve expected him to.

It was so good in fact, that Steve almost didn’t notice the lights behind the bar begin to flicker.

Almost.

Steve’s hands began to shake as his eyes darted around, looking at all of the walls. The other lights were also flickering, but the walls were still straight and narrow. No bending. No monsters.

Not yet.

Or not here.

Steve’s heart dropped as reality slapped him square across the face. If the lights were flickering, but there was no sign of any monsters, then they were close, but not here. They could be anywhere, going after anyone.

Going after one of his people.

Steve stumbled off the stool, catching Janet and Rocky’s attention as he nearly toppled to the ground.

“Steve! Are you okay?!” Janet yelled above the noise.

No, he wasn’t okay. He was a stupid fool in fact. A complete idiot who had honestly let himself believe that the danger was gone when he knew it wasn’t.

“I- I need to-” Steve couldn’t finish the sentence, couldn’t make his breath even enough to find the words for what he needed.

He needed his bat. He needed his backpack. He needed to get in touch with Hopper. He needed to get out of here.

He needed to find his kids.

And then, just as Eddie hit one last screeching solo note on his guitar, everything went dark.

Tag List: @paopaupaus @zerokrox-blog @surferboyzaza @whatever-is-a-good-name @minjintea @addelyin @5ammi90 @hagbaby420 @shinekocreator @bornonthesavage @starxlark @electrick-marionnett @resident-gay-bitch @ash-a-confused-enby @classicdinosaurdeathpose @valon-whomsttf @rotten-lil-goblin @thereindeerlady @love-ya-kash @kerlypride @sparkle-fiend @thefreakandthehair @flowercrowngods @milf-harrington @sadcanadianwinter @gothbat99 @hotcocoaharrington @henderdads @lightwoodbanethings @colorful565 @h0n3y-dw @craterbbox @sourw0lfs @lesliiieeeee @bidisastersworld @tinynebula @ravnlinn @bonescaro @mexmatch @cottagecoredreams @joruni @hellykelly @maegan1116 @farewell-wanderlvst @desertfern @due-to-the-fact-that-im-a-slut @anythingforourmoonyedits @eerielake @fandemonium-takes-its-toll @sidekick-hero

384 notes · View notes

robotsdeservebetter · 5 months

Text

Amber is not a bad person, you’re just mad that “Invincible” rightfully so told you that a girlfriend isn’t something the world owes you for being a good guy.

First of all, yes, Amber is flawed. Some of her actions were questionable, like threatening a bully to flirt with Mark or arguing with him in front of other people right before break up, which I see as her giving him a last chance to come clean, but, if I remember correctly, why in front of others? Also, she genuinely could have thought Mark ran away alone, leaving them, girlfriend and best friend, in danger, because him being Invincible is a theory from her POV, not a fact. Similar voice (even if it’s Steven Yuen), body and hair isn’t enough to say “Yep. Totally the same person”. And, actually, when the theory was confirmed true, it’s even worse than him just being a coward who suddenly leaves all the time. Why?

Because how in the world do you expect a relationship work, if you keep half of your life a secret? Boundaries are good, but Mark put a concrete wall with barbed wire and laser guns and hoped Amber would be understanding enough to pretend she’s blind until he decides it’s time. Amber did questionable things, she was impulsive at times, that’s true, but fuck ups isn’t a competition, it’s not healthy to treat them as such, which is why Amber’s anger was completely justified. Please take a look back at how he treated her.

He embarrassed Amber in front of her Mom by promising to come and not doing so. Mark showed up two hours later, when Amber’s Mom already wasn’t there to meet him. Imagine the awkwardness, the judgement, the “he will be there”. He mentioned things Amber was interested in, but due to him being able to do them thanks to superpowers, couldn’t elaborate, and blatantly changed the topic, which can sting, not enough to make an accusation, but obviously is a way to hide truth, alternatively, can be seen a lie to win Amber’s affections. He bought her a gift to make up for incoming fuck up, which can also sting (even if Amber is materialistic, her being an activist makes it safe to assume she was wondering whether that apology gift came from the stereotype or not). And of course, all the times he left with a made up excuse.

It’s important to note, that the show gave Mark a choice and that he made it. Eve told him that if he’s serious about Amber, he shouldn’t keep such secrets from her. Her own relationship fell apart due to lack of trust (and that Rex is overall a dick). The show made it clear that Mark doesn’t trust Amber, his girlfriend, enough to tell her. So what we have here is that Mark wants everything at once: a solid relationship, which requires both understanding and consent from Amber and trust from him, and safety of only chosen few to know his secret identity. He kept his identity secret, so next step should have been breaking up with Amber. Did he? No, he decided to string her along.

The show treats his decision to lie to Amber as a bad one because it is a bad decision. Mark’s feelings are valid, Amber’s are too and Amber felt left behind, kept as a token girlfriend. Mark only came clean when Amber broke up with him, as a last resort to keep their relationship. Trust isn’t a last resort, it’s the base of the base! Mark made his stance clear: “I don’t trust you, but I will use my sensitive information to convince you to stay and ignore my previous fuck ups”. Thinking about it, he practically used Invincible identity just like the expensive gift from fest: a grand gesture he made only when he risked losing Amber. This is not romantic, if you ask me and Amber.

What I’m trying to say is: Mark can risk his life every single day, and as unfair as it may feel, no other person is required to give him understanding, especially if they don’t know for sure what’s going on. Mark ended up with two opinions from Amber’s POV, both of which are horrible:

Not Invincible. He’s a coward, who leaves his girlfriend and best friend behind, not even trying to make them run away with him. He lies about being interested in same things as her. Brought a rock as a souvenir, which she regarded kindly. He upset Amber’s mom for no apparent reason. In response, all he could do is ask for forgiveness and not give any explanation. Conclusion: not a boyfriend material.

Is Invincible. He claimed to be serious about her, but kept half of his life, his genes a secret, which led to him stringing her along and only offering a “sorry” without explanations. Conclusion: he’s not serious about her, he might not understand it, but he’s not, serious relationship requires trust.

Then, why did she kiss him after a fight with Omni-man? Well, since she’s not an antagonist from any point of view, it’s safe to assume that Amber:

Still loved Mark. The amount of second chances she gave him, the amount of times she dosmissed his obvious lying speaks for her.

Wanted to comfort him and prevent awkwardness. They’re 17-18, how mature are any of them to accept Mark’s ex as a part of the gang without making it awkward?

Combining those two is what she came up with. Is it a good decision? I don’t think it is, they made up for now, but Mark trusts her now not because he decided he can, but because he was “forced” to tell (by plot or himself, so to speak, re-look at points made in paragraph 6. That didn’t come from his almost trust is what I mean).

In the end, fandom has nothing to complain about. Mark DID get his “my personality is to support you” girlfriend. Amber calmed down for now.

So yeah, Amber is not a bad character, she just doesn’t treat Mark like a god. You know who also doesn’t? Eve. A thing to note: Mark trusted her without question. A parallel? A will they won’t they? Who cares, we all know what will happen with their relationship anyway.

In the end I want to say, that I enjoyed Amber’s character. Despite being main superhero’s girlfriend, she didn’t feel generic, and that’s what makes Invincible so good for me: it’s aware of superhero tropes it can’t or chose not to avoid and executes them in a way that makes the characters ambiguous, in a way that makes me question the way I and fandoms categorise characters. Amber is flawed and that’s what makes her human. Writers took a risk to make things complicated, to make an imperfect woman of colour (please don’t say these don’t matter unless you understand racism and sexism can be subconscious), which you can say didn’t pay off, but I’m glad they took the risk, I enjoyed how it all turned out.

#amber bennett #mark grayson #invincible

106 notes · View notes

killerpancakeburger · 8 months

Text

Bloody nose // Miguel O'Hara

Pairing: Miguel O'hara x female reader

Summary: You find out that your 14yo niece is spider-woman and are very pissed about her keeping it a secret from you. But as you're lecturing her, her boss from the spidersociety shows up. Needless to say you are not happy to see him.

Warnings: canon violence, swearing, mention of alcohol drinking.

Tags : comedy, action, slow burn, Reader has superpowers, but is neither a hero nor villain, BAMF!Reader, Reader takes no shit, Miguel takes a beating but he's fine I promise, no use of Y/N.

Words: 2539.

A/N: Haven't written fics in years and its my first time writing one in English so, uh, go easy on me i guess? 😅

The night was falling on New York. The booming laughs of your coworkers were resonating in the bar where you were spending your evening after work.

Being a bodyguard/security guard meant working in a field oversaturated with testosterone, but you made it work somehow. After all, a demonstration of your powers was always enough to deter any doubts on your abilities, and the rare stubborn ones left who harassed you about it were eventually convinced by a good beating. You quickly gave up on hiding your powers, since no one who saw you get shot and walk away with bruises would believe you were normal. But that's when NDAs came in handy. All in all, you liked your current company, your boss, and your teammates. To the point of spending time with them outside work, which meant a lot coming from you.

You're sipping your beer on a stool as usual, listening in on the conversations, when a notification makes you look at your phone. It's a text from an unknown number with a file attached. The text, laconic, says: "Thought you might wanna know about this."

When you recognize what's happening on the picture you received, you spit out your beer in shock and start choking.

"What the fuck!" You manage to groan.

Unfortunately your behaviour haven't gone unnoticed by your coworkers, and before you can say anything else, they start poking fun at you.

"What's happening to you? Can't handle your alcohol anymore?

"I know the beer is bad but its not that bad. You're gonna give the barman a complex."

"Did you receive a thirst trap or something?"

You do not grace them with an answer.

Beyond the good-natured mockeries, you see your closest colleague discreetly checking that you're not really choking to your death.

You have no time to lose. You finish your glass in one shot and gets up. Protests and falsely upset booing rise around you.

"It's way too early to leave!"

You cut short the argument with two words: "duty calls", which everyone of them know is code for “urgent private family matters”.

You grabs your leather jacket, your helmet, you dump a bunch of cash on the counter than is enough for your drinks, tips, and more, and you get out of here like the devil's on your heels.

Once outside, the fresh air helps to clean your mind. You take a deep breath before you start texting the number from earlier.

"Surely you wouldn't sent me this without coordinates?"

You can hardly stay still waiting, but the response comes up barely a minute later, with coordinates and a sarcastic message: "She's on top of an abandoned building of 50 floors. So have fun with that."

You swear at the new information. "Great! Just fucking great!"

You straddle your motorbike and take off like a shot. As you drive, the photo you received is stuck in your mind. Naomi, your 14 years old niece, wearing some kind of superhero suit, sitting carelessly on the ledge of a building. Between her recklessness and the fact that she kept being apparently a freaking superhero from you, when you've always been close, you feel your blood boiling. You imagine how the upcoming confrontation will go. Will she be ashamed? Panicked? Angry?

Not sticking exactly to the speeding limits has you right where you want to be in a short time. You inspect the building from outside. Abandoned means no electricity, and no electricity means no elevator for you... You leave your helmet and your bike behind. You assess the building, noticing large enough grips for climbing, and figure out how high you can get just by jumping. Then you walk backwards a few meters, take off running, gathering speed, and leaps as high as your superhuman body can. As soon as you reach the peak of your jump, you grab the closest ledge. Secure in your climbing, you start your ascension, going as fast as you can. Missing Naomi because you were too slow is out of the question.

You soon reach the top and dust yourself off a bit before going after your niece. The bright colours of her suit makes her easy to catch. You sneak behind her, ready to catch her if she falls, and calls her full name in a tone that betrays your frustration. You hate sounding like a parent grounding their kid – there are reasons why you’ve never had one after all –, but it's too late now.

She has more or less the reaction you were expecting – she flinches hard, and turns to look at you with a melange of shock and horror that makes you feel like the Grim Reaper coming for her life. She puts a hand on the back of her neck in embarrassment, and offers you a smile that looks like a grimace more than anything else.

“Au-auntie… what… what are you doing here…?”

She lets slip a nervous little laugh as she gets up from the edge but keeps a distance from you.

You cross your arms and looks at her sternly, trying to communicate with your glare that she better not try to bullshit you.

“I’m the one who should be asking you that question.”

The grimace widens and she avoids your gaze. You notice beads of sweat forming on her forehead.

“Oh well it’s a funny story, see-“

“What the hell are you wearing? Are you trying to be a superhero?”

“I’m not trying-“

She seems insulted at the assumption, and regains a bit of confidence for the first time since you arrived.

“You really thought you could hide this from me?”

You are her only family member with superpowers, even if you never tried to be a superhero.

“Oh auntie, it’s not like that…”

She looks genuinely sorry, like she understood that you felt hurt by being shut out.

“Then what is it? I can’t believe you hid this from me. I’m not your dad. I wouldn’t have been mad at you. Did I make you feel like you couldn’t tell me?.”

You sigh and bow your head with a disappointment you can’t contain.

Naomi makes a step towards you, worry on her face, extending her arm like she wanted to comfort you.

“Listen, it’s not that I didn’t want to tell you, but they made me promise not to…”

Your eyes open wide in horror and realization dawn on your face. Your whole body tense.

“They? Who the fuck is they? Are you being blackmailed?!”

You can’t help from raising your voice. Panic surges through you. You’re not one to lose your cool easily, but your niece is the exception to the rule. You’ve loved Naomi unconditionally since she came into this world. She could probably become a murderer and your feelings wouldn’t change. However, since her mother died – since your sister died –, she became the apple of your eye. You’ll be damned before you let anyone harm her.

Meanwhile Naomi panics too, but for what seems to be considerably different reasons. She grabs her hair and start walking in circles.

“Damn it! That’s not what I meant… I’m not supposed to… I promised I’d… Crap! Listen, I’m not being blackmailed, I swear!”

“Oh yeah? Then what-“

You’re interrupted by an incessant beeping that you quickly identify as coming from some kind of watch Naomi’s wearing. You narrow your eyes in defiance. You’ve never seen that thing before.

“What is that?”

Before you can finish, Naomi hurried to, quite uselessly, hide the watch behind her back.

“NOTHING!”

Another nervous laugh.

The beeping doesn’t cease.

You pinch the bridge of your nose with a mix of irritation and weariness at her shenanigans.

“Naomi. Whatever this is, make it stop.”

Reluctantly, Naomi brings the watch before her and pushes a button on the side of it. A flip screen deploys. Immediately, a male voice blasts from it. Its owner sounds riled.

“Naomi. I was expecting your report three hours ago. Explain yourself.”

His commanding and uncompromising tone immediately rubs you the wrong way.

“Oh, hi Miguel… I just… uh… I’m about to send it, I just ran into some… trouble…”

You post yourself at your niece’s side and get a peek of “Miguel”.

His striking red eyes are the first thing that catches your eye – you’ve never seen a hero with ones. Only villains. His face is broad, his features defined and his jaw unyielding. His thick, dark eyebrows are frown and his full lips aren’t smiling. Dark brown, pushed back hair that reaches the back of his neck frames a visage that must be pretty when not stuck in a perpetual expression of irritation.

Before he can formulate in response what obviously seems like criticism, you grab Naomi’s wrist, bring the watch closer to your face and articulate as clearly as possible :

“Consider this her official letter of resignation, dipshit.” You end the call.

Naomi instantly starts screaming in protest.

“Auntie! What the hell! Why did you do that!?”

“Is that fucker pressuring you? Who does he think he is, talking to you like that?”

“No! It’s not like that!” She sounds intent on defending that rude asshole. “He’s just… argh, I’m not supposed to tell others about the Spider Society!”

As soon as she finishes her sentence, she puts both hands on her mouth, as if it could stops her from blurting out more classified information.

“The Spider what?”

She shakes her head, mimicking the action of zipping her lips, and keeps a stubborn silence.

You roll your eyes at her childish antics and decides that enough is enough.

“I’m gonna get answers about this, whether you’re the one telling me them or not, are you aware of that?”

Silence. You put your hands on your hips and sighs.

“Whatever. I’m bringing you back home. And I’m telling your father about this.”

Suddenly her lips come undone.

“What! NO! Auntie, come on!”

You shake your head, implacable, and starts leaving, knowing she’ll end up following you anyway.

“This is not a negotiation, kid.”

“Nooo, you can’t do this to me! Please! He’ll ground me til adulthood! I’m begging yo-“

Naomi’s whining suddenly come to a halt as you start hearing some kind of… music? Coming from behind you.

*Spider-Man 2099’s theme starts playing*

[Insert "Why do I hear boss music?" meme.]

You turn around to see some kind of unstable orange-red hexagon floating over the ground and the man from the watch exit from it. You stay speechless, blinking in incomprehension.

“What the fuck.” You let slip under your breath. You’ve seen more strange phenomena than the ordinary mortal but this is something else entirely.

Unfortunately “Miguel” didn’t wait for you to come back to your senses and took advantage of your silence to start admonishing Naomi.

“Not only you let a civilian discover your identity but you showed them your watch? How much did you tell them?”

Miguel’s appearance seems to have turned your niece into a frightened mouse. She takes one step back for each he makes towards her, and you’ve never seen her so thoroughly shaken. Each words coming out of her mouth sounds like it’s tripping over her teeth to get out.

“I… I didn’t tell her anything… w-well I said the word Spider Society once but…”

Miguel grunts in frustration.

“ I knew it was a bad idea to take you in.”

You post yourself protectively in front of Naomi and are forced to note the size difference between him and you. He is massive. But you quickly pull yourself together – your strength always put you on top, even when your enemy had 30cm and 30kg on you. You narrow your eyes and throw a murderous glare at the man in costume.

“Leave her alone. She did nothing wrong.”

He immediately argues back.

“You-“

“I followed her here. There’s nothing she could have done to stop me.”

“Auntie has powers too”, pipes up Naomi behind you.

“Great, fantastic. Does that mean you’ll keep your mouth shut about this?”

You can feel your anger raising in your chest like a wave.

“There won’t be anything to shut my mouth about, because Naomi’s superhero’s business ends here and now.”

“But-“ starts Naomi.

“It’s out of question. This world needs a spiderman to protect it.” Announces Miguel like it’s law.

“Then find another spiderman!” you exclaim, exasperated.

“There is no other Spiderman.” He hisses back.

“Aren’t YOU a spiderman?” You gesticulate in direction of his suit.

He passes a hand over his face like explaining this to you is the bane of his existence.

“I’m the spiderman of Earth-928. There is no one else who can do this.”

“Tough luck.” You snap back. “My niece isn’t going anywhere.”

The tone between you two keeps raising, and soon you’re engaged in a shooting match.

“It’s not up to you. Her being spiderman is a canon event.”

You look at him like he’s insane – he must be.

“It’s a WHAT? No, wait, I don’t care. Deal with your own shit and leave my family out of it.”

You illustrate your words by shoving him hard in the chest, and he’s pushed back a few meters. His eyes flashes a bright, menacing red, and you swear he’s about to pounce on you when Naomi get between you two, arms outstretched in each of your directions.

“Don’t fight! We’re all on the same side!”

“He wants to use you!”/ “She can’t be reasoned with!” you both shout.

“The town needs me, insist Naomi in your direction.

You take your head between your hands.

“Can’t the town wait til your majority?”

But as the words leaves your lips, you already know how senseless they sound.

You sigh hard. Pinch the bridge of your nose. Knowing you are going to regret immensely what you’re about to suggest.

“What if I did it instead?”

“No.” reply instantly Miguel, a harsh expression on his face.

You roll your eyes. He could at least hear you out.

“Think about it for a second, smartass. I have had years to master my powers, contrary to a teenager. I have combat experience with both humans and supers. I’m a bodyguard. It’s literally in my job description to identify threats and neutralize them while protecting other people. I know how to work with a team and on my own. You won’t find a better recruit anywhere else.”

Never in your life you would have imagined presenting your resume to Spiderman, but looks like things are only gonna get crazier.

Miguel grunts, like agreeing with you was physically painful for him.

“Fine.”

“See, I knew we could come to a compromise!” Naomi beams. “Miguel is meaner than he looks, she adds to your intention. Well except for the time he threw a desk at me but-“

“He threw a WHAT at you?!” you scream in astonished rage. The fury who accumulated inside you all evening boils over.

“You fucking piece of shit!” You snarl at Miguel. He doesn’t have the time to react. You punch him in the jaw hard enough to send him flying through one, two, three buildings before you stop counting.

#miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara fic #across the spiderverse #spider man: across the spider verse #mine #rambling into the void #miguel ohara #miguel ohara fanfiction #miguel ohara x reader #spiderman 2099

141 notes · View notes