#“’FIRST YOU KIDNAP ME TO A ROOFTOP AND THEN YOU CALL ME SHORT’ | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rotworld · 3 months ago

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3: Long Goodbye

art by @exorbitantsqueakingnoises

your friend garrett went missing almost a year ago. when he mysteriously reappears asking to meet up again, you're expecting answers. what you get is much worse.

original work. suggestive but not explicit. contains non-consensual touching, blood drinking, emotional manipulation, hypnosis, gore, implied kidnapping.

You miss the first call.

The train home is crowded. It’s one of those dreary days where the rain feels like knives, falling cold and half-frozen in heavy sheets. Harrow Creek’s staggered silhouettes come and go like a mirage through the foggy haze, an anachronistic chimera of a city with thorns of Neo-Gothic rooftops and scalloped Art Deco skyscrapers, blunt and brutal modernism filling newer valleys of construction. Bright lights and billboards wink past the windows. On nights like this, you used to meet up with friends at an all-night cafe, commiserating over hot drinks and a shared plate of hot, buttery pastries.

It rings once. Twice. You don’t know the number on the screen so you slide it back into your pocket and watch the city pass by in gray-blue melancholy and golden smears of streetlamps. It buzzes, ignored. It goes to voicemail. Your stop is next. All you want to do is curl up in bed and not think about anything. Every signpost, stoplight and utility pole on the long uphill walk to your apartment building is papered with crumpled, peeling posters, faded and weather-beaten.

“MISSING” they say in bold above a smiling face. Short brown hair. Hazel eyes. A flash of checkered red and black at the bottom from his favorite scarf. “PLEASE CALL IF YOU HAVE INFORMATION.”

You miss the second call. You’re peeling off a soggy sweatshirt and kicking off waterlogged shoes. You need to eat something but you don’t feel hungry, just empty. On the news, they’re saying there’ll be rain tomorrow, too. You shove something in the microwave and watch it spin, checking your messages just for something to do. Someone asks about trading shifts. Someone asks if you’re doing alright. A chime, and then a new message pops up. Unknown number.

“its me,” it says.

Another chime and then another, and another, coming so quickly your phone can’t finish the notification sound before it interrupts itself with a new one.

“still alive.”

“srry.”

“plz pick up.”

“im in trouble.”

You’ve never hit the “call” button so fast.

He doesn’t answer right away and you pace, your heart racing, listening to the sluggish one-note ringing with growing panic. It’s him, isn’t it? It has to be. That’s how he texts, one rapidfire thought at a time. But what happened? Where is he? Why the new number? Is he with someone? Is he safe? He said he’s in trouble. Was that him before, those calls you didn’t answer? You’re starting to spiral when the ringing suddenly stops.

Silence. A shaky exhale through static. Someone starts to speak and then stops themselves. Takes a deep breath. Starts over. “H…hey. Hi. I’m…I wanted to talk to you.”

It’s him. You have to lean against the kitchen counter, your knees buckling. “Garrett?” you say, quiet, hoarse and hopeful. “You’re okay?”

“I’m okay.” He doesn’t sound okay. Garrett is the social butterfly of your friend group. He’s a smoothtalker, a good listener, the kind of guy everyone knows and likes and owes a beer. And he’s unflappable, too confident to lose his cool, too unbothered by insults to pick a fight. He’s a safe harbor in the insular cliques of Harrow Creek’s nightlife. He’s your best friend. You hear him sniff and clear his throat, a long pause before he tries again. “I’m okay. I’m sorry I didn’t…I couldn’t call before. They’re strict about…” He stops abruptly. Another inhale, pause, exhale. “Can we meet up?”

It’s eleven at night and you’re a cold, tired mess. “Yes,” you say without hesitation. You beg him not to hang up while you change out of your wet work clothes into something warmer and he sounds uneasy. He mutters something that comes through muffled, away from the receiver, and a different voice says something indistinct. “Should I bring someone? Harley’s probably still up.”

“No,” Garrett says quickly. “Just. Just you, please. You’re the only one I called. I can’t…I’m not even supposed to…”

“Just me,” you assure him. There are a million more things you want to ask but he talks to whoever’s with him again in that small, scared tone and you know you won’t get answers. “Where should I meet you?”

“Thank you.”

Those two words make your chest feel tight and aching. That’s the Garrett you know. The smile you can hear. The quiet relief. He’d sounded so begrudged and exasperated when you offered to bring him cough syrup and tissues that time he got sick, but he met you at the door with and promised to pay you back, looking at you like you’d hung the moon and stars in the sky. He always took care of everyone else. He wasn’t used to being taken care of.

“No problem,” you say, swiping a hand across your face.

“Have you heard of Betwixt? It’s a bar on the east side, right next to the movie theater and the Italian place.” Another pause. Another murmur from someone you don’t know. “I gotta go. I’ll meet you there in a bit. Just you, please. Don’t tell anyone. I’ll explain everything, but it has to be you.”

You throw your coat back on. Different shoes. Remember your umbrella this time. You take the stairs two at a time, throw yourself back into the cold and rush down the same street you just trudged up. East side, he said. Movie theater. Pizza place. You’re not over there much so you look it up online. A couple train stops later and you’re in an old part of town, the streets wide for trolleys that don’t run anymore. The buildings are red and brown brick, the rooftops prickly with chimneys and jagged spires, hunched gargoyles leering over the edge. The streetlights don’t seem as bright, all burnt orange and eerie.

The map on your phone says you’ve arrived as you stand in front of a stone archway with double doors set further inside. A vintage sign hangs overhead, painted wood dangling from a decorative metal pole. “Betwixt” is printed in curling, golden letters on a black background. From here, it looks more like a classy, upscale restaurant than a bar, candlelight glimmering on the other side of the glass. You push the door open. The heat is on inside.

Wooden floorboards creak under your footsteps. It’s dark. More than ambience, the candles are the only source of light. You can’t see much but you can hear lively conversation, the scrape of chairs and the clink of glasses. You glimpse an eclectic collection of framed photographs on the walls; portraits and landscapes, city vistas and mountaintop views. There are a few small tables scattered around and a row of booths against the wall, candlelight gleaming on leather upholstery. A couple in the back presses close in a booth, hands wandering. You hear a giggle as one of them caresses the other’s cheek. Traces their jaw. Runs one fingers down the side of their neck and whispers something that makes them shudder. Eyes glint in the dark like a wolf’s caught in headlights and you step back quickly.

“Excuse me,” someone mutters, touching your shoulder to guide you out of the way. But they stop suddenly, turning around to look at you.

Not Garrett. He’s too tall, shoulders too broad. Hands in the pockets of a leather jacket, he tilts his head and looks you up and down with obvious interest and a widening smile. You try to get past him and he steps in your way.

“Hey. You wearing red?” he asks, his tone flirtatious.

You stare at him, shaking your head slowly. You don’t know what he’s talking about but you don’t think it’s any of your business. “I’m meeting somebody here.” You take another step back, nervous. You see more animalistic eye shine, the glint of unwanted predatory attention. Your pulse quickens. You’re definitely not supposed to be here. Why didn’t Garrett warn you?

“Yeah? I can keep you company ‘till then.” The man takes a step closer. “Is this your first time? It’s alright. Don’t have to be nervous. You could practice with me, if you want. I’ll be gentle.”

You back into someone. A hand grips your shoulder, keeping you still. “This one’s mine,” you hear, the words low and angry. Your heart lurches in your chest. You know that voice. The man in front of you scowls, shrugs, and stalks off towards the bar in the back. You turn around and see what you stopped hoping you’d ever see again, lightheaded with overwhelming, conflicting emotions.

It’s him. You know it is. It doesn’t matter that half of his face is concealed, a mask over his nose and mouth. It’s stiff, not flimsy fabric but something firmer. Those are his eyes, wide and astonished with tears bubbling up along the lower lid. That’s his voice, slightly muffled, saying, “Sorry. Uh. Hope you weren’t waiting too long. You wanna sit down?”

You look around nervously. A few people are staring. You can tell because you can see their eyes, wolf-like and glinting in the dark. “Could we step outside? I don’t think this bar is for, uh…” You don’t finish the thought. It doesn’t matter if you whisper. They’ll all hear you.

“Humans?” Garrett says. Chuckling, like this is funny somehow. “No, it is. It’s for everyone. That’s why I picked it. So we could both…” You look at Garrett and he looks back at you, something desperate in his gaze. “Please don’t go,” he says, his voice quivering.

“I won’t,” you assure him. You don’t know what else to do, so you step forward to wrap your arms around him. Garrett nearly knocks you over when he hugs you back, surging forward, meeting you halfway and more. He squeezes so hard that it hurts but you don’t say anything because he’s shaking, breathing heavily against your shoulder. He buries his face against the side of your head, the thick material of his mask nudging against your nose and your jaw. He nuzzles into your neck. He growls. When you go rigid in his arms, he pulls away like you burned him, squeezing his eyes shut. His shoulders rise and fall as he takes deep, steadying breaths. In for five. Hold for five. Out for five. He does it over and over until the tremors stop.

“Okay,” he says finally, opening his eyes. “Okay. Sorry. I’ve got it under control, I promise.”

“We need to talk about this,” you tell him as gently as you can.

He looks at the floor guiltily. He nods.

Garrett leads you to a booth in the back. The chair that shares the same table is already occupied. A stranger sits there with a notebook open on the table, pen in hand, scribbling something. He doesn’t look up when Garrett slides into the booth across from him. He’s not dressed for the weather, just a thin tank top under a jacket falling halfway off his shoulders. He has long hair, bleach white, the ends dyed blue. Both arms are tattooed from the shoulders to the backs of his hands. You don’t sit down and Garrett looks nervously from you to the stranger and back again. He doesn’t look afraid of him, you think. More like he’s the only thing keeping him from falling apart.

“Virgilio,” the stranger introduces himself, still not looking at you. You can’t read the page in front of him but there are notes of some kind, something that looks like a list. He’s doodling in the margins. “Just supervising. Don’t mind me.” The other voice on the phone wasn’t clear enough to hear, but it sounded close to his. Deep and gravelly.

“I’ve been staying with him,” Garrett admits. His eyes are pleading. He scoots over further, leaving plenty of room for you in the booth next to him.

Reluctantly, you sit down. “You said you were in trouble.”

“I was. I still am, I guess. It’s complicated.” Garrett rests his hands on the table and they fidget restlessly. His fingers have been picked raw in places, pink underlayers of skin and newly-healed scabs surrounding his nails. You set your hand next to his, palm up, offering. Garrett grips it immediately. He laces your fingers together and holds on tight. “You remember I was going on that trip? Flying out to see Nate, hang out for the weekend?”

You nod. You remember. That’s the trip he didn’t come back from. Nobody’s heard from Nate since, either.

“That’s when it happened. We were going out for drinks. It was some place with live music and…” Garrett rubs his face. “I can’t. I can’t say it. Can you please…?”

Virgilio stops writing. He hooks his pen into the notebook’s spiral metal spine and actually looks at you for the first time, studying your face, glancing up and down. His stare makes you uncomfortable. It feels like he’s looking through you rather than at you. “What do you know about nightbound?” he asks.

You knew where this was going—knew the moment you saw reflective eyes staring back at you in the dark—but the word still makes your pulse pick up. “Not much,” you admit. That they exist and that it’s what they call themselves. You don’t know when or why ‘vampire’ became a dirty word.

Virgilio nods. He doesn’t look surprised. “Garrett is the victim of an unauthorized turning.” He speaks slowly and clearly, the words unauthorized turning enunciated so there’s no misunderstanding. “It was traditionalist dissenters. That means people who don’t respect Council authority, running their own compound in the middle of nowhere and grabbing whoever they wanted off the streets. It’s my understanding that Garrett was taken with four others from a music venue, but he’s the only survivor of his clutch. Two didn’t survive turning. They had the other…” He pauses, studying your horrified expression with a slight tilt of the head. The gesture strikes you as animalistic. Bird-like and curious. “Well, they were traditionalists. They only want one per clutch, and it’s up to the hatchlings to see who makes the cut.”

Garrett squeezes your hand. He avoids your eyes. “Right,” he says hoarsely.

“Why is he in trouble?” you ask. “It’s not his fault this happened to him. He shouldn’t be punished for it.”

Virgilio leans back, throwing one arm over the back of the chair. He regards you with renewed interest, his head tilting the other way now, frowning like you’re a puzzle he can’t quite solve. “He’s not in trouble for getting turned. The problem is his appetite. Traditionalists aren’t big on restraint. He’s been taught to gorge himself whenever he’s hungry, and we get a hunger response every time we catch a whiff of a human on the breeze.”

“I’m getting better,” Garrett insists. He sneaks a look at you out of the corner of his eye but quickly looks away as though ashamed.

Virgilio nods. “It’s true. He’s come a long way in just a few months. But that’s why he can’t call anyone. They’d want to see him to make sure he’s alright, he’d smell them, and it’d get messy. Well, that and the Council wants him to focus on acclimation. Hatchlings do better in the long run if they start over. Make new friends.”

“New friends?” you repeat, your voice thin. “So he’s just supposed to cut us off? Let us all think he’s dead?”

“No,” Garrett insists. “No, no, it’s not like that, it’s more like…like a precautionary—”

“Yes,” Virgilio says.

You look at Garrett, his shoulders drawn up, trying to disappear into his seat, and Virgilio staring at you both across the table. “But he called me,” you say.

“I let him call you,” Virgilio corrects.

“Why?”

“Well…” He drums his inked fingers on the table over his notebook, humming thoughtfully. “How do I put this…there’s an exception. He gets to keep someone from his old life under very specific extenuating circumstances. You happen to fit all the criteria.” Virgilio pauses. He looks at Garrett. Inclines his head towards you. “Go on,” he drawls.

“Right. So.” Garrett steadies himself with a breath. “Feeding is, uh…it’s. Really intense. And emotional. So if you’re going to do it, you know, not just from a bag but from a person, from…” He stops, stroking your thumb with his. “If you’re going to do it, it should be with someone you know and trust. Who trusts you, too. That’s how it’s supposed to be. And you’re…I mean, we weren’t…I never got to ask…”

“Garrett,” Virgilio says, sounding impatient.

Garrett tugs at your hand gently. He brings it up to his mask, pressing it against the inside of your wrist. “I want to feed on you,” he says. His voice is hoarse. His eyes half-lidded and nearly black, pupils fully dilated. “Please. Please let me feed on you.”

“You’d have to move in,” Virgilio adds, rubbing his chin. “It’s just standard procedure. I have Garrett feeding often, but on much smaller amounts. A sip here and there. And it’s not a bad gig, you know. The Council will do just about anything to keep you comfortable. You’d be doing us a favor, after all.”

They both stare at you expectantly and it makes you feel like cornered prey. Gently, trying not to upset him, you tug your hand out of Garrett’s grasp. “Can I have some time to think about it?” you say carefully. Garrett’s shoulders sag in disappointment. Virgilio frowns. “It’s just…it’s a lot. All of this. I want to help Garrett. I don’t want to lose him. But I have to figure some things out if I’m going to move.” You have to tell someone. Your friends. His family. The authorities. The nightbound must have their own government—that “Council” Virgilio keeps mentioning—but you don’t trust them. Nothing about this sits right with you.

“Sorry,” Garrett mumbles.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” you assure him, shifting away as discreetly as you can. “None of this is your fault, okay? We’ll figure this out, I promise.” Another small, subtle scoot back, but you don’t get far. Someone slipped into the booth behind you. Panicked, you turn around and find Virgilio sitting far too close, one of his hands seizing your arm and the other grabbing your jaw. When did he get up? You didn’t see or hear him move.

“I couldn’t do it,” Garrett says miserably.

“I didn’t expect you to.” Virgilio grabs your chin between his thumb and fingers, tilting your face higher to meet his cold gaze. His eyes are gold. Bright and glittering, speckled with flecks of amber and paler yellow. Your struggles to get away from him are hampered by his eyes and just how pretty they are. How nice they are to look at. How easy it is to lose yourself in them. Like autumn leaves. Like honey. Warm. Gentle. Comforting. Gold.

You feel so tired. What were you doing earlier? And why?

“It takes practice,” Virgilio says. “You probably wouldn’t be able to maintain it very well. It’s another thing we can work on later.” He sounds faraway. Echoing. He never looks away. He doesn’t even blink. Your eyelids flutter but they don’t shut completely. You don’t want to lose sight of him. “Don’t feel bad. You tried asking. If they want to be mad at someone, they can be mad at the Council. Here, hold onto them. It’s fine. They’re under.”

Virgilio pushes on your shoulder, urging you to lie back. You’re in Garrett’s arms now, leaning against his chest. It feels nice to be here. Nice to be between the two of them. You look up at Garrett and his eyes are pretty, too.

“You can take the outer layer off,” Virgilio says. “Just the outer layer.”

Garrett nods feverishly. He pinches the edge of his mask and something shifts. There’s a shrill, sticky sound like velcro. The mask comes apart, a thick panel of leather peeling off. Garret sets it on the table and you see him better now, nose and lips and the way he’s panting, but there’s still something on his face. Dark lines. Bars. Metal? The frame of the mask is still hooked over his ears.

It looks like a muzzle.

“Take a breath,” Virgilio reminds him.

Garrett listens. You see his lips part. A tongue, darting out to moisten them. A flash of fangs. He holds you close as he tugs your jacket down, pulls the neckline of your shirt to the side, and leans in. The muzzle digs into your neck. You hear Garrett suck in a deep breath. He shivers. His breath comes in hot, humid puffs against your skin. Saliva drips through the muzzle, his tongue desperately pressed against the metal trying to reach you.

“Garrett.”

“I know. I know.” He pulls himself away like it physically pains him to do so, groaning, biting his lip. “Fuck, I can’t…I need them so bad.”

“Look at me. You’re doing fine. I’ll stop you if I have to, but I wouldn’t have brought you here if I didn’t think you were ready. I’m going to unlock your muzzle.”

You feel your stomach twist. A twinge of fear sours that sweet, floaty feeling making everything soft and nice. Something’s wrong here, isn’t it? Something is very wrong. You were trying to leave. Why were you trying to leave? You hear a chair scrape the floor. Footsteps. It’s all muffled and dreamlike, impossible to focus on. Your head lolls back and you’re staring at the ceiling. Where are you? Smells like beer. Like blood. There’s a loud metallic clatter and then a hand against your neck. Shaky fingers. A loving caress.

“Just like we practiced,” Virgilio whispers. The hand on your shoulder tightens. A warm, wet mouth presses against the side of your neck and you remember suddenly, the realization like ice water down your back. It’s too late. You see Virgilio looming over both of you, standing beside the booth. He tilts his head. Smirks at you. Garrett bites down.

You’ve never felt pain quite like this. There’s the sharpness, daggerpoints sinking into your skin hard and deep enough that blood gushes out of the wounds, and a spreading heat like your veins are igniting. It’s not a nice, neat incision, not just two little pinpricks. His jaw clamps shut and all of his teeth are crunching through flesh and delicate soft tissue. There’s the arrhythmic agony of Garrett’s tongue pressing at the wound in short kitten licks and the greediness of his mouth, harsh suction that pulls and drags at delicate things under your skin. Garrett moans against your skin and you scream when he pulls and tugs and finally wrenches his teeth out of you, only to drag them teasingly against a new, unmarked spot slightly lower.

You beg him to stop. You plead and you cry and you try to make him look at you. You regret it when he finally does. Garrett looks like a wolf that just dragged its snout out of a dead deer’s belly. Your blood is smeared all over his mouth and dribbling down his chin. Panting open-mouthed, you see it staining his teeth. He swipes his hand across his face, making his fingers red and wet. He licks them, one at a time. He moans at the taste, drool escaping the corner of his mouth.

“I’d let him give it another try, if I were you,” Virgilio says. “No venom in the first bite. If you don’t want to feel that in the morning, you’ll need a dose.”

You don’t answer. You can’t. It hurts whenever you breathe, or swallow, or your heart beats. You feel like you’ve been chewed up and spat back out, your neck raw and prickling. Garrett’s eyes are drawn to the slow ooze of blood from the bite he left behind and you see the moment he realizes what he’s done, how badly he’s hurt you. Eyes wide, swallowing hard, he tries to say something but never does. He looks at Virgilio but the other man looks at you, waiting for an answer.

You tremble, your hands clutching fistfuls of Garrett’s sweater. Shaking and reluctant, you touch Garrett’s face, resting your palm against his cheek. His eyes shut and he lets out a pleased sigh, turning to kiss your wrist. You flinch in anticipating terror when he licks and nips at your skin, but he doesn’t bite. Something about the gesture, the reverence he shows your wrist and your hammering pulse beneath the skin, feels important. Maybe it means something special to the nightbound. Maybe he’s trying to tell you something.

“Make it stop hurting,” you beg him.

Garrett kisses your wrist again. He holds it against his cheek, eyes closed in bliss. Carefully, he moves you. Rests you against his other shoulder. He exposes the untouched side of your neck and you can’t stop the helpless, frightened tears that prick the corners of your eyes, expecting even more agony. He kisses the spot first. A chaste peck first, then longer, with tongue. You feel his fangs first, sharp as thorns. A dull pressure. A sharp pain.

And then, without warning, there’s ecstasy.

It starts in your neck. Everything he touches, everything his teeth rip and shred and tenderize, feels electric. The blood dripping down your shoulder feels like a caress. His hands are on your hips and he’s moving, rocking against you, gasping and breathless as he grinds the hardness in his jeans against your ass. Every sensation is razor-sharp and amplified. Everything that used to hurt is heavenly now. Garrett’s teeth come out of your neck with a wet, sucking sound and then he’s licking you, making love to the wound with his tongue, whispering sweet nothings and promises of always, forever, no matter what it takes.

“I’m sorry,” he tells you. “I shouldn’t have lied. But you’re glad, too, right? This isn’t goodbye after all.”

You’ll be mad at him later, probably. You’ll scream and you’ll cry and you’ll find a door you can lock, anything to put some distance between the two of you. But it feels good now. Everything is perfect sweetness and heady delight. You curl into Garrett’s chest and he holds you, not like the way he used to but in a new, more desperate way, like you might disappear if he lets go. Virgilio says something about a mending poultice. Stopping the bleeding. Getting you settled at home. You don’t care. But even now, in this warmth and haze, part of you understands that nothing is ever going to be the same again.

#rotpeach writes #goretober #original

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daizedndconfused · 1 month ago

Text

linked

characters - cole x reader

type - fluff??

warning - kidnapping and mild violence

synopsis - your father is one of the wealthiest men in the city, however the countless ceremonies in his name get quite boring. your decision to sneak away for a few moments may not have been the best, but don’t worry the earth ninja is close behind.

a/n - lowkey might do a part 2 cause this was kinda long and i wrote it at like 1 am BUT I PERSONALLY LOVE HOW IT TURNED OUT. and if you’re a fan of rio and dance of thieves THIS IS FOR YOU!! yw ;)

“There you have it ladies and gentlemen, I’d call the grand opening of Axis Point an unqualified success.” The bubbly reported chirped from the stage below.

It wasn’t like you weren’t proud of your dad, of course you were, but the sun beating down on you wasn’t making the two hour all outdoor ceremony any more bearable. Letting out an internal groan, you tipped your head back taking a deep breath.

A blur of black had you hesitating. Your father, the wealthy innovative man he is, required nothing but the best security, hence the ninja tiptoeing around the surrounding rooftops.

This wasn’t the first time they’d been at one of your fathers events–hell you’d even met them. Briefly, but it happened all the same. Brief enough to know you had a small crush on the Earth Ninja. You may have gotten carried away with the staring, but he wasn’t all innocent either.

By the time speeches had been over and done with, your evening was only halfway over by the time the banquet started. People watching only kept you entertained for a short period of time. Ninja-watching was slightly better. It was sort of mesmerizing how they hopped from building to building with ease.

You drew the line when the sun finally went down and the city lights came up. Rolling your shoulders, you thought a little walk never hurt anyone. Right?

You slipped between drunk people stumbling and others who decided they were too good for the dance floor. Eventually you made it to a clearing.

Fresh air at last, you thought.

Though the ‘fresh air’ in this case being an alleyway. It didn’t matter, anywhere was better than that boring party. Maybe you should have told someone where you were going–especially considering the events that followed.

The last thing you remembered was reaching to pull out your phone from the side of your mini purse. You barely had time to register the arms around your torso, and across your mouth with a cloth before your vision went dark.

However, when you finally regained consciousness, you weren’t alone. It took a while for the spinning in your head to stop and your vision to clear. Shaking your head and rubbing your eyes, you noticed the alert form of the Earth Ninja sitting across from you in what looked like the back of a cramped van. Your only source of light being extremely tinted windows above you.

“What–?” Your voice came out hoarse and scratchy.

The ninja’s eyes snapped to yours, his hood abandoned, sporting a split lip and bleeding temple. Immediately his expression softened, “Are you hurt?”

You pondered for a moment, other than the numb and overall drowsiness you were still experiencing there were no other casualties.

“No,” you shook your head. “No, I’m okay.” You felt a little exposed in the simple party dress you wore, and attempted to fold your feet below the fabric, when the clanking of a chain caught your attention.

There, clamped on your ankle was a mid length chain. On the other end was the leg of the Earth Ninja. You had been attached at the foot.

He must have noticed the fear in your eyes after seeing the chain, the gravity of your situation weighing down on you.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” you groaned, hiding your face in your hands. All you wanted was a breather–you didn’t expect to get kidnapped.

Calloused hands wrapped gently around your wrists, pulling your hands down from your face. The Earth Ninja’s reassuring hazel eyes found yours.

“Trust me, nothing will happen to you while I’m here,” he said. “They might have thought they were being smart when they chained us together, but they’ll have to pry me off you if they even raise a hand to you. Okay?”

The breath caught in your chest at his words. There were worse people to be chained together with than a ninja. At least he’d go down fighting for you rather than throwing you to the wolves to save his own hide.

“Okay.” You smoothed your hair down in an attempt to calm yourself. “Did…Did you see what they looked like? Or hear why they took me?”

He looked towards the closed doors of the van before answering. “Masked. But the two drivers aren’t the only ones we have to worry about. There’s a car in front and a car in back following us.” His eyes found mine again. “Didn’t hear the reason behind taking you. If I had to guess it’d be ransom.”

Ransom. Made sense. Your father was one of the wealthiest men in Ninjago afterall. But you thought if criminals were going to go after someone it would be the man himself, not his insignificant daughter.

“How’d they get you?” You asked meekly, still hesitant to look at him. You couldn’t help but feel a bit responsible for his presence here with you.

“Got me in the air,” he rolled his eyes with an annoyed look. “Saw you sneak off and thought it was best someone followed you. Found three guys on the roof beside you–got a bit banged up getting rid of them. But by that point someone had already grabbed you. I ran off the edge of the building.” He scoffed, probably at his own stupidity. “Can’t do much in the air can I? I rely on the ground. Anyway, a sniper on the other roof shot me with a tranquilizer and woke up chained with vengestone next to you.”

You frowned. If only you had stayed within the safety of the park.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, drawing your knees to your chest, careful to keep the fabric covering you.

“Hey,” he said softly, “don’t worry about it. I’m just glad I’m with you. That way I can get us out of here, right?”

“I guess,” you shrugged. Even though you were with a ninja you were both clearly outnumbered. It was a group of guys against a powerless ninja chained to a girl who hasn’t thrown a punch a day in her life.

“What, you don’t trust me?” He joked, nudging your foot with his own.

“I do,” you argued, chewing your lip as another thought crossed your own. “How long were we out?”

The Earth Ninja frowned, “That I’m not sure. I guess we’ll find out when we stop.”

“Wait, we’re going to just let them take us to some random location?”

“That's all we can do at the moment,” he reasoned. “Chain won’t budge and we don’t have the key. Plus, jumping out of a moving vehicle on its own is difficult, but chained to someone? No question.”

That much was true. Even if he could somehow bust the door open and make a run for it, you’d only slow him down. That and the extra people surrounding you all in cars, they’d have you back as quickly as you got out.

You nodded, and the two of you spent the next what seemed like hours trying to keep calm. Well, more the Earth Ninja keeping you calm. You two talked quietly, and he even managed to get a few laughs out of you before the van came to a slowing stop.

Waiting a couple seconds, it felt like you were stopped for good. Footsteps thumped all around you and suddenly the doors to the van flew open.

The darkness didn’t allow you to see the guns pointed at you, but you did hear the barking orders to stand and get out of the van.

You heard the chain scuffle as the Earth Ninja rose to full height, just barely avoiding hitting his head on the ceiling of the van. He offered his hand to you, and you took it. The ninja pulled you to your feet as if you weighed nothing.

“Move!” One of the masked men demanded again.

The Earth Ninja clenched his jaw and muttered something under his breath before stepping toward the exit first. Being the gentleman he was, he snaked his arm around your waist and lifted you down in time with him.

As soon as your feet touched ground that wasn’t made of concrete, you knew you were in deeper trouble than you realized. All around you, instead of buildings, or even run down warehouses, were trees. Through the darkness you could see thousands of massive green trees surrounding your every direction.

One of the men jabbed at the Earth Ninja’s shoulder with the barrel of his gun, urging the two of you to start walking. You clung closer to the ninja as the two of you awkwardly maneuvered your way across the dirt path.

Walking while attached to something was harder than you originally thought, but you eventually got into a steady rhythm allowing for smoother movements.

After a small hike, you saw a run down warehouse in the distance on top of a hill. You were all sorts of uncomfortable–the dress you wore was not designed for comfort, nor hiking–and your shoes, while only a mini heel, were also not made for uneven surfaces.

The only bearable thing you had going was the weather. Not too hot but not too cold either.

As you drew closer to the base of the hill, your heel got caught in a jumble of weeds, causing you to stumble and almost fall over.

The ninja caught your arm quickly.

“Limp,” he said quietly.

Confusion adorned your face for a split second, but you quickly understood.

You winced, attempting to rise to full height. And when you tried to step forward you crumbled again into the ninja’s arms.

“What happened?” One of the guards demanded.

“Sprained her ankle,” the ninja said. “I can fix it.” His eyes darted around, waiting for our captors to object, but when none did he slowly sunk to the ground.

He reached for his arm, as though he were about to rip off the sleeve, but he reached quickly into a separate part of his gi. Just as quickly, he flicked his wrist, and smoke filled your vision.

Angry shouts erupted all around you, but you barely heard them as the Earth Ninja lifted you into his arms and took off running.

It took a while for you to clear the smoke, but once you did, he said, “We need to put as much distance between us and them as we can. If you take your shoes off can you run?”

“Yes,” you nodded. Fighting? Not so much, but running? Running was fair game. You leaned forward to undo the clasps of your shoes, holding them in one hand before the Earth Ninja set you down gently and the two of you quickly started running again.

The adrenaline rushing through your veins blocked out all the twigs and sharp burrs you were stepping on, but it beat running in heels. Hiking up the skirt of your dress, you calculated when to step so you’d be in time with the Earth Ninja.

You didn’t stop running until you came to a clearing beside a riverbank.

“We need to find a way to get this chain off,” the Earth Ninja said, though he was hardly out of breath.

You, on the other hand, were both sweating and gasping for air. Bracing both hands on your knees, you nodded, but without the key there was a slim chance of that happening.

“In the meantime, we’ll cross this river,” he told you. “It should slow down their cars if anything.”

“How do we know how deep it is?” You asked nervously. Due to the darkness, you couldn’t make head nor tail on the depth of the river beside you.

“We don’t,” he admitted. “You should go first. I’m taller–the more you start to sink the easier it’ll be for me to grab you. Think you can do it?”

It scared you–the idea of walking into water that could force you under in an instant, but it seemed to be a better fate than what the people who kidnapped you had in store.

Reluctantly you nodded, clutching your shoes tighter to your chest you walked into the frigid water, the Earth Ninja hot on your heels.

The current of the river rushed past your ankles, then your calves, thighs, stomach, and soon you were up to your chest struggling to stay upright. When your chin was about to go under, the Earth Ninja suddenly grabbed you.

“Wrap your legs around my waist,” he told you.

He didn’t need to tell you twice. Teeth chattering, you clung to the Earth Ninja like your life depended it on it–it kind of did.

The water soon became too deep for the ninja to stand, but he swam as though the current were only a flurry of butterflies against him.

Soon, the water became shallower and shallower, but you didn’t let go of him. At least not until his body was completely out of the water.

Shivering from head to toe, you touched down tentatively.

“Th-thank you,” you said through clattering teeth.

The Earth Ninja frowned at your condition, throwing a large arm around your shoulders and pulling you against his body to provide some extra body heat.

“Just a little further, then we’ll stop for the night.” He murmured as he started walking forwards once more.

You nodded, attempting to make yourself smaller to generate more body heat.

When the rushing of the water was long behind you, the Earth Ninja finally stopped.

“We’re gonna need to gather some wood for a fire,” he said, breath hot in your ear. “Up for it?”

“Yeah, I can do that.”

Once the two of you had a stable fire going, you spent the next few hours getting dry and warm. Furthermore, you didn’t argue when the ninja pulled you between his legs so you could rest against his chest.

Your eyelids grew heavier and heavier until you slumped back against the hard chest behind you.

Bright light, chirping birds, and someone’s arms around you were the first three things you noticed when you had started to wake.

Slowly blinking your eyes open, the sight of the forest surrounding you reminded you of the previous day's events. Internally groaning, you leaned your head back, slightly surprised that you hit something.

Soft exhales ruffled your still slightly damp hair, and you saw the arms around you belonged to the Earth Ninja.

Your heart hammered in your ribcage as you admired his sleeping figure. Damp black hair plastered across his forehead, and slightly flushed cheeks. When his eyelids started to flutter, you averted your eyes.

“Mornin’,” he groaned.

“Morning Mr. Earth Ninja,” you said, slithering out of his hold.

“Ugh, call me Cole,” he laughed. “Mr. Earth Ninja makes me sound old.”

“Okay. Cole.”

Cole smiled as he sat up and shook his hair off his head.

“Any ideas on how to get this thing off?” Cole asked, lifting the chain slightly.

Well it was too tight to slip off and you didn’t have to keys to unlock it. But, really the only issue with this thing was its material. If only it weren’t made of vengestone…

Then it hit you.

“I’ve got one,” you said skeptically.

“Yeah?” Cole cocked his head. “I’m all ears.”

“If I could isolate the vengestone, you’d be able to use your super strength to break it right?” You asked.

“I mean I think so,” he scratched the back of his head.

Nodding, you stood, Cole standing with you. The fire that you had lit last night was slowly dying out, but there were still a few embers you could use. Grabbing a less charred piece of wood, you blew on it softly to reignite the flame.

“Don’t move,” you told him before you began heating up the metal.

It took a while, but eventually you made progress. After a few moments, you determined it was hot enough.

Walking over to the nearest tree, you picked off a leaf, swiped some sap from the bark and lathered it across the chain.

“Okay hurry, it won’t last long.”

Cole didn’t need to be told twice. He physically felt his power returning as you applied the sap. He quickly snapped the chain off his ankle, rubbing the spot tenderly before he moved onto you.

He frowned at the rest mark across your skin, and the poor condition your feet were in after running barefoot across the forest floor.

“How did you do that?” He asked.

You nodded towards the tree. “We got lucky. That’s a Verona tree. Looks ordinary, but it’s got properties that cancel out vengestone when mixed with heat.”

Cole had never heard that before, and he voiced as much with pure admiration.

“We learned about it in organic chemistry,” you shrugged.

After the two of you had been freed, Cole didn’t waste any time before summoning his dragon and flying the two of you the hell out of there.

As the city became visible once more, you saw that your face had been plastered on many billboards.

‘Billionaire Heiress Missing?!’

You were too exhausted and sore to care about much at this point.

When Cole touched down in front of your house, he still didn’t leave your side. He didn’t let you walk either. You weren’t complaining, your feet were immensely scratched up.

The inside of your house was a shitshow. Cops everywhere, your mother crying into a handkerchief, and your father pacing furiously across the dining room.

Your father saw you first.

Cole barely had enough time to set you down before he rushed towards you, wrapping you in a bone crushing hug. Your mother followed soon after, her tears never ceased.

“It’s okay, I’m fine,” you tried to reassure them.

“Thank God you’re safe!” Your mother said before she caught sight of Cole. It didn’t take her long to tackle him into a hug, spewing thanks for saving her daughter.

Cole remained strictly professional as your father also expressed his gratitude.

You shot him a tired smile after answering the million questions your mother asked him. Which you both then had to repeat for the police.

By the time your testimony had been taken, the sun was just past its highest point in the sky.

Before he left, your father pulled Cole aside. Wrapped up in a blanket nursing a cup of tea in front of the fire, the two stole quick glances at you, but you couldn’t make out what they were saying.

Once their conversation wrapped up, your father walked over to your spot on the couch. He took a seat beside you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

“I’m glad you’re safe,” he said, squeezing you briefly.

“Yeah, me too,” you admitted.

He was quiet for a moment, and then, “I spoke to the Earth Ninja. He agreed to be your personal security for all further public events.”

Your father’s words took a few moments to sink in. Once they did, you whipped your head to face him.

“I’d feel safer if someone like him was tailing you closely, that way he can keep you safe.” Your father reasoned. “Is that alright?”

You nodded meekly. “That’s fine.”

It didn’t really matter if it was, it would still be happening. You knew your father. However, it wasn’t the worst thing in the world. You liked Cole, and it looked like the two of you would be spending a lot of time together in the future.

#ninja x reader #ninjago #ninjago x reader #cole brookstone x reader #ninjago cole #reader x character #reader insert #fluff #oneshot #heiress reader #lego ninjago #happy ending #cole x reader #earth ninja

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redrobbingabank · 2 years ago

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Spider-Bats

So awhile ago, I started writing a Bats in the Spiderverse au, but I didn't finish it because I don't finish half of what I start. Since the new Spiderverse movie came out, though, I thought it'd be fun to post the beginnings I had done. This is literally all I had from the doc lol, it's below the cut. CW's for violence and death.

Here ya go

(pls excuse the shitty format I don't write screenplay format often)

(BRUCE voiceover)

Alright, let’s do this one more time.

My name is Bruce Wayne. Long story short, I was bitten by a radioactive spider. And for the past twenty three years, I have been the one and only Spider-Man. You know the rest. I saved the city––

(BRUCE delivering a knockout blow to the JOKER)

––Fell in love–– (BRUCE and SELINA kissing in on a rooftop)

––Saved the city a few more times––

(Montage. BRUCE defeating BANE; BRUCE, in a gas mask, arresting SCARECROW; BRUCE in the middle of an overgrown laboratory, negotiating with POISON IVY)

I save the city a lot. But the most important thing about me is that no matter what happens,

(BRUCE on the ground, back broken. BANE stands over him)

I always get back up.

(While BANE’S back is turned, BRUCE pushes himself up on his elbows)

I will always keep fighting.

(BRUCE, bloody and beaten, facing off against an army of Talons)

Because that’s what I do. I’m Spider-Man. I’m a symbol of hope in Gotham. And as long as I’m around, there will be hope in Gotham’s people, too.

(Cut scene, no audible dialogue. In the Batcave(Spider-cave? Whatever I’m calling it the Batcave), BRUCE stands against RA’S AL GHUL. He’s heavily injured, clearly dying. RA’S delivers some clever, triumphant line. In response, BRUCE slams his hand down on a button to the left of the computer’s console. A self-destruct protocol is activated, and the cave comes down, killing them both.)

(DICK voiceover)

Alright. Let’s do this one last time.

My name’s Dick Grayson. When I was eight years old, my parents were murdered. When I was fourteen, I was bitten by a radioactive spider. And for the past ten years, I have been the one and only Spider-Man. You know the rest. I fell in love––

(DICK and WALLY doing the Upside Down Kiss™)

Saved the city––

(DICK defeating BLOCKBUSTER)

Did that a lot, actually.

(DICK exchanging blows with DEATHSTROKE, disarming FEEDBACK, arresting TORQUE)

Pretty cool, huh? I mean, it was, at first. Then things started going a bit downhill. I lost my brother––

(DICK, kneeling in the ruins of a warehouse, holding the beaten corpse of fifteen-year-old JASON TODD)

Lost my fiance––

(DICK and WALLY reaching for each other. WALLY is screaming as a storm of lightning consumes him. He disappears before DICK reaches him, and he drops to his knees, alone in the middle of a scorched house)

Lost a lot of people, actually. But that’s not important! What is important is that I always get up. No matter what gets thrown at me, no matter how hard I’m hit, I will always get up. That’s a promise.

(DICK, in a funeral suit, kneeling in front of a grave. The headstone is engraved: Wallace West. The on-screen DICK speaks, syncing with the voiceover)

I will not break that promise.

So that’s life! I get hurt, I keep going.

(Shots of DICK getting progressively angrier. He leaves villains behind bloody and unconscious, blood on his knuckles. In a rundown apartment, he puts his fist through a wall, tears running down his face.)

I do what I have to to keep people safe, regardless of the pain. Because I’m Spider-Man, and that’s my job.

(JASON voiceover)

Okay, let’s be real. This is probably not the last time.

My name is Jason Todd. I was kidnapped and almost killed by a psychotic serial murderer when I was fifteen. The reason I wasn’t was because of a radioactive spider that bit me on my way out. And for the past seven years, I have been the ‘one and only’ Red Spider. My methods are a little different than the other guys.

(JASON, standing over the body of BLACK MASK. He holds a handgun in each hand. One is still smoking, aimed at BLACK MASK’S head)

What can I say? It gets the job done. So yeah. I’ve saved the city.

(JASON holding a disassembled bomb, bodies littering the ground around him)

I’ve pissed people off.

(JASON, swinging away, flipping off BRUCE, who’s also in a Spider-man suit––this one is made by science. He didn’t get bitten in this universe––. JIM GORDON watches from his car, looking like he doesn’t get paid enough for this shit.)

I almost fell in love. But it didn’t work out.

(JASON and ROY together in a bar, smiling over drinks. It’s their first date. Cut to JASON finding ROY’s body in an alley, where he was killed trying to stop a mugging.)

I haven’t tried again since that. But it doesn’t matter, because I’m a fucking Spider. You lose people. It happens. So as long as I’m alive, I’m going to keep fighting, and I’m going to keep winning. That’s my job. I’ve been taking a new angle recently––

(Shot of JASON at the UTRH meeting with the bosses. No audible dialogue, but he throws The Duffel Bag down to them. Clearly, it goes in his favor. Cut to JASON counting money, dropping it off anonymously at schools/hospitals/libraries. Cut to JASON, in an office, giving orders to the bosses.)

––It’s working out pretty well. So, that’s me. I’m the Red fucking Spider, and as long as I’m around, I’m going to help. There’s nothing else to do.

#batman #jason todd #dick grayson #bruce wayne #batfam fic #batfam #spiderverse #spiderverse x batman #fanfiction

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taiblogcomics · 8 months ago

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Time to Start the Countdown!

Hey there, crafting in a fugue state. Well, while it's not quite blogaversary time, I think it's closer today than it will be next week. So it's the blogaversary! We're on… lucky thirteen, isn't it? Oh boy, that's a sign if ever I saw one. And moreover, we've had it good for a while, no? And we've had it too good too long. Three miniseries (well, two miniseries and a cancelled series) in a row that I actually liked. And when did we last do something truly awful? Avengers Arena last summer? Well, if that's the case, I propose we cover a truly heinous series. And one that won't leave us wondering what to do for a while~

Here's the cover:

Oh yes, my dear readers. We're going to review fucking Countdown.

"But Tai!" you might say, "this series is from 2007! Hasn't it been done to death?" Well, first of all, age has not improved this story. It is still terrible 17 years later. Second, perhaps some other reviewers may have covered it. Maybe some more popular than me (but not more popular than the BeeGees). But I wanna do it in a different way! And by which I mean, I want to review it like I review everything I do: one issue at a time. This comic was released weekly, after all. So I wanna replicate the experience of what it must've been like to read it week by week! Now that's how you get in all the suckiness!

As for the cover itself… Well, it's a fucking image of a bunch of popular heroes (and Jason Todd) running at the camera on a white background. Whoop-de-doo. I will give the series credit for one thing right off the bat, though: the numbering. We're starting on issue 51 and counting down to 0. Because it's called Countdown. That's at least some thematic gimmickery that I can appreciate. It won't help the overall score in the end, but it's at least something~

So, where do we start with this pile? Well, you're familiar with Infinite Crisis, 52, Identity Crisis, and Batman: Under the Red Hood, right? That's basically where you need to be in DC history to have a basic understanding for this series. That's the mark of a great series, eh? In short: Ray Palmer has disappeared following the insanity of his wife, Jason Todd is back from the dead, the Multiverse and the Monitors who watch over them have returned, and Superboy-Prime will be our villain. You got all that?

We open on the hellish and goofily-spelled planet Apokalips, where sadist torturer Desaad is waxing poetic about the lack of value of a single life. Ah, setting the mood and tone for the readers right away. Even Darkseid tells Desaad he's a depressing nihilist. Darkseid is busy organising his pretty sweet collection of DC Comics character statues. He must've been a big fan of Kenner's Super Powers line back in the day. He does concede one point to Desaad: he's right in that all lives, no matter how meager, touch another. That's downright positive for Darkseid!

As he moves a figure of Duela Dent, we transition over to that character on Earth. Thankfully, this is not the Duela we know from the New 52, but her much better and more interesting and likeable counterpart in the Post-Crisis universe, where she was an on-again-off-again member of the Teen Titans. At this point, it's "off again". She's dancing at a club, and then decides to kidnap and ransom the pop star hosting the event. As she tries to escape on a parachute, she's shot down by Jason Todd, who catches the pop star in midair.

Duela and Jason exchange some banter, mostly where it's reiterated that Duela isn't literally the Joker's daughter, and she retorts that he's not Batman's son either. Jason prioritises getting the girl to safety, which is probably the most heroic thing he'll do this entire maxi-series. Duela makes an escape, but is shot down again--by someone we can't see right now. She's pursued, and as she runs over the rooftops, she crosses a hospital, which transitions us over to our next character. I'll be fair, this transition is pretty good. If they continue to be non-jarring, I will award another point at the end of this review~

So Mary Batson (AKA Mary Marvel, so we can just call her Mary either way) has just recovered from her coma. During Day of Vengeance, the wizard Shazam was killed, severing Mary's connection to her powers. She also went into a coma, as you may have heard. She's fine now, and even has no hospital bills to look forward to, as they've all been paid off by Freddy Freeman (AKA Captain Marvel Jr). But Freddy's not here, and all he's left her is a note that says "Don't look for me". So she opts to walk home in the rain.

Also out in the rain is James Jesse, AKA the Trickster, one of Flash's Rogues. The Rogues are having a party, and Trickster's gotten here early, to Heat Wave's annoyance. Heat Wave's annoyed in general, since Trickster went straight for a few years, willing to help the Flash out on occasion. He hates the idea of how blurred the line has become for the Rogues, and is planning something big to get them back on track. Trickster assures him he's got his head on straight now. Also listening in is the Pied Piper, another Rogue who sat on the blurry line like Trickster, wondering if he's horning in on his turf. No rat metaphor he can use her?

As the rain comes down, Duela Dent continues her rooftop run, unloading whatever tricks she's got up her sleeve at her pursuer. You know, silly string taser, that sort of thing. (Where does she get those wonderful toys?) But her pursuer just shrugs it off, and she screams as he begins to shoot at her. Jason hears the scream, heading back to see what's going on. He tells the hulking figure that he doesn't tolerate gun-wielding crazies in his town. Well, of course not, that's your gimmick, isn't it, Jason~?

Jason attacks the guy, and we get a good look at him at last. Jason has no idea who it is, but the reader does (or should, at least is the hope). It's… the Monitor! The big good of Crisis on Infinite Earths, back again! And he's hunting Duelas! He claims to be the multiverse's only hope and that anomalies must be purged. To that end, he shoots Duela dead with his laser gun. Jason is enraged and punches the Monitor, who aims his weapon at him next. The only thing that keeps him from shooting Jason Todd as well is the sudden arrival of… a second Monitor??

So yeah! This was a reveal at the end of a one-shot called DC: Brave New World, which showed some upcoming premises for a few heroes' solo series, and then finished with a shot of the Monitors promising to, well, monitor these events. The end of much-better weekly comic 52 (this comic's direct predecessor) saw the restoration of the DC Multiverse into the cosmology it would use from here on out (even into the New 52 and beyond). Not an infinite multiverse, just 52 parallel Earths (including the main one), and a Monitor stationed to watch each one.

That's where we are. This second Monitor (who is subtly different to the Duela-shooter) stops the first from shooting Jason as well, saying he's acting outside his jurisdiction. The first claims his job is to eradicate anomalies and dimension-jumpers. The second says he'll report him to the rest of their brethren, and the first is sure the others will support him. Both teleport out, but not before the second one does offer an apology to Jason for Duela's death. However, since he doesn't offer the same to the reader, I am not inclined to forgive him.

And so our comic closes out with another Monitor flying out into space. I can't tell for sure, but I'm assuming it's the second one, since he has the same blue bodysuit. (The first one wore red.) He's out at the Source Wall, which is a literal wall at the edge of DC's universe. It's a Jack Kirby thing, don't question it. He asks the Source Wall why there is tension among his fellow Monitors. Great flaming letters reply "GREAT DISASTER". He asks what can possibly stop this Great Disaster? And the flaming letters reply: "RAY PALMER". Which I'm sure means a lot to this multi-dimensional space being.

Well, there we are. Off to a smashing start, huh? Usually you have to wait 'til the middle or end of the sucky event for the unnecessary deaths, but this one shows you what you're in for right away by fridging Duela Dent in its opening issue. And while this series will eventually reveal her backstory (a long-confusing thing for her character), she'll still be dead by the end of it, so it's not like the reveal will benefit her. And once again, we're murdering a former Teen Titans member to do it! Hey, DC: stop treating the Titans as your C-list fodder! Didn't you already get enough of this during Infinite Crisis two years ago (at the time of this issue's publication)??

The rest of the issue is... not much better. The reveal of multiple Monitors is pretty shocking, but not to a character who has no idea what that implies. The brief scenes with Mary Marvel and Trickster are at least setting up something, but their scenes are so short that it can barely do more than hint. Get used to that being a recurring theme throughout this series! And worst of all? This isn't even half our focus characters. By the end of this, there will be no less than eight storylines jockeying for control of the narrative, and they won't overlap until late in the game.

I can't wait to show you how bad this is going to get~

#comics #reviews #Countdown to Final Crisis #Countdown #Taiblog

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pianocat939 · 2 years ago

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Hey uh snow owl anon here....I got a hcs request! Uh how about...yandere princess cookie x shy gardener reader? Like they are the one who takes care of the flowers around the castle? Just curious what a yandere princess cookie would be like!

Also wanna say...I read your lychee fic and I really liked it! I personally think you wrote them very well! Don't underestimate yourself! You're doing great! Also when I request stuff...I'll try to ask for more hcs than fics...I didn't know you preferred hcs over fics...I'm sorry! Well I hope you have a wonderful day! Lots of hugs if you like hugs!

I’m happy you like the Lychee fic but I want to cringe when I read it haha.

Don’t apologize for requesting a fic. I just prefer them so my organization is better and so it’s clearer to read. I try to keep my hcs kinda like a Fic but also not. It’s basically formed like an outline of a fic.

When a Flower Wilts

Tw: Kidnapping/trapping, Somewhat force-feeding, This is short

• The sweet berry juice of love and the sturdy shield of the Mother Queen; all famous aspects of the Hollyberry Kingdom.

• Upon this grand kingdom is the royal family’s Princess. An adorable but adventurous cookie ready to protect her fellow cookies at any cost.

• It was a warm and buzzing day in the kingdom; a perfect environment to just spend time in the kingdom.

• Princess cookie wandered around the gardens, Knight cookie following closely behind.

• “Is it just me or are the flowers looking extra colorful today?”

• “Well they do look lively.”

• The duo commented on the flowers, unaware of the cookie deep inside the plants and bushes.

• “Those are the best one of this field.”

• A cookie raised their head out from the greenery, causing Knight cookie to yelp in surprise.

• “Augh! A criminal?!”

• “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you!”

• The cookie buries themselves inside the plants once more, causing Princess cookie to lightly slap Knight cookie.

• “Don’t just call a random cookie a criminal!”

• “Apologies, Princess. It’s an instinct of mine.”

• “Hello? I’m sorry that my companion assumed you were a criminal! It was an accident!”

• Nothing answered Princess cookie’s call, only the distant chirps of the birds.

• Princess cookie huffs and sits down on a nearby bench, wanting to rest and enjoy the warm breeze.

• “Tomorrow.”

——————————————————

• The next day was gloomy, a light rain dribbling onto the rooftops of the usually bustling kingdom.

• In the royal garden, a cookie was enveloped by a thick cloak, shielding them from the rain.

• Their hands held some scissors and a small basket, snipping off brown-colored buds.

• Behind them, Princess cookie stood. Holding an umbrella with curiosity beaming from her eyes.

• “Hello, your majesty. What brings you here on this stormy day?”

• “I am here to enjoy your work. Even in such weather your flowers bloom brightly.”

• Y/n cookie smiled and showed the containments of the basket.

• “I make sure to snip off the dead ones, they take away the beauty of the rest.”

• “Oh I see! Well, it is raining quite harshly now. I should be getting back.”

• Princess cookie waved them goodbye, devising a dark plan in the meanwhile.

——————————————————

• Y/n cookie opened their eyes, groggy from their sleep. They look around, only to realize that they aren’t in their home.

• “H-hello? Does anybody know where or why I’m here?”

• “In our cabin silly.”

• Princess cookie entered the room, holding a tray of food. The cabin floors creaked as she approached.

• “Princess cookie?! What are yo- mph!”

• A spoon was forcefully shoved into their mouth, the hot broth almost burning their mouth.

• “Now now, I know you’re confused but first you need to eat. You’ve been asleep for a while now.”

• Before they could retort another spoonful invaded.

• “I brought you here so I could keep you from the other cookies. I didn’t want them to see your charm, only I can. I preferred to keep you in the royal chateau but since I’m not the Queen yet I couldn’t.”

• A bun was fed next.

“But, when I do become Queen you’re going to move in with me and rule the Hollyberry Kingdom. Of course, I won’t let you out for public events.”

• A few berries on a skewer stuffed your mouth.

• “You even said it yourself; ‘I make sure to snip off the dead ones, they take away the beauty of the rest’.

• You shouldn’t have cut off those wilted flowers, then maybe you would still have friends and family…

——————————————————

I’m still recovering from my horrible travel so apologies if this is kinda sucky. At least I got it done haha.

(Thanks for waiting)

- Celina

#cookie run #yandere cookie run #cookie run kingdom #yandere #yandere x reader #Princess cookie

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smileyoongle · 4 years ago

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Falling for a lounge singer (Yandere!Mafia! BTS)// Kim Seokjin

Requested anonymously.

Summary: Working as a part time singer, you never thought you'd find yourself becoming the centre of attention of a man's life, especially one who you can't run from.

Word Count: 2K

You bowed before the audience at your workplace, an empty smile tugging at your lips as you finally walked down the stage and made your way to the bar. This was the third consecutive day in a week where your boss had made you work overtime without paying you for it. You knew that as a singer who performed in a small but reputable lounge bar, you weren’t worth that much. In fact, the reality was that you could be replaced at any given time, the city not having any less talented singers than you and that made you insecure about your job all the time. But either way, you were just stuck here, trying to push your way through every single day just to clear all your debts.

Life was unfair. It had always been.

Sitting down on a bar stool, you leaned across the counter and rested your elbows on it, the cold surface feeling good against the warmth of your skin. The speakers in the lounge were now playing the latest radio hits, the beats making your head hurt as you were handed a glass of water by the bartender who looked at you with a pitiful smile. Thanking him, you sipped on the water before your manager made his way to you and placed a champagne coloured envelope before you. Frowning in confusion, you gave him a questioning look which he returned with a nervous but angry expression.

“Someone left a tip for you,” he sneered, clearly not liking the fact that you had received money which wasn’t given by him. An asshole is what he was, his intentions of seeing you worried sick becoming more and more obvious with every passing night.

Pursing your lips, you unsealed the envelope only to find a lot of money, money that was probably worth your salary of six months. Your eyes widened in surprise, lips parting as you tried to make sense of why someone would tip you off with so much cash. You weren't even that good and you could never be that good.

“Who?” you asked, following your manager’s gaze to the exit where a bunch of men were making their way out. Almost immediately, you were on your feet with the envelope tightly clutched between your fingers. You needed to know who this man was that was so generous to you. Needed to know what about you was worth so much.

Holding your dress with one hand, you made your way towards the exit, eyes worriedly fixated on the doorway which was now empty. The bouncers nodded at you in acknowledgement while you forced a smile upon your lips and exited the bar, a part of you thinking that he must have left. But just as you came in contact with the cold night outside, your eyes took in the sight of an expensive car with a man dressed in an equally expensive suit surrounded by, you were guessing, his bodyguards. You couldn’t see his face yet, only his back being your line of sight but judging by everything, he certainly was someone in power. But if that was the case, what was he doing in a place so...average?

Deciding to end your curiosity, you called out to him, not knowing that this man was going to turn your life around completely. In a good way or bad? That was for you to choose.

“Excuse me, Si-”

Right then, your heel decided to give away, your ankle twisting painfully before you tripped...except you didn’t. Instead, you felt two hands taking a hold of your waist to steady you, your hands immediately latching onto their shoulder in return. And that’s when you finally saw him.

Kim Seokjin.

The man who was known to be running the biggest drug cartel around the country.

Your breath hitched as your eyes widened in recognition, a shiver running down your spine upon the realisation that he was here and he was holding you. Your fingers involuntarily tightened around his bicep, his eyes intently taking in your face as if you were his prey and he, your predator.

“Are you hurt, sweetheart?” he asked, snapping you out of your daze. Swallowing thickly, you shook your head, too afraid to even move because what could you even do? If you had known that Kim Seokjin was the one who had tipped you off, you would have probably just handed the money to your manager without confronting him. But here you were, stuck in a situation that you didn’t know how to get out of.

Your ears perked up at the sound of a car door opening, your eyes darting towards the black vehicle that now mocked at you with its open door. Jin swiftly picked you up without a word, a small yelp escaping your lips as you stared at him with fear and panic.

Were you being kidnapped?

Before you could think any further, you were placed onto a cool leather seat, your legs dangling to the side where the door proceeded to stay open. You watched Jin kneel down before you, his hands gently taking off your heel to inspect your ankle as a frown made its way to your forehead. The sudden act of kindness was making you very confused and you didn’t know what to do about it.

Maybe he just treated people nicely before he got rid of them?

A sudden pressure to your ankle had you whimpering and pulling your foot away, your teary eyes meeting Jin’s as he looked up at you with a soft gaze only to have his heart ache upon seeing you in so much distress.

In all honesty, this wasn’t the first time Jin was seeing you and the fact that he had tipped you a fortune was no coincidence either. He had walked into this bar for a deal about a month ago when he saw you, your voice being the first thing that captivated him. You looked absolutely stunning in a satin dress with your lips stained red, your smile taking his breath away even though it was just for show. Ever since that night, he just knew he had to see you and know you even if it meant coming to this place.

When you went to the rooftop to cry your heart out, he was right there in the shadows, wondering just what he could do to take your worries away. When you were being yelled at by your landlord, he was right there holding himself back from ruining that man's life. In short, every single time you thought you were alone, you weren't. Jin was always there, slowly figuring out where he was going to fit himself in your life. This tip that he had given you was guaranteed to solve your problems but along with that, it also made sure that you would want to see him. And that's all he really needed.

“You’re hurt, sweetheart. I don’t think you can walk-”

“Are you going to kill me?” Jin frowned upon hearing your question, feeling a little hurt that the girl he was so insane about, thought that he'd lay a hand on her, let alone kill her. But he had only himself to blame for having an image that was tainted with the blood of many, innocents and devils alike.

"Why would you think that, Y/N?" He asked, placing his hand on the empty space beside you. Your lips trembled as you struggled to answer, your eyes taking in the number of guards around you two. As if reading your mind, Jin quickly dismissed them, your shoulders slightly relaxing as you watched them walk away to where you couldn't see them. Feeling a little hopeful, you wiped away a tear that fell down your cheek and held your head up.

"I know who you are and what you do," you answered, biting your lip as you watched a wave of disappointment wash over him. Jin had been left speechless and he knew that, his jaw clenching and unclenching out of habit. Rubbing the bridge of his nose, he sighed, his hand gently taking yours into his as you tensed in your seat.

"I need you to listen to me carefully, sweetheart," he stated, drawing your attention to him and him only.

"I have been watching you for a while now," he confessed with apology filled eyes looking right into yours, "and hurting you, is the last thing I want."

Those words had you feeling breathless, too many emotions bubbling up your throat and making you wanna throw up. You had been the subject of a very dangerous man for quite some time and you had no idea. On top of it all, he said he didn't want to hurt you and you found yourself believing him. Maybe it was the way his eyes held so much adoration for you or the way he held onto you like you were a fragile little doll, you didn't know.

"Wh-what do you want then?"

"To love you," he answered without any hesitation, his hand coming up to brush away your hair from your cheek. His touch was warm, almost comforting, something you hadn't had in a very long time. Having been so lonely all this time, the idea of being cared for and loved seemed too tempting to let go. And knowing just how powerful Kim Seokjin was, it was very obvious that no one would ever dream of hurting you, be it mentally or physically.

But, were you really willing to choose comfort over the fact that he was a murderer?

"M-Mr. Kim, you don't even know me. I'm a normal girl who has a simple life and being roped into yours is the last thing I need."

You stated, noticing the way his eyes held a hint of sadness that seemed to be barely there. Swallowing thickly, you stood up with a pained expression, quickly taking your heels in your hand as you glanced at Jin one last time. This was the right decision, in your mind. Because there was nothing worse than having to live with a man, knowing he was cold and brutal. It was almost as if you'd be his partner in crime, something you just couldn't digest.

Limping towards the bar, you sighed in relief as a sudden silence surrounded you. Jin hadn't said a word to your rejection, making you think that he had understood what you were trying to say. The chilly air felt comforting now, your breath coming to you in waves of warmth. But before you could open the door to the bar, you heard a light click behind you.

Frowning, you turned around, your eyes growing wide upon coming face to face with the muzzle of a gun. Seokjin stood holding it firmly, his eyes red and angry. Your lips began to quiver immediately, your ears taking in the sound of his guards gathering around you.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart, did it sound like you had a choice?" He sneered, stepping forward and pressing the muzzle against your forehead. You slowly shook your head, a full stream of tears falling down your cheeks as you dropped your heels and joined your hands together.

"Please don't hurt me. I'm sorry I didn't-"

"Shh sweetheart, shh," he whispered, sliding the gun down your cheek and pressing it against your jaw. You could feel his arm holding your waist firmly, a scared whimper making its way out of your lips.

"You have no idea just how crazy you've been driving me, Y/N. Ever since I've seen you, I haven't stopped thinking about you," he mumbled, staring into your eyes so intensely that if not for the present situation, you would've deemed it romantic.

"Every second I've been thinking of things I'd like to do to you. And I can't have you take that away from me now, can I?" You closed your eyes, your body shaking as you sobbed at his words. The proximity was starting to suffocate you, your hands desperately trying to push Jin away from you but he was too strong.

"Let me go, Jin. Please let me go," you begged, your eyes drooping shut as you grew tired, your head falling against his chest. His hand came up to the back of your head, caressing your hair as he pulled you flush against him.

"Not any time soon, sweetheart," he replied, suddenly pulling back and gesturing the guards to the car. Large hands came to grip your arms, a scream sounding through the night as you were pushed inside the car you were seated in before. Your palms pressed against the leather, the door closing shut behind you as you sat up and banged your fists against the window. Spotting Jin outside, you cried louder, hoping he'd take pity on you. Instead he leaned down to where your palms rested on the window, placing his exactly against yours.

"I promise you'll be happy, sweetheart. I promise."

A/N: Guess who's back! That's right! Me! A dumb bitch! Anyway, I'm so sorry for not posting for like more than a year but for some reason, my brain went on a break and it just didn't wanna come back. So much has happened in the time I was away and I wanna give y'all so many deets like, boy trouble- check, best friend turning out to be a bitch trouble- check, getting two surgeries within a span of two months- check. In short, my life is a mess and I'm loving it.

Also, this turned out really long for like all the members, which is why I'm gonna post them separately. I hope I give you guys the same vibes from my writing as before. Or I'd die from shame. Okay I'm off now! Tell me if you liked it.

#bts imagines #bts jin #kim seokjin #bts yandere #yandere jin #yandere mafia bts #mafia leader Jin #bts reactions #smileyoongle #yandere!mafia!jin × reader #requested #i don't even remember the tags i used to use #kill me pls #mafia bts imagines #yandere bts imagines #yandere bts reaction #bts

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sooibian · 3 years ago

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So Let's Runaway - Costa Brava

Prologue >> Costa Brava >> Seville >> Cuéllar

Pairing: Kyungsoo x Fem!Reader ft. bff!Chanyeol

Genre/Themes: Fluff, angst, humour, travel AU, road trip through Spain, travel buddies Chansoo

Warnings: Grief, loss, heartache, toxic relationships, mildly explicit language

Description: A bachelors trip turns into a soul-searching journey when an unlikely group of three travels through the scenic landscapes of Spain. Their experiences present them with opportunities to mend bridges, face their fears and fall back in love with the true essence of life.

Word Count: ~ 5.3k

A/N: this story is a part of @supermwritersnet ‘Around the world in 31 days’ event. event masterlist.

Tag list: @sooadorable @rosetvler @changshapatrol @his-mochi-cheeks @is-that-baekhyuns-shirt @j-pping @kysoobydoobydoo @exoxobsession @camillapad @reekyungsoo let me know if you’d like to be (un)tagged.

@smolgirlbigthoughts thank you so much for the description!!! ;~~~~~;

After having stayed the night (or whatever was left of it after a red-eye flight) in an Airbnb in Barcelona, the three of you hired a Lyft to Europcar to pick up the SUV that Chanyeol had pre-booked for the Costa Brava - Seville - Cuéllar itinerary. What you’d gathered from your several conversations with Chanyeol after that serendipitous coffee date was that each of the three friends had handpicked an adventure sport to try out in these places.

Chanyeol had chosen scuba diving in the rugged coast of Costa Brava with its spectacular cliffs and countless coves. Kyungsoo had appositely picked out an adventure sport involving throwing oneself out of an airplane thousands of feet above ground a.k.a. skydiving in Seville, the capital of Andalusia, resting, wise and old, upon the Guadalquivir river. And Yixing, bless his heart, had wanted to take part in a bull run in Cuéllar that takes place on the last Sunday of August each year.

Twirling the car key on his finger, Chanyeol, dressed in baggy black shorts, a loose fitting purple tee, super dark oversized shades and a snapback cap worn backwards, strongly resembled that ‘smiling face with the sunglasses’ emoji as he walked out of the booking office with Kyungsoo following closely behind. All set to catch a few winks in the rear seat comfort of the SUV, you pulled down the brim of your sunhat but suddenly, a blur of turquoise swooped past you, capturing your attention. Your drowsy eyes wrestled the summer sun to land upon a gorgeous turquoise Buick convertible swerving around the parking area before coming to a fashionable halt. A portly, bespectacled man stepped out of the vehicle and deposited its key with the booking office.

This was it.

This was the car ideal for a road trip, not some mafia boss’ kidnapping vehicle.

The essence of time dawned upon you so you trotted to where the Buick was parked and went down on your knees, hands folded in an implicit plea. The two men, startled at first, were quick to realize what was up.

Kyungsoo fixed you with a judgemental gaze that wasn’t any different from a mother’s fed-up of her child’s tantrums while Chanyeol broke into an uncontrollable fit of laughter. Shoulders hunched under the weight of his tan leather backpack, Kyungsoo crammed his hands into the pockets of his khaki pants and sighed, “The SUV’s more practical.”

With a twinkle in your eye, you exclaimed, “Screw practical! Just look at it! It’s a convertible and we’re on a road trip!”

Grinning from ear to ear, Chanyeol advanced towards you gingerly. “Shifu, my love-”

Jutting out your lower lip, you crossed your arms over your chest and whined, “Don’t call me that after you’ve ditched me for Miss Perfect Hair!” causing Kyungsoo to roll his eyes which distracted you from Chanyeol’s stealth attack.

All of a sudden, the beanpole leapt at you, maneuvered you like he would a balloon sculpture, tucked his arms under your knees, picked you up and shoved you in the backseat of the dreary black vehicle with sun shades on windows darker than Kyungsoo’s soul. With Chanyeol’s finger pressing down on the ridge between your eyebrows, you laid down on your back, sulking, “Some road trip this is. Can I atleast drive?”

Before slamming the car door shut, he teased, “Take a nap.”

And...you tried.

Forty five minutes into the drive, you tried so hard to make up for the red-eye flight but Kyungsoo’s phone Just. Wouldn’t. Stop. Ringing. To make matters worse, he sounded like a broken record parroting the words ‘margin call’, ‘shorting’, ‘S’, ‘B’, ‘stop loss’ over and over again. The same damn thing, every single time.

“Enough Kyungsoo! We’re on a vacation, dude,” Chanyeol chided, the almost indiscernible crack in his voice indicative of his annoyance.

Leaning back into his seat, Kyungsoo bragged, “The last thirty seconds earned me enough commission to be able to buy at least five bags of the kind I bought Aera yesterday.”

“Now, why would you buy Aera a bag?” Chanyeol asked, a hint of suspicion evident in his tone. The sounds of their voices had been mercilessly thwarting your attempts at a peaceful slumber but, this was different. The lack of response from Kyungsoo seemed to have piqued your interest. Your eyes fluttered open to a one eighty shift in Chanyeol’s mood. Brows knit together, his fingers impatiently drummed on the steering wheel as you both waited for Kyungsoo’s answer with a bated breath. But in his stead, it was his stupid phone that broke the silence.

Wide eyes fixated on the screen, Kyungsoo suddenly cried out, “Stop the car!”.

“What?!”

“Stop the car, Chanyeol!”

Letting out an exasperated groan, Chanyeol rashly veered the car to the right before hitting the brakes, causing you to nearly roll off your seat. Kyungsoo darted out of the vehicle and the next thing you knew, he stood facing the hood of the vehicle, his laptop perched atop the bonnet and his life support cellphone clutched in one hand.

Bowing to the screen, he greeted, “Moshi Moshi!”

“Is he taking a work call right now?” you mused.

Chanyeol snorted, “That’s Doh Kyungsoo for you.”

Chuckling softly, you squished your face against the back of Chanyeol’s seat and groused, “Well, along with loony, your friend seems to be fluent in Japanese.”

“Yah! Cut him some slack. He’s had a rough couple of weeks,” explained Chanyeol, wrestling with a bag of chips in his hands.

“Yeollie -”

It was on the tip of your tongue.

You wanted to tell Chanyeol about your encounter with Kyungsoo on the rooftop but there was no way you could explain your own presence in the first place. To make matters worse, you were the worst liar you knew. So, you decided it was a story that best remained untold for your own sake, your mother’s and inadvertently, Kyungsoo’s.

“Yeah?”

“Can I have a chip?” you asked instead.

“All yours!”

“I’ll have just one, thanks.”

“You alright, Shifu?” Chanyeol slurred around a mouthful of chips, “Is there anything you need?”

“A nap would be nice,” you jested while nibbling at the edges of the deep fried snack.

“Aww, sleepyhead, we’ll be there in an hour.”

Humming in agreement, you reached for another chip and cooed, “Are you alright, Yeol? What’s with the whole ‘bag for Aera’ situation?”

Chanyeol’s head spun around to give you a warm, dimpled smile. “Don’t worry. It’s not what you’re thinking.”

You couldn’t help but notice how he had wolfed down an entire packet of chips in a matter of minutes along with a can of some neon and black fizzy drink. A distant memory of Chanyeol guzzling an entire bottle of water in three seconds for shits and giggles back in Uni stretched your lips in a wistful smile.

By then, Kyungsoo was done with his twenty minute long call against the quaint cerulean and stone backdrop of fishing villages by the coast. Who needs a virtual background when you’re surrounded by coves of deep blue sea and beaches of golden sand? As he reached for the car door, you whispered in Chanyeol’s ear, “One more call and I’m chucking his phone out the window.”

Grinning mischievously as he fastened his seatbelt, Chanyeol sang, “Oh, Shifu, I’ve missed youuuu!”

The moment Kyungsoo stepped inside, a tangible gloom proliferated in the enclosed space. Chanyeol started the car and you quietly curled up in the backseat. Kyungsoo’s head spun around, round eyes blazing with conviction. Pointing towards the trunk, he said, “Do you see that cloth bag on top of Chanyeol’s trolley?”

“This one?” you asked, hoisting yourself up on one elbow, your arm carelessly flapping all over the luggage before landing on said cloth bag with a dull thump.

“Hand it over, please,” winced Kyungsoo, “Be gentle, it’s a gift.”

Passing him his precious ‘gift’, you let out an annoyed huff and laid down again, facing the backrest. But curiosity got the better of you. You immediately turned back around to see what this ‘gift’ looked like.

Kyungsoo loosened the strings of the canvas tote to reveal a black Birkin Cargo. Soft and lightweight, it was supposed to be Hermès first off-road bag. Your droopy eyes flew open in awe of its high-brow craftsmanship and it was certainly a thoughtful gift for a bride-to-be. If this gift was meant for you, you were sure to forgive any and all of his crimes but the bag didn’t seem to have the same kind of effect on Chanyeol.

The air was still thick with tension.

Gaze fixed on Chanyeol’s profile, Kyungsoo murmured, “I didn’t want to do this now.”

Eyes on the road, “Spill,” grunted Chanyeol, as if expecting the obvious.

“This is an ‘I’m sorry’ gift for Aera,” started Kyungsoo before lowering his voice to a whisper, “I picked it up from duty free last night...it’s fifteen times Yixing’s annual agricultural income.”

Chanyeol clicked his tongue in disapproval at Kyungsoo’s snide remark.

“What do you want to apologize to her for?” he then asked with a deep sigh.

“I- I can’t make it to the wedding,” said Kyungsoo, faltering in his otherwise steadfast speech.

“Why?” quizzed Chanyeol in a terrifyingly cool tone while anger started to rise within you. Why he allowed this midget to walk all over him was beyond you. Didn’t he have better friends?

“I pushed back an important appointment for this trip. It was either Spain or the wedding. And since you insisted on Spain...”

Furious, Chanyeol struck the steering wheel with his palm. With the rattle of the metal strap of his Rolex reverberating in the car, he bellowed, “The actual fuck, Doh Kyungsoo?!”

“What?! I said I’m sorry!”

“No, you didn’t! Besides, ‘sorry’ doesn’t fix anything! You’re supposed to be my best man - are- are you listening to yourself right now?!”

Chewing on the insides of his cheeks, Kyungsoo patiently waited for his friend to simmer down. After a pregnant pause, Chanyeol resumed reasoning with him, his tone evidently milder this time, “Okay, okay, talk to me. Does this appointment have to be on the exact same day as the ceremony?”

“No, it doesn’t and...it isn’t,” Kyungsoo explained before hurriedly requesting, “Can we do this later?”

Chanyeol took a sharp right turn along the tapering road and brought the car to a screeching halt. Brows furrowed, lips quirked in an angry smirk, he looked Kyungsoo straight in the eyes and you felt as if the air conditioner had suddenly started meting out the chilliest of blows.

“No, I want to talk about it right now! So, tell me. What’s more important than your best friend’s wedding?”

Kyungsoo took off his glasses, threw his head back and pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “Chanyeol, please -”

“No, I need to know!”

“Then remember it was you who wanted to have this conversation on the first day of our trip,” he stated curtly.

“Enough with the drama Kyungsoo!” Chanyeol’s roar rang through the car.

“FINE!” Kyungsoo grumbled, “I got a job offer from the London office and...I accepted. I leave a week after we’re back in Seoul….since it’s a new position I cannot fly back for the wedding. And I would’ve...I- I was going to fly back for the wedding had it not been for this trip.”

“So you decided to leave. Forever. Just like that. Without even talking to me about it first.” Chanyeol thought out loud, his tone tellingly casual.

Looking out the window, Kyungsoo whispered audibly, “There’s nothing left for me in Seoul.”

Without another word, Chanyeol started the car.

Putting his glasses back on, Kyungsoo threw his hands up and argued, “So you’re not going to say anything?!”

Chanyeol cranked up the volume on the car’s stereo in response, leaving Kyungsoo tongue-tied.

***

Ten minutes into the drive, Kyungsoo’s phone blew up for, conservatively, the fifteenth time. But before he could even swipe to answer, Chanyeol lowered the car window, plucked his phone out of his hand and chucked it into the shrubbery by the roadside and continued to drive at an accelerated speed.

Kyungsoo’s mouth fell open but no words came out and unbeknownst to you, you were mirroring the dazed look on his face.

Chanyeol stuck his thumb out to where you were seated and justified indifferently, “It was her idea.”

It wasn’t a house. It was a warzone.

The spacious three bedroom apartment had invisible borders drawn out and nobody dared to encroach upon the other’s territory.

After arriving in Costa Brava, the three of you settled in and freshened up before heading out for a scheduled theoretical lesson on scuba diving conducted by your PADI certified instructor. The lesson had ended sometime around sunset and through the entire thing, you acted like complete strangers, making it more awkward than necessary for the twenty something instructor.

After the lesson, Kyungsoo offered to drive the trio to a boutique hotel, Hostal Sa Rascassa’s restaurant, which was supposed to be located on the edges of a tranquil, secluded cove and served traditional sea-food centric dishes like -

“- grilled sardines, cod fishcakes and octopus stewed with onion and pepper,” Kyungsoo counted on his fingers, making your stomach growl and your mouth water.

Chanyeol brushed him aside with a bitter, “I’m not hungry.”

Turning to you, Kyungsoo asked politely, “Wanna come?”

From the corner of your eye, you noticed Chanyeol shooting you a death glare so you decided to wriggle out of the situation by citing tiredness.

Kyungsoo lifted his shoulders in a dismissive shrug and took off in a taxi, leaving the car to the two of you.

“Where do you wanna eat?” Chanyeol asked as you got into the passenger’s seat.

Slack jawed, you chastised a giggling Chanyeol, “Yeollie, you’re absolutely horrible!”

It had been months.

Months since Natasha had walked out of their shared apartment.

And ever since then, every night, the moment Kyungsoo’s head would hit the pillow, a sense of hopelessness would erupt right in the middle of his chest. Spreading its wings far and wide, this despair would engulf him entirely and render him sleepless.

Nothing he tried helped his disposition so he’d started working on accepting this feeling as an inextricable part of his being. Something he’d have to learn to live with for the rest of his life.

Overcome by exhaustion, Kyungsoo drifted off only to be jolted awake by a jarring memory.

Hands balled into fists, Natasha yelled, ‘HOW COULD YOU DO THIS?’

‘This is a once in a lifetime opportunity, Natasha! This deal could help us!’ Kyungsoo thundered in the face of her dogged determination to not let this slide.

‘Can’t you see that I don’t care?’ She met his bloodshot eyes with tears welling in hers.

Brows knit together, Kyungsoo ruminated on his thoughts before firing back, ‘Are you saying that you don’t care about my life?’

Exasperated, Natasha ran a hand through her hair to ground herself and argued, ‘Stop it, Kyungsoo! Don’t confuse your work with your life! Your work isn’t your life. It’s just a part of it. WHAT ABOUT US?’

‘Us?’ Kyungsoo deliberated, ‘I bought this apartment so that we could live together.’

Natasha retracted with every step Kyungsoo took towards her, expression coloured in unpleasant shades of anger and disgust. Letting out a mirthless laugh, she taunted, ‘Oh, please! You bought this apartment to impress people with your upmarket address.’

Aghast, Kyungsoo sank into the couch, his mind flitting between despair and hope. Head in his hands, breathing jagged and raspy, he reasoned, ‘I can’t believe you’re saying this to me! I’m planning a future with you.’

‘The future is yet to come, Kyungsoo. WHAT ABOUT OUR PRESENT?’

‘STOP YELLING!’

‘THEN LISTEN TO ME!’

Hands on his knees, Kyungsoo’s gaze shot up to rest upon Natasha’s flushed face. ‘What do you want?’ He demanded in a terrifyingly low tone.

A silent tear slid down her cheek as she explained with a quiver in her voice, ‘I want your time, Kyungsoo. I want a relationship not a retirement plan.’

Helpless, Kyungsoo toyed with the words in his mind before blurting, ‘If the chairman of Nakamura Corporation wants to meet me then I have- to- go! If he likes the presentation, he’ll give us the entire account. Don’t you see how big this is for me?’

‘But what about us, Kyungsoo? What about our dinner plan?’

‘We can postpone it to next month, can’t we?!’

‘It’s my birthday, Soo. I can’t postpone my birthday. You’d promised me this dinner...no matter what! You cancelled the reservation without even asking me first.’

Cupping her face in his hands, he pressed his lips to hers and whispered, ‘Baby, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry...but I have to go.’

When you padded into the living room, sleep befuddled at 5 a.m., you caught Chanyeol and Kyungsoo locked in an embrace, both of their eyes squeezed shut, as if wordlessly conveying an incredible degree of warmth and affection towards each other.

All of it….in “bro code”.

You imagined the conversation in your head, in two deep, distinct male voices:

‘I’m sorry I threw your phone out the window, bro!’

‘It’s what I deserved, bro!’

Rubbing away the drowsiness from your eyes, you tiptoed back into your room so as to not disrupt this….whatever this was supposed to be.

***

Underneath the purple-pink skies, enveloped in the cool early morning breeze, Kyungsoo, Chanyeol, and you, dressed in spandex scuba suits, huddled together in solidarity on the boat’s bulwark.

The diving site that Chanyeol had picked was called ‘Boreas Wreck’. The Boreas was a high sea tugboat that served for the German Navy during World War II. It was deliberately sunk in 1989 for the purpose of creating an artificial reef and thus, a scuba diving attraction.

“Any non-swimmers?” the trainer asked and Kyungsoo’s hand shot up in the air.

Her full lips curled up in a dazzling smile. “You’re brave,” she remarked and you heard Kyungsoo swallow hard, inviting a snigger from Chanyeol.

Hands on hips, her perfect figure accentuated by the spandex, she instructed, “You will be diving deep into this sea now, do you remember the theoretical part I taught you on the shore?”

Chanyeol and you were confident (and loud) in your affirmation.

Kyungsoo, not so much.

With the bulky dive equipment on, the instructor created a circle with her thumb and forefinger, gesturing, “All okay?”

The three of you responded by following suit.

First dive, twelve metres depth.

You’d become the proverbial fish out of water except you were not the fish and you were under water and your whole world had been turned upside down….quite literally.

You spun around to find the instructor assisting Chanyeol with his breathing rhythm and Kyungsoo curled up like a shrimp, hugging his knees. Arm extended, he gave you a “thumbs up” which meant an entirely different thing under water from what it did on land.

Thumbs up, in diving lingo, spelled trouble. It meant that, for whatever reason, the diver wished to ascend. But, by then, you’d known Kyungsoo long enough to understand that there was no real cause for concern.

The look in his eyes told you that he was simply struggling to adapt.

You swam towards him, with your legs and not your arms, in order to maintain good buoyancy control. Clasping your hands together in a mitten grasp, you signalled him to hold onto you. Kyungsoo created a circle with his thumb and forefinger to signal “okay” before putting his hand on your forearm, the soft ripples caused by his gentle movements gleaming in the artificial light from your gear.

You then raised your other arm and flattened your hand, palm down, to “pat” the water in front of you as you would the head of a dog. Wearing a comforting eye smile, you essentially asked Kyungsoo to take it easy and relax. You then levelled your hand with his eyes, palm facing up before drawing a deep breath, wordlessly asking Kyungsoo to breathe slow, deep and long.

Another nod. Another “okay”.

He then pointed his index finger to his ear, the gesture indicating that he couldn’t clear his ears and had trouble equalizing. So you locked your eyes with his and took his elbows in your hands to pull him up to ascend slightly before quickly pushing him down again while wondering whether he’d paid attention to the theoretical lessons at all.

He squeezed his eyes shut before giving you another nod which meant that the equalization was a success.

Kyungsoo’s thumb and forefinger met in another “okay” but this time with an eye smile which you reciprocated with an “okay” before snapping your fingers into a teasing finger heart.

All traces of agreeableness instantly vanished from his visible features.

***

The deeper you went, your fluo green spectrum widened, whelming you with the underwater world’s tranquil beauty which neutralized the shooting pain in your ears and the violent thumping of your heart. Corals in the shape of giant mushrooms floated around you and sea urchins greeted you with their bright purple-brown spikes glowing under the ocean’s natural light. At your feet, a shy goby fish with its large head and tapered body tunneled its way into the sand upon sensing the arrival of strangers.

While you were immersed in this exquisite scenery, a wide eyed Kyungsoo grabbed your attention by waving at you, his hand holding a pink fin.

‘That fin looks familiar,’ you thought before realizing it was your fin that had released itself from your right foot. You almost choked from laughing with the regulator on and the mask attached to your face as Kyungsoo helped you stick it back on.

Having been privy to breathtaking videos and countless stories of the mysteries and magic of the underwater world, a first-hand experience felt surreal. You were quick to adapt to the environment and didn’t try to fight it or control it and your first breath under water had been an experience like no other.

The Boreas Wreck was home to a number of incredible marine species such as Mediterranean sponges and blue gorgonians, scorpionfish, sea urchins, starfish, goatfish, mullets, bream, lobsters, groupers, and barracuda. While you couldn’t pindown all the enticing, drop dead gorgeous palettes of reds, blues, and yellows that crossed paths with you, shoaling, schooling...or even solitary, it didn’t take away from the sheer awe you were overcome with at every second of your time several azure and viridian metres below the surface of land.

The instructor then guided the three of you inside the boat’s wreck, which was safe to enter since all hazardous items had been removed before Boreas was scuttled. With an excited Chanyeol in the lead per usual, you visited some of its confined rooms, and went further in to explore the kitchen, the engine room, the bridge and even the captain’s cabin. The dilapidated metal and wood body of the civil boat, covered almost entirely in sea fauna, was nothing short of a beautiful nightmare.

Traversing, you reached one corner of the boat basked in a blinding white light, enveloping you in a gentle embrace. Emotions so carefully locked away came flooding through the dam of your forced stoic indifference. Giving in, you stretched your arms out, allowing yourself to freefall into a distant memory.

Haphazardly flapping your arms and legs, you struggled to keep your head up but no matter how hard you tried, the pool water made its way into your mouth, nose, and eyes, even.

‘Appa!’ you managed loudly as you felt yourself drowning again.

Your Appa was the one who always came to your rescue.

No matter where you were, no matter how bad things got. He was always there. So when he just stood there, a smile on his face, watching you grapple with a force that mercilessly dragged you down while you kicked and punched and floundered to stay afloat...a mysterious emotion rose within you.

You felt betrayed by the man who was supposed to have your back.

Seething, ‘Appa!’ you bawled, but to no avail.

Until...magically...you didn’t need his help anymore.

After days of relentless torture, you’d finally found yourself moving forward, cutting through the water with synchronized movements of your arms and legs.

But the exhilaration hadn’t lasted long.

A couple of minutes in and you realized that that force was winning again but this time, you didn’t drown.

This time a familiar pair of hands grabbed you before you went under and threw you up in the air as your misty eyes took in the biggest smile on your father’s face with an equally big one gracing your bright features.

Circling his arms around your tiny torso, he nestled you into himself.

‘My champion!’ he whispered into your swim cap covered ear.

***

Back on the boat, with your diving gear off and fresh towels wrapped around your shoulders, you sank to your knees, completely wracked with sobs.

You felt a million emotions, all at once, the reigning one being embarrassment at this sudden outburst. With his arms around you and his chin resting on the top of your head, Chanyeol whispered, ‘It’s okay, it’s alright,’ to ground you while gently rocking you back and forth until you’d let it all out. Turning around, you buried your face into the crook of his neck as if to hide away from the inquisitive eyes of Kyungsoo and the instructor. Chanyeol held you closer, his hand stroking the back of your neck in silent support.

Even after a sumptuous lunch of salmon canapes, baked scallops, rice with spiny spider crab, mixed seafood finger foods complete with a chocolate semi sphere, Chanyeol was uncharacteristically quiet and Kyungsoo, uncharacteristically amiable.

“Feels a little morbid to be eating all this seafood after a dive,” you jested with a serious expression, nibbling on a piece of dark chocolate. And it was only then that the boys went back to being their true selves. Amused, Chanyeol guffawed, “Good to have you back!” while Kyungsoo choked on his sparkling white wine.

Shortly after, Chanyeol excused himself to make a call to Aera.

Kyungsoo ordered two coffees for the both of you and you noticed how he kicked about a conversation starter in his head as opened his mouth only to clamp it shut several times, before finally mustering, “I just want to say -”

“No,” you interrupted him in a mortified haste, “no, please don’t say anything I don’t wanna talk about it except, I’m really sorry for making it so awkward for you guys back there.”

“Oh, no,” he gave you a dismissive wave of hand, “it was just Chanyeol, me, and...erm...the pretty instructor who we’ll never see again. Chanyeol makes a complete ass out of himself every waking hour and as for me, please don’t worry about me. Especially not after you found me blind drunk on a rooftop in the dead of night. We all have our moments. I’m sorry,” he suddenly stopped short, expression solemn, “you said you didn’t wanna talk about it.”

You chuckled, teasing, “Pretty instructor, huh?”

This was the longest conversation you’d had with Kyungsoo so far and truth be told, you were caught off guard by... his smile. His resting face was a natural frown, mostly due to his poor eyesight. And in your experience, if he had his glasses on, it was Chanyeol who was the primary reason for his scowl, with you being a close second.

It took you a moment to take in that dazzling, heart shaped smile of his before you could speak again but it was Kyungsoo who lugged the conversation forward.

“I just wanted to thank you for what you did for me back there. I think I felt a little overwhelmed by the,” he pondered his thoughts before concluding, “the vastness of the ocean. Sorry, I’m no poet.”

“Don’t mention it,” you smiled, “How did you feel by the end of it?”

“Umm,” Kyungsoo ruminated on your question, “I felt like I was in the moment...like, reaching a stage of subtle awareness from surface awareness.”

“And you say you’re not a poet,” you quipped, “So, like, meditation?”

“Maybe. It felt as if I was letting go of...of all the emotional baggage -” he trailed off rather plaintively.

Voice laced with hesitance, you sang, “So….maybe…you’ll sleep better tonight?”

Clearly taken aback by your question, Kyungsoo exclaimed, “What?!”

“I’m sorry but, it’s very obvious that you haven’t been sleeping too well.”

Thick eyebrows scrunched together, he let out a confused ‘Oh!’

“Did Chanyeol -” he continued, only to be interrupted by a booming, cheerful voice, “Think of the angel and the angel appears!”

Kyungsoo looked up at a beaming Chanyeol and deadpanned, “That’s not how the saying goes. Anyway, what took you so long?”

Eyes holding a glint of humour, Chanyeol placed a neatly wrapped iPhone box in front of Kyungsoo and took the dramatics up a notch with a stage performer-esque curtsey thus inviting amused stares from the nearby tables in the courtyard style restaurant. Kyungsoo unwrapped the packaging with the eagerness of a five year old on Christmas Eve and to his disappointment, instead of the high end handphone, he opened the case to a hot pink flip phone.

Kyungsoo let out a low growl, “The fuck is this?”

Standing at a safe distance from his fuming friend, Chanyeol quipped, “A phone,” while making no effort to suppress his laughter.

“Thank you, Mr. State The Obvious, but I’m an adult male, not a Japanese schoolgirl!”

Tickled by his own little prank, Chanyeol threw you under the bus by triumphantly howling, “It was Shifu’s idea!” before darting out of the premises.

Dumbfounded, you exclaimed, “WHAT?! NO!” as Kyungsoo fixed you with a death glare.

‘When were you going to tell me about this?’

Maybe this was one of your endless nightmares.

Maybe this wasn’t happening at all.

Your mother deflected your question by putting things away. Dirty dishes in the washer, clothes in the dryer, leftovers in the fridge, while you followed her around like a lost puppy, a crumpled, time stained letter held delicately in your hand.

The throbbing in your head now bordering on numbness, bile rising up your throat, your legs threatening to give away, you reiterated your question, vociferously this time, surprised at your own power of will. A quality that forever eluded you. The inability to voice your needs, your opinions, masked under a not so thinly veiled sense of self deprecating humour was...you, in a nutshell. This sudden surge of fighting spirit consuming you whole felt alien but at the same time, very natural and, at the same time, it was taking a toll on every nerve, every muscle, every bone.

Every second felt like your last.

‘Would she be able to handle it all over again?’ crestfallen, you mused, ‘The grief. The sympathy. The cumulation of my life -- all these decades condensed into a tiny vessel of ever fading memories. The sands of time trickling through her wrinkled fingers.’

‘Eomma, please -’ you cried out, only for your plea to fall upon deaf ears.

It wasn’t until the next morning that she spoke to you again.

Bloodshot eyes framed by the weight of living, she handed you a warm cup of tea and let out a deep sigh.

‘He never wanted you. It was your Appa who accepted me...he accepted us… It’s been three days since your Appa -,’ wracked with sobs, it took her a while to compose herself to be able to speak again, ‘don’t dishonour his memory.’

‘Why should I believe a word you say? Why should I believe that- that my own father never wanted me?’

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fishfingersandjellybabies · 3 years ago

Text

I Wonder What It’s Like (3/3) - fic

Characters: Jon Kent, Damian Wayne, some Maya and Kathy Pairing: jondami Summary: One person’s bad timing is another person’s good timing. A/N: And *mumble mumble* they live happily ever after. Damian was already curious because the way Jon was holding him in the rescue was the way Clark holds lois in similar situations and ONLY Lois. It was just a giant ‘oh fuck it’s reciprocated.’ moment I guess, so he egged it on.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

It was an alien invasion. Of course it was.

All hands on deck. Justice League, the Titans, and their Teen variety, Young Justice. Even some less desirables like the Outlaws, Suicide Squad, Deathstroke and, well, their own little ragtag group.

And it was a weird time to be thinking about it, you know, punching out aliens and their robot pets over the city harbor and all, that their little foursome didn’t have a name. Didn’t go by anything. They weren’t League and they weren’t Outlaws. They weren’t really…anything. The ace in the hole? The backup?

He didn’t like any of those-

“Focus, Superboy.” Crackled in his ear. He glanced down to the nearby skyscraper. Saw Damian and Maya fighting back-to-back. Felt himself smile. Kicking ass and taking names – that was so them.

It was Damian who had spoken. Damian, who wasn’t even looking at him. Too busy flipping over Maya’s shoulder as they switched opponents.

Jon blinked a few times, then looked back at his own enemy, clutched tightly in his fist, shrieking to the machine that Kathy was taking out a few feet away from him.

“How’d you know I wasn’t?” Jon mumbled, throwing his rock-monster-looking alien towards the ground.

“Because we know you.” Maya chimed in. “And you float when you zone out. Notice how high you are right now?”

Kathy laughed as Jon sheepishly floated back down to where she was. “What were you thinking ‘bout?”

“…We don’t have a team name.” Jon practically pouted. “We’re just…the Other Ones.”

“And that’s a problem?” Damian snorted. “The less who know about us, the better, in my opinion.”

“Oh, right, and your opinion is never wrong.” Maya droned. A moment later she let out a shout, and Jon glanced down to see that Damian had thrown an unconscious and oozing alien right at her. “Okay, no need to be childish, you little worm!”

Damian cackled at her annoyance, and Jon ignored the flutter in his stomach.

“And there was no need for you to open your mouth at all, yet here we are, Nobody.” Damian sneered. Maya let out a string of curses, and Jon watched her throw a body in Damian’s direction. Damian dodged it, and then spoke again, but softer this time, aimed at him. “…Were you just lamenting the fact, or coming up with names yourself?”

“Mmm, both? Neither?” Jon shrugged, shooting himself across the sky to intercept an alien heading straight for a group of fleeing civilians. “I just thought it was odd.”

“I can’t believe I’m going to say it, but I agree with Damian.” Kathy said, making a retching noise right after. Maya laughed through the comms. Damian scoffed. “I like it how it is right now, you know? People call us when they need us, and we get to be normal people otherwise. It’s like being a hero part-time, and honestly, after our childhoods? I think the four of us deserve the break.”

“Freelance heroes.” Maya echoed. “I mean, I don’t think actually having a name or title associated with us would change anything, but I suppose I get the general principle.”

“I just mean, like…what if we’re interviewed by the news? Or some little kid asks who we are?” Jon pushed. An alien came flying towards him. He caught it like a baseball, spun, and threw it back from where it came. “The day is saved thanks to…who? Justice League Jr.? The Ghosts? The Powerpuff Girls? Like, what’s our backup?”

“I think concerned citizens would suffice in most situations.” Damian drawled.

“Concerned and capable, that’s us.” Maya mocked.

Kathy laughed at the joke, and Jon just rolled his eyes. He turned towards the water, seeing a new hoard of aliens and their robots coming their way. He sighed – when would this end?

Suddenly, there was a sharp static crack in his ear. In his periphery, he saw Kathy flinch at the noise too. Their communicators, then.

But before either of them could open their mouths to ask, Maya gave a shriek.

“Fuck!” She screamed. Jon and Kathy spun back towards the building their teammates had been on. The rooftop was no longer swarmed with aliens. In fact, the aliens were all scattered and flailing, like they were turtles knocked on their backs.

Jon’s stomach dropped as his mind processed what else was wrong. Maya and Damian were gone.

“Damian!” Maya shouted. Jon saw movement below the roof, glanced down to see Maya scrambling to her feet on the fire escape, pointing straight up into the sky. “Guys, he grabbed Damian!”

Jon’s eye followed her finger, and sure enough, speeding above even his head, one of these rock creatures – but bigger, more reptilian – was flying full speed towards the stratosphere, Damian hanging from his clawed hand by his ankle.

Damian, of course, wasn’t fazed in the slightest. Already had a knife in hand, and was stabbing at his captor’s grip.

Jon’s heart pounded, and he found himself glancing over at Kathy. She nodded, gave him a grim smile.

“Go get him.”

Jon needed nothing else, and felt the sonic boom snap behind him as he took off after the reptile man.

“Does he always break the sound barrier when he takes off?” Maya’s voice buzzed through his communicator. She was most likely talking to Kathy. He paid it no mind. “Or is that just another one of those Damian things…”

But because Damian was, well, Damian, he couldn’t leave well enough alone and kept stabbing at the monster’s fingers. And even as Jon sped towards them, he could see the creature getting frustrated, questioning how worth it it was to have Damian as a captive.

Without warning, he decided that, apparently, it wasn’t worth it at all.

So he dropped him.

Panic electrified Jon’s system, and his breath came up short as he twisted his course to follow a now-plummeting Damian.

What if he wasn’t fast enough? What if he didn’t catch him? What if the alien came back?

What if Damian died? Right here? Right in front of him?

“I’m coming!” Jon found himself shouting, both for himself and for Damian. In freefall, he saw Damian look towards him. “I’m coming, D!”

And as he got closer, flying as fast as he could, he saw Damian believe it, believe in him, and slowly, steadily, reach his hand out.

Jon was almost there. Jon almost had him.

But god, the buildings below them were already so close.

His heart was on fire, the wind in his face was causing his eyes to tear up. But he was close, he was so close-

(And the jagged corner of that skyscraper was even closer.)

-so he reached his own hand out, brushed his fingertips against Damian’s. Watched Damian watch their hands. Watched all fear drain from Damian’s face, turn into blind trust.

Then grabbed his forearm and yanked him into his chest. Held the back of Damian’s head as he spun them, so it was his back that bounced into the corner of the building’s roof, and not Damian’s skull.

The momentum kept them bouncing. Off that first building into another, into a fire escape, into a broken window, into brick, against a dumpster. And all the while, Jon kept tight hold of Damian, kept him curled into his chest, hidden by his cape.

Anything to keep him safe. And alive.

They landed in a heap in the alleyway, Jon’s back against the dirty ground, and Damian spread on top of him. Jon let out a small groan as Damian scrambled up and backed off of him.

“I hate falling. It’s my least favorite part of flying.” He mumbled, sitting up himself. He rubbed at the base of his spine as he glanced up. “You okay?”

“Am I…?” Damian scoffed, holding out his hand. Jon took it, and let Damian swing him up into his space. “You’re really asking me? You’re the one who just crash landed.”

“Being Kryptonian helps with that.” Jon winked. “Besides, you were the one who was just almost kidnapped, and then almost splattered on the pavement. I think it’s a valid question.”

Damian scoffed and crossed his arms, glancing away. “I’m fine…Thank you.”

“Any time.” Jon grinned. But almost instantly, he let the smile drop. Furrowed his brows and, without thinking, reached out, cupping his hand along Damian’s jaw and turning his head. “Hey, what’s…”

He’d seen blood, he thought, coming from Damian’s hairline. Was it from the previous fight, or their fall? Jeez, if it was from their fall, Jon wasn’t sure if he could handle…

But no, it was just dirt. Grime from being in battle all day with no breaks. His bad. He went to smile once more, but found himself hesitating as he glanced towards Damian’s face, and found Damian staring at him with wide eyes. Wide, too knowing, too soulful, too hopeful, too green eyes.

He felt his own heart beating against his chest. Especially as he remembered just how close they were standing. Damian had pulled him up into his chest, and Jon had never backed up.

And Damian never asked him to.

Suddenly, he found himself unable to let go of Damian’s face. Kept his hand glued to the curve of his throat, Damian’s own heartbeat pulsing against his fingers. Swallowed, and could have sworn the whole city heard it.

“Damian, I…”

But Damian cut him off with a simple, blunt demand. “Kiss me.”

Jon stumbled over the noises suddenly coming out of his mouth. Not words, not even thoughts. His attempts at speaking coming out like television static instead.

“Wha…what?”

“You heard me.” Damian said lowly, and Jon could feel the cheek under his hand heating up in the start of a blush. “And you know I don’t repeat myself.”

“You…I…this…” There was a crash a few streets over and Jon flinched. Instinctively shifted even closer into Damian’s space to box him in against the wall, to protect him. Just in case.

He never dropped his hand.

A second later, he realized his movement, and glanced down. Damian was still watching him with those sharp jade detective eyes. The ones Jon could stare into forever, if given the chance. The ones he could see the universe in, that were brighter than any star in the sky.

God, Damian could always see right through him.

“…I don’t think now’s the best time.” Jon whispered, almost desperately. Damian smirked.

“Timing and invasions and life-or-death danger has never stopped your mother and father. Hell, that never stopped my parents either. I’m pretty sure I was conceived in the middle of an assassination plot. On both of them.” A pause, to think, to bite at his lip. “But you didn’t say no.” Damian breathed softly. “Bad timing is not a no.”

“Well, of course not.” Jon rambled – admitted – as he looked off to the side, towards the invasion still happening all around them. Looked at anything but Damian. “But, we have to save the city. The attack is still going, and these aliens-”

Suddenly, there were fists in the front of his cape, and he was being yanked down, lips crashing into his.

Damian tasted better than Jon could ever dream, ever fantasized all those nights alone in his room. There was no distinct taste, but rather…he tasted like the donut Maya had forced him to have for breakfast that morning. The black coffee he’d drank with it.

He tasted like blood and chapped lips, with a fading hint of the cheap chapstick he used because it was a gift from a little girl they’d rescued a few months ago.

He tasted like insecurities and heartbreak. He tasted like a man who had never been sure of anything in his life until this moment, this action.

And Jon wanted to devour him. Jon knew he had to devour him.

Consciously this time, he raised his other hand, held Damian’s face as tenderly as he could. Felt his breath hitch as Damian skimmed his hands down Jon’s chest to grab at his waist.

It felt like he’d been waiting his whole life for this.

Damian seemed to almost melt against him, and when he leaned back those few centimeters to take a breath, Jon guided him backwards, until his spine pressed against the building’s brick wall.

“Jonathan…”

But Jon pushed against him, swallowed his voice. He couldn’t help but smirk, just a little. Damian may have started this, but he had no problem taking control.

And his heart stuttered at the thought that Damian was letting him.

But then, of course – of course – there was a explosion from the building behind them. They broke apart as Damian ducked slightly, and Jon once more hovered over him protectively.

Debris collapsed loudly around them, a sharp rod of steel bouncing off Jon’s back at one point. But as soon as it began to settle, their comms. crackled to life with their allies, friends and fathers calling for them, asking for their locations and statuses. Roars of the aliens echoed all around them.

Damian sighed.

“I suppose…you were correct.” He grumbled as he stood back to full height, looking up towards the clouds.

“About?”

“Now probably wasn’t the best time for...” He whined, waving his hand awkwardly between them. He put his hands on Jon’s chest again, but this time to push him gently back and step back into the street. “There’s an alien invasion to stop.”

Jon watched him for a moment. “…Damian?” Damian glanced over his shoulder. “Are we going to talk about this later?”

Damian blinked, then smiled. But not a hero smile. Not a Robin or Nightwing or Batman smile. A Damian smile. Warm and genuine and just the slightest bit mischievous.

“What’s there to talk about, Beloved?” Damian asked, leaning back and taking Jon’s hand, pulling him forward. “Now come on, there’s a world to save.”

#jondami #jon kent #Damian Wayne

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danny-chase · 3 years ago

Note

wait selina had her own protege? Tell me more 🥺

[Image ID: A young girl (maybe like 13-15) with hazel (yellowish) eyes and short brown hair. She's wearing a lot of eye makeup, a little hat with cat ears, and goggles. She wears a tie, pink vest, and grey t-shirt with pawprints. End ID]

Batman (1940) #642

Kitrina Falcone - link to wiki

She was a Catwoman copy cat (haha sorry i couldn't help it) who grew up with her abusive uncle (Mario Falcone - he literally tries to kill her in the arc she's in, she calls him uncle - but others claim she's his little sister and she claims she's Carmine's daughter) and lived on the streets for a while. She looked up to Catwoman and imitated her, but Selina steals some of her maps (i think like blueprints for heists or smth idk) so she breaks in to Selina's house to steal them back.

At this point she was working for Penguin (she bombed a place it was a whole thing) - her map making skills are vital for taking down/locating Black Mask so she's vital (she's doing this for the bounty). And she and Selina get on and Selina gives her a costume and she becomes Catgirl.

[Image ID: Selina Kyle as Catwoman and Kitrina Falcone as Catgirl stand on a rooftop next to each other with the moon illuminating them. The Catgirl costume has a studded silver belt and collar, black claw-like gloves, black leggings, and a black tank. There are pink zagging stripes on the side of the torso and back of her calf that have silver behind them. She also wears pink ankle high converse with a purple cat icon patch on the side. She has a mini cowl with cat ears that are pink on the inside and pink scale-like bracelets/ruffles at the end of her gloves. Narration boxes (Dick): Or in this case, in the reflection I catch out of the corner of my eye - the swift and agile movement in the reflection of the windows across the street. Selina: He's gone, Catgirl. Kitrina: I want to follow him. I bet he has a cool hideout. Selina: No. You have much to learn... and lesson one starts tonight. End ID]

Batman (1940) #697

Idk if she has any appearances as Catgirl, but following her appearances listed in the wiki she lives with Selina for a while until Dick tries to talk her into going to boarding school (with Selina also on board) on orders from Bruce.

[Image ID: Dick and Kitrina argue on a rooftop, Dick as Batman and Kitrina in a white tank top and pink pajama pants. Narration box: I don't have much time to spare on a night like tonight. But Bruce wants Kitrina Falcone out of Gotham. I can't say I disagree. Dick: The Aldridge Boarding School for girls is one of the best in the country, Kitrina. It's everything you need. Kitrina: And nothing I want. Dick: You can't have what you want. I'm taking that away from you. Kitrina Why are you acting like such a dork? I've proven myself. I helped you. Are you forgetting all the - Dick: You're young enough... smart enough to have a normal life. And you're an opportunist... take the one I'm giving yo - Kitrina: No one gives me anything. I take. I have everything I need here. Support. Training. Selina (off panel): Listen to him, Kitrina. End ID]

Batman (1940) #710

Dick lecturing a kid about not being a child vigilante is just jdfklajdkfla hypocrite XD

Anyways from here on, she runs ahead on the case they're working on (i skimmed didn't actually read it) leaving him clues and such it's like the typical young vigilante storyline of being over confident. She gets in over her head, Dick catches up and bails her out - she runs (because this one actually has self preservation instincts unlike the 934758 other batfam characters). Dick gets shot in the head (again - but don't worry the cowl redistributed its impact *sigh* this man has so much head trauma, but comic book logic) by Harvey Dent's wife Gilda no less and wakes up later and finds this letter.

[Image ID: Dick looks down at a paper, bandages are wrapped around his forehead. He's drawn with blocky features there art style isn't doing him any favors. Dick: A letter from Kitrina Flacone. The note reads: Dear Batman, I am writing to keep you from worrying about what became of me. I wouldn't want you to think that "Catgirl" got in over her head. Or was kidnapped, or killed. They show the side of a travelling bus. Note: I'm leaving voluntarily. In fact, I'm going to try out that school you signed me up for. It's probably a dumb idea... but I'm a girl who likes challenges. Kitrina sits looking into the window, seeing her reflection as Catgirl, earbuds in her ears. Note: And putting up with a bunch of rich prissy debutantes will be a challenge. I'm sure I'll put a few of them on their rears by the time it's over. But the point I'm making is, don't count me out. I'll be back. And I will be bad-assed. - Sincerely, K End ID]

Batman (1940) #712

The arc itself is pretty dry and follows a pattern we've already seen from DC comics. Also she's like "I'll be back" and DC just went sike. So. Yeah. Reboot messed her stuff up. It's annoying to me that they made Lian Selina's new protégé or whatever when they already had this storyline right here, and to have Jade drop her off like that is ooc, especially because Roy was right there as well. And while Kitrina might not be for everyone personality wise, I personally would love to see her kick rich kids asses at boarding school. Or just have her train under Selina - because at the least she already grew up watching Selina and trying to emulate her, both in personality and in the skills she taught herself - so the connection for this character is already there - whereas "Shoes" just came out of nowhere.

Another thing I find kind of funny is the popularity of "Stray" fics, because she hits some of the same beats I've heard about (i haven't read any though this is second hand knowledge). To my understanding, when someone (Tim or Jason) is stray, they grow up on the streets trying to escape familial abuse (which she does) and eventually is taken in by Catwoman (which she is) and becomes her protégé (again which canonically happened to this character). Though she doesn't interact with her respective Robin (Damian at the time) too much which i think is also usually a part of said fics.

Anyways here's her being called a stray lakdfjaslfdj

[Image ID: Kitrina as Catgirl slams into a car, Riddler's daughter following after her. Riddler's daughter: I need to warn you. I hate cats. Kitrina is kicked through the cars windshield. Riddler's daughter: Especially strays. Kitrina: Oofh! End ID]

Batman (1940) #711

I have no idea if this is a coincidence or not - this character has very few appearances, which date back to the Dick!Bats era - so i assume most of this fandom doesn't actually know who she is, but it's possible one of the first "Stray" fics used her as inspiration.

Also she freaking bit Dick as Batman which i find hilarious - i know fandom makes a big thing about Damian being a biter but like:

[Image ID: Kitrina bites someone's gloved forearm - it's Dick as Batman but you can't tell from the panel, forcing him to drop a knife. There's a chomp sound effect. Kitrina: What're ya? Crazy?! You're not killing him! Dick: Umff!]

Batman (1940) #696

*CHOMP*

#I also found a panel of Steph biting the Black Mask during War Games and i was like yes get him!!!#thanks for the ask i'm sorry this was so gosh darn long lmao #Kitrina falcone #stray #i wouldn't go looking for stray stuff apparently theres a lot of j*y/t*m which is why i avoid it #and allow the more dedicated individuals wade through the trash and tell me about it #either which way i'm literally so angry they chose to do a stupid ass plot with Lian instead of just bringing her back #like dc please read your own comic book canon and then we can talk #asks #batfam #little known batfam members #batfamily #catwoman #catgirl #dc comics #selina kyle

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yandere-sins · 4 years ago

Text

The Fox Wedding - Prologue II

Summary: You are to marry the fox spirit Kita Shinsuke after you accidentally agreed to become his wife by signing the deed to your new home. A contract is a contract, he says, but is there more to this marriage than you know? Will you be whisked away by one of the foxy twins instead, or have to marry Kita after all? Can you be with a creature that only seems tender on the surface, or will you try to run even if it might cost you your life? Choose your route carefully, you never know what these foxes are up to!

Characters: Kitsune!Kita Shinsuke, Kitsune!Miya Atsumu, Kitsune!Miya Osamu, Kitsune!Suna Rintarou, afab!Reader

Rating: Explicit Warnings for this chapter: Yandere, Kidnapping, Forced/Unhealthy Relationship, Cursing

“I think…” Atsumu spoke out loud, having watched the spectacle for a while now. His eyes were fixated on the door to the underground bunker, and a smile played around his lips as he watched Kita leaving, together with Suna, who stood guard for the longest time. From their place on top of one of the half torn-down rooftops of the abandoned village, Atsumu could overview everything, even the celebrations held in the main hall, lights, and laughter reaching his twitching ears even through the magically restored sliding doors.

“You think…?” Osamu yawned next to him, not bothering with bringing a hand to his mouth, still unused to the human customs they were forced to uphold. He, at least, didn’t like it, though Osamu still was better in trying to conform to them than his twin.

“I think I want her.”

If not for the cicadas around them, silence fell over the brothers as the wind was the only other thing rustling through the grasses below their feet. “Crazy. You’re simply crazy.”

“Just think about it!” Atsumu was quick to snap back, turning to his twin as if he needed to convince him for a plan he had already decided to go through with anyway. “Are you really happy here? Happy with their customs, their orders?”

“They took us in, ‘Tsumu. They fed us and healed our wounds after you went batshit crazy trying to fight that Tengu. You can’t just take the Clan Leader’s future bride as you want.”

Again, silence as Atsumu thought about it. Not long enough to make his brother believe he actually thought about it, but he pretended well. “Okay,” Atsumu ‘gave in’, nodding. Osamu sighed, knowing his brother felt no remorse or fault about what happened, and he never had any intentions to stay in the village anyway. “Have you seen her?” Atsumu whispered, eyes looking up to the moon, full and clear on the horizon.

“Briefly, why?” Leaning back, Osamu picked at his teeth with his little finger as he followed Atsumu’s gaze to the stars. Sitting here definitely was better than partying downstairs. Maybe at first, he had liked being in a community, but Osamu too felt the dread of having to bow your head to basically strangers, even if the two had been adopted into the fox family whose protection they were now under.

“She’s beautiful,” Atsumu sighed lovestruck, bopping his feet up and down excitedly. All Osamu could focus on was Atsumu’s tail wagging like a common dog, happy to see its owner. For someone as sharp and cunning as Atsumu, he truly was a fool. Even more so, a fool in love now. Annoyed, he reached for the telling limb, gripping it tightly and making Atsumu yap in surprise before throwing Osamu an angry glare. The latter merely stuck out his tongue, which riled up Atsumu even more.

“At least take a good look at her then!” he hissed, standing up and pulling his tail out of his brother’s grip. “‘Tsumu, wait,” Osamu called after him, sitting up on the rooftop as his twin left. Atsumu briefly turned to look up at him, as he was already off the roof, his gaze determined. He always knew what he wanted, and that was a trait Osamu both admired and despised on him. “You can’t face her like that. You’re so ugly.”

Hair stood up as on his neck as Atsumu furiously stomped away, screaming, “WE LOOK THE SAME, YOU BASTARD!”

With a chuckle to himself, Osamu followed casually, wanting to see how this was going to end. He couldn’t let his twin have all the fun alone either.

You could pace your cell, and you could cry, but this time, there was no one listening in to your woes. Even if you kept rattling the bars, pleaded with them to yield, nothing happened when you touched them. Kita had made it look so easy, but there was something else going on; you just knew it. Magic, that’s what it was. How pathetic you felt, knowing that not even a guard at the entrance was waiting anymore since they didn’t expect you to get out on your own.

Wondering what time it was, something in you finally gave up. Perhaps it was exhaustion, or maybe just indifference about the situation now, but you were too tired to keep on fighting your problem. Your mind felt like some kind of slideshow, but it kept showing you the same thoughts over and over. It was trying to construct something that was out of your hands, tried to give you answers for everything. But as thankful as you felt to yourself for trying, its efforts were in vain.

There were no gaps to fill out, at least not on your own.

“Look at her! Damn it, ‘Samu, get your ass over here!” you heard from above the window, and god, for the first time, you felt annoyance as you did not want to deal with this. Whoever was speaking probably was just here to mock you again, and you simply couldn’t deal with this now.

Once you decided to give up your endeavors of getting out and complaining, you had settled in the furthest corner of the cell. The one that seemed the least… unappealing to you from what you could see. But now, you stood up, angry that gawkers were leering into your window just to have some fun. Nudging the previously thrown over chair - you weren’t proud, but frustration had overcome you - back to the window, you took a deep sigh before stepping up on it. You tried to look strong, hoping it would seem like you were and scare off whoever was there, but inwardly, you couldn’t help but fear what could be awaiting you.

“If you’re not helping, then leave--!”

The words got caught in your throat as you didn’t expect two piercing pairs of eyes looking right back the moment you appeared in the window. It seemed to have caught them off-guard as well, and for a split second, they flinched away, halting their movements like animals determining if they should move or be quiet.

“Woah,” the blonde fox spirit gasped, inching closer immediately. With a short, hesitance glance to the former, the second one came closer, however, not as close as the other. A respectful distance, how you found, he seemed reasonable in your eyes. Only now you noticed that they looked eerily similar, almost like twins if there was such a thing under spirits. “You’re so pretty!”

The comment was now catching you off-guard, and you leaned back in surprise, almost losing your balance on the chair if you weren’t holding on to the window bars. “Oi, stop scaring her! Get back, ‘Tsumu!” the more reasonable twin instructed, though only when he gripped his brother’s shoulder tightly did he react. Up until then, he merely stayed absolutely still, only his eyes following every movement that you did, no matter how minor it was.

“Eeh,” he mumbled. “Sorry to scare you.”

That didn’t sound like he meant it at all.

“You should be nicer. She’s the future wife of the Clan Leader,” the grey-haired brother muttered, reprimanding his brother who seemed unfazed while he watched you. In fact, by now, he had laid down in the grass, pushing it down. This was taking on casual picnic vibes instead of your imprisonment, and you didn’t know how to feel about that.

“I’m not… I don’t want to…” you stuttered, biting your lip as you felt the tears return to your eyes, though you doubt you had any water left in your body to lose more. “I just want to leave,” you whispered, looking down helplessly, knowing they wouldn’t help you either.

“You made her cry, you Dunce,” one of the two whispered softly, and you heard an upset, “Ouch!” follow the snip of a finger.

“Who’re you calling a dunce, you… Idiot!”

There was the soft sound of a scuffle, and you looked up at the brother’s watching them trying to hit each other while also blocking the oncoming hits at the same time. As stupid as it was, you couldn’t help a small laugh falling from your lips about how bizarre and absurd this situation was, but it made both of their ears peak up out of their hair.

“That’s better. You’re cute when you laugh,” the blonde one sighed happily, his lips curling into a smile too. “Now, do you want to get out?” he added straight away, causing his brother to give him a look that was saying, “What are you even talking about?”

“C-Can you?!” you squeaked in surprise, instantly clearing your throat and lowering your voice again. Even if the spark of hope was ever so little, it was quick to ignite in you, rattling your senses to think about all the sudden possibilities. Even if those two were the same as Kita, if they could let you out, you’d take your chance with them. “I mean- yes. Please let me out immediately! I can’t stay here, I can’t become that… person’s wife! So, please--!”

However, before you could finish your sentence, your eyes caught onto something that spread behind the two, something that could be best described as fire, though you had never seen it in these colors. A mix between blue and green, flaming up in balls and twirling through the air. By now, the two had noticed it too, their body language changing as they tensed up, getting to their knees quickly.

“And… what are you two doing?”

Oh, this voice you knew, and instantly, all the hope you mustered to create inside of you, vanished.

Out of the fire, unfazed by its usual quality of burning someone, Kita emerged. Also, another man - or fox - stuck his head out from behind him. You hadn’t seen him around, but while everyone’s eyes were intense, his seemed to be the most fox-like and uncomfortable to you, always reminding you that you weren’t dealing with humans. “We were--” the grey-haired brother glanced at his twin who searched for words, eventually filling in for him, “--greeting...”

“Yes! Greeting her!”

“I see. That’s very thoughtful of you.”

Kita’s eyes fell on you, and you made a point to look away and sigh, wiping the tears from your face. You’d not entertain him with your attention, you decided. Missing the deflated expression he made, all you heard was a soft snort coming from one of the people outside your window. “Why don’t you all go back to the party?” Kita demanded, even if it was spoken like a question. Hearing the ruffling of clothes as the twins stood up immediately, you sent one last desperate glance at the blonde one. To your surprise, he looked back, giving you a short, unnoticeable nod before turning and leaving with his brother.

“Idiot…” you heard his brother scold him.

“Idiot, yourself!” he yapped back.

“You’re both idiots,” the unknown man exclaimed with a sigh as he followed them, sending you a quick glance over his shoulders too before leaving you behind with Kita.

“[Name],” you suddenly heard from next to you as you were too focused on looking after the three to notice Kita having kneeled down, peering right at you. If it bothered him that you jumped, having totally forgotten about him, he didn’t let it notice you from his expression. Instead, with his hand flat on the ground, he cowered down to properly look you in the eyes on your height. This gesture seemed unlikely for a ‘man’ of his stand, yet it wasn’t the first one he surprised you with.

“Did the two of them say anything unnecessary to you?”

“If they did, I sure as hell wouldn’t snitch it to you,” you hissed back, and he closed his eyes for a moment, which you could only interpret as him dismissing your choice of words.

“Very well then.”

Raising from the ground again swiftly, Kita’s movements stroke you as odd, impractical despite being elegant. It just gave you another warning that you were dealing with something that was hard to believe. “Wait,” you called out to him, unsure why you even raised your voice. Maybe you still hoped for answers, or to reason with him, and now was as good as any moment. But his ears perked up, and he laid his head to the side, waiting for you to talk patiently.

“When can I leave? It’s dark and cold in here… I don’t want to be here.”

For unbearable long seconds, he merely looked at you, and it stirred up the fear in you that he might say, “Never.” The time he thought things over was something you couldn’t get used to.

“Not too long anymore, don’t worry,” was his answer, vague and dismissive. “I suggest you don’t talk to anyone anymore until the ceremony.”

Sighing, you shook your head, one leg already off the chair, and you looked after it as you decided to end this conversation on your terms instead of having him walk off on you again. “Can’t make me…” you mumbled. It wasn’t like you wanted to challenge him, but to be fair, at that moment, you also forgot that he could hear you, even if you softened your voice.

“Yet,” you heard him hiss right at you, making your head snap back outside, seeing his wide-opened eyes staring at you with only the bars separating the two of you. This time, you did lose your balance from the shock and surprise, the chair wobbling below you as you lost your halt, your body plummeting to the cold, hard ground with a groan and a whine. Your hips and lower back were aching from the shock, but when you looked back to the window with tears in your eyes, Kita was gone.

And with him, he took all the hope you had, leaving you behind in the despair of anticipation.

CHOOSE YOUR FATE

➤ Marry Kita

➤ Run away with Atsumu

➤ Rely on Osamu’s care

➤ RUN

We recommend reading the routes first before proceeding with the last option.

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polaroid15 · 4 years ago

Text

The Words I Never Said

Summary: “I am a scientist, Peter. You are an experiment. It’s the natural order of things, really, that I study you.”

“You’re insane. You have to let me go.”

“I don’t think you understand, so I will try to be more clear. I own you. My research courses through your veins. Your life is my property.”

Or, Norman Osborn kidnaps Peter, and Tony will do anything to get him back.

Read on Ao3 HERE :)

--------

Peter knows something is wrong as soon as Happy’s ID fills his phone screen.

He’s sitting on the edge of a rooftop, legs dangling fifty feet in the air and a half eaten sandwich from Delmar’s in his hand. Not even waiting to swallow, Peter accepts the call. “Happy? What is it, what’s wrong?”

At first, he’s met with an uneasy silence. His spider sense flares uncomfortably in response. “Why do you always assume something’s wrong?” Happy asks.

“Because something always is.”

Happy sighs. “It’s Tony.”

If Peter weren’t sitting, he would have fallen. He steadies himself anyways, leaning back as the cityscape below threatens vertigo. “What? What about him? Is he okay?”

The silence again. God, it’s killing him. Peter can hear his heartbeat in his ears. “Happy,” he stresses. “Talk to me. Is he okay?”

“As far as I know, he’s fine. I got a ransom call about fifteen minutes ago. Oscorp has him.”

Peter’s head is a top spinning out of control. He drops his sandwich and stands, too upset to stay stationary. He paces on the roof with his free hand on his head. “Oscorp? Are you kidding me? What- how the hell did this happen? What does Oscorp want with Tony?”

“It’s a long story. But listen- it’s not Tony that they’re really after, kid.”

Peter stops short in his frantic pacing, his spider sense flaring once more. “What is it then?”

“They want Spider-Man. They want you in exchange for Tony’s life.”

Peter can’t breathe, all the puzzle pieces clicking into place. Oh man.

“I’ll do it,” he says, though somewhere in the promise his confidence wavers. “Do you know where in Oscorp he’s being held?”

“No- Pete. Listen to me right now. God, I shouldn’t have called. You can’t just barge in there, okay? We need to strategize. Swing to the Tower and we’ll make a plan to get him back safe without putting you at risk too.”

“He could be dead by then!” Peter argues stubbornly. He spins on his heels and sees the top of Oscorp tower, barely visible through the New York skyline. “It’s me they want.”

Happy’s voice rises, and if Peter wasn’t so hyperfocused on his mentor’s safety he would hear the man’s raw concern bleeding through. “Peter. You are not handing yourself over to Oscorp. Come to the Tower and we’ll figure out a way. There’s a better way.”

“I can’t let him die because of me,” Peter whispers, because Ben already has. No more blood. “I’m sorry Happy. I’ll be careful. I promise.”

“Peter! Don’t you dare hang up-”

But he does, his adrenaline making it almost impossible to feel the sting of guilt that follows. After tucking his phone away, Peter sprints to the edge of the roof and leaps. He free falls and fires a web, swings, and prays that he won’t be too late.

-------

“He’s not going to come. I’m terrible leverage.”

“On the contrary, Stark.”

Tony flexes his arms against his restraints and grinds his teeth together until his jaw aches. They had called Happy. Made their demands. Spider-Man, in exchange for his life.

Peter.

“Whatever you think you know, you’re wrong. I hardly know Spider-Man. I built his suit. That’s it.” A lie. God, it’s such a lie. Peter is his kid. As close to flesh and blood as he’ll ever get. “He’s not coming, so you might as well put a bullet between my eyes while you still have the upper hand.”

Tony doesn’t know the names of the men holding him, only that Norman is behind it all. There are five of them all together, each one armed with an assault rifle and military-grade vests. The ringleader, and ugly man with a pierced lip, smirks at Tony’s suggestion. “If Spider-Man is half the hero he claims to be, he’ll come.”

It leaves Tony’s mouth dry, because it’s true. Peter will do anything to keep him safe.

And it scares the hell out of him.

“The hour’s almost up,” one of the men says. “If Spidey doesn’t show soon our heads are on the line.”

“He’ll show,” sneers the man with the piercing. “Be patient.”

Tony pulls harder on his restraints, but they don’t budge. Come on, Happy. Fix this.

Five tortuous minutes pass.

The elevator dings as the doors open, spilling orange light into the dimly lit room. It’s empty and the ringleader curses, raising his rifle to his eye. “Check it out,” he orders the man to his left.

Obeying, the accomplice moves quickly towards the open elevator, his heavy footsteps making loud echoes that reverberate through Tony’s head. The anticipation is overwhelming. Please don’t be Peter. Oh God, please don’t let it be him.

The doors start to close but the man reaches out a hand to stop the movement. Tony holds his breath, hands sweating and heartbeat threatening to jump out of his neck at what lies beyond. It’s the longest second of his life.

The man looks left, right. Then up. “Holy crap!”

The sound of webbing is enough to bring tears of panic to Tony’s eyes. He digs his nails into the chair and watches in earnest as the man falls back against the floor, his entire upper body encased in webs that keep him in place.

Chaos.

Before Tony has the chance to blink, Peter is swinging out from the elevator and shooting off webs. They hit and shatter glass, and Tony ducks as gunshots start to fire. He feels a rough hand in his hair that is gone a second later, a web hitting his assailant’s face and landing him flat on his back.

More gunshots. A window erupts into thousands of fragments.

Silence.

Tony jerks up his head, dizzy with relief when his eyes land on Peter. The boy is sprinting towards him, sliding on his knees and grappling with Tony’s bindings until they snap. “Oh my god! Are you okay? Please tell me you’re okay. I’m so sorry this is all my fault and I can’t believe they fell for that elevator trick-”

“Kid!” Tony interrupts, grabbing him at the shoulders and shaking lightly. “You can’t be here!”

“But-”

“They want you, idiot! Not me.”

Peter squirms away from his grip before turning his head sharply towards the staircase, a tic Tony has come to recognize as his Peter tingle in action. “More are on their way. No time to argue. We gotta go!”

Knowing better than to object, he allows Peter to help him to his feet and stumble towards the elevator. His legs are cramped and stiff from sitting in the chair for so long, but the adrenaline of keeping Peter safe stows the pain somewhere he can’t feel it.

Behind them, the door to the staircase slams open. There’s gunshots and yells and in the crescendo of the noise, Peter pushes him forward. The force of it knocks him off balance and he slides the last couple of feet into the elevator, landing awkwardly against the back wall. Peter scrambles in moments later, his breathing ragged. “Get the door!” he screams.

Tony fights to get to his knees and slams his hand against the button for the parking garage. Bullets tear into the metal as the doors close.

They make it.

“Oh thank god,” Tony exhales, sliding down the wall. “Nice moves, kid.”

“T-Tony?” Peter stammers, his back turned. Something in his voice makes Tony’s blood run cold.

“Pete? What is it?”

Peter turns slowly, his hand pressed hard against the base of his ribcage. Tony doesn’t need to look hard to know he’s bleeding. That he got shot-

“No. Peter-” Before he can finish, Peter collapses down to his knees. Tony moves faster than ever to help soften the fall, his hands moving on instinct to cover the growing warmth on the kid’s side. “This can’t- You can’t-”

“Sorry,” Peter murmurs. “There were too many. Didn’t mean to.”

“Obviously not!”

The elevator lurches horribly, the small space going dark as they stop. Tony curses loudly as the elevator fills with soft yellow emergency lights. Under his hands, Peter laughs. It’s delirious. “They cut the power. Smart.”

“Not smart!” Tony hisses. “Now we’re trapped.”

“Don’t say that,” Peter whines. “You know I’m claustrophobic.”

“Why did you come here? What the hell were you thinking?”

Peter gapes at him, eyelids drooping. “Are you kidding me? I just saved your ass!”

“No, you’re going to get us both killed!”

“That’s not going to happen!” Peter says, struggling to get up before moaning and collapsing back. Tony’s knees are sticky with what can only be a growing pool of the boy’s blood. He tries very hard not to think about it.

Tony pushes Peter’s head back, his touch leaving tiny smudges of red under the boy’s hairline. Fix this. Fix him. “Stay down Pete. Moving around is only going to make the bleeding worse.”

“Yeah, I feel that,” Peter wheezes. His face is about a dozen shades more pale than normal. “Must’ve- must’ve hit something important.”

The dark crimson spreads. Tony is three seconds away from a panic attack. “Side wounds bleed a lot. Just try and stay awake, alright buddy?”

Peter hums, his eyes hazy as they trace the four walls keeping them captive. “I hate small spaces.”

“I know. I’m sorry. This is all such a damn mess.”

“Couldn’t leave you,” Peter slurs.

“You should’ve.”

“If it were me, you would- you would have done the same thing.”

Through the dim emergency lighting, Tony sees Peter begin to shiver. He wonders if it’s from the shock or the blood loss. Maybe it’s some sick combination of the two. Tony presses his hands down harder against the wound and Peter cries out, his eyes rolling back.

“Hey, hey. Focus up kid. Don’t go anywhere. You want to save me? Then save me. You can’t do that if you’re unconscious.”

Peter’s eyelids flutter but stay stubbornly open, his chest heaving with laboured breaths. His lips are crimson. He looks up at Tony in a daze. “Never been shot before,” he murmurs. “Ben-”

“Don’t go there,” Tony interrupts, mouth going sour. “Don’t think about it.”

“Kinda- kinda hard not too.”

God, this kid.

The stain underneath Peter grows further, pooling underneath Tony’s shins. “Think you can web the wound? It’ll- it’ll slow the bleeding. Buy us some time.”

“Time,” Peter agrees, lifting a shaky hand. “Help me.”

Together, they seal the wound closed. It saturates quickly but holds, though for how long is uncertain. His hands are free now, covered completely with Peter’s blood. It’s impossible to look away.

“Hey,” Peter says, covering Tony’s hand with his own and pushing them down. As if everything around them has slowed, Tony meets Peter’s eyes. “It’s okay. Happy is on his way-”

The elevator lurches again, the emergency lights replaced by the regular ones. Both flinch against the brightness, the gore of Peter’s wound even more vivid and launching Tony’s heart into his throat.

“This’ll be a good story one day,” Peter says breathlessly, paling further as the webbing over his side begins to leak.

“You’re not funny, kid.” His hands are shaking too badly to do anything. He prays that whoever is waiting for them at the bottom is friendly, that Happy found a way to save them.

“I mean it,” Peter says, smiling up at him. Even with blood stained teeth, Tony can’t help the rush of fondness that washes over him. “Never a dull moment.”

“God, Pete. If you only knew how many gray hairs you’ve given me-”

“Gray hair is in right now. Very trendy.”

The elevator hits its destination. Tony turns his back on Peter to face the doors head on, his arms splayed out wide to protect him. “Look, kid. Whatever happens-”

The door springs open. Too quick. A dozen men stand waiting, their weapons trained to shoot. Peter gasps behind him as he struggles to get up, and Tony sacrifices a hand to push him back gently.

“We only want Spider-Man. This doesn’t have to concern you, Stark.”

Rage, hot and consuming rises up through Tony’s chest. “If you want him, you have to go through me.”

Peter makes a low noise of protest, words seemingly beyond him. He feels the kid’s weak hand circle around his wrist, his thumb slick with blood running what should be a comforting line across his pulse point.

“Whatever you say.”

They surge forward. Tony struggles and screams but it’s hopeless. There’s too many of them. He’s wrestled away from the elevator and dragged out into the garage. “Don’t touch him!” Tony spits, too desperate to breathe. He watches in horror as they swarm Peter’s body, grabbing his limbs ungently and extracting him. It leaves a gruesome streak of red.

“NO!” Tony fights. He fights with everything he has. Because it’s Peter. It’s his kid, and it’s his own damn fault that they’re in this mess to begin with. “I’ll kill you! If you touch a hair on his head, I’ll-”

Something hard slams against his forehead, stunning him. The world goes blurry as his body loses its strength. He pitches forward and sees Peter on the brink of unconsciousness reach out for him.

He already knows they’ve lost. He reaches back anyways.

A boot slams into his temple.

And then there’s nothing.

----------

“-ony.”

“-hear me?”

“Damn it.”

Static. Darkness.

“Give him some space!”

It’s a battle to stick to reality. For now, he’s blissfully unaware, concerned only with how difficult it is to open his eyes.

“Come on, boss. Now would be a good time to show some life.”

The voice is familiar. Safe. Tony tries again to climb out of the dark hole he’s stuck in and manages, by some miracle, to regain his sight. The first thing he sees is Happy leaning over him, his face pinched in worry. “Thank God. You still got all your brains?”

“Happy?” Tony mumbles, the static still hanging heavy in his brain. “What-” he turns his head, sees an impossible amount of blood, and nearly passes right the hell back out. Peter. Oscorp. “Oh my god. P-Peter. They have Peter.”

“Take it easy,” Happy says, using both arms to help support Tony in his struggle to sit. “You took a hard hit to the head.”

“Peter was shot. They- they took him.”

“Calm down, boss. We’re going to get him back.”

“No. No, Happy you don’t understand-” Hot blood. A red hand reaching out for him. “Oh Christ. I can’t- I can’t-”

“Yes you can. You can. It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay,” Tony gasps, his eyes stinging as Happy guides his head down to hang by his knees. He can’t see the blood anymore. It helps.

“He’s a tough kid. Norman’s an idiot. We’ll have him back in no time.”

“He’s just a kid, Hap.” My kid. “This is all my fault.”

“No,” Happy says, his hand squeezing Tony’s shoulder in feeble reassurance. “I called him. If anything, it’s mine. I should’ve known he’d swing over here guns blazing.”

Head still spinning, Tony tries to focus on bringing air into his chest. You can’t help Peter like this. Get better. Breathe. “He wanted to save me.”

Happy is quiet for a long time. Then, “he did save you.”

Tony squeezes his eyes shut. “He sure has a habit of that doesn’t he?”

Beside him, Happy nods. Tony catches him looking at the elevator with a look of foreign bitterness.

“Now it’s our turn.”

---------

Peter wakes up alone.

It’s disorienting and painful, his mind clouded and his stomach tied into nauseating knots. It doesn’t take him long to remember what happened.

He’s tied down to a chair, his hands cuffed tight behind him with something strong enough to keep him in place. Vibranium, possibly. Or maybe it’s just the blood loss making him weak.

Stifling a groan, Peter rolls his head until it rests on his chest instead of hanging back. He’s not wearing his suit anymore. In its place, a pair of medical pants and a loose fitting t-shirt. Trying hard not to dwell on the invasion, he realizes his mask is gone, which doesn’t surprise him but is scary nonetheless.

They know who he is.

The shirt is bloodstained, but barely. Rather they stitched him up or his healing factor kicked in enough to close the skin. Regardless, the wound stings. Peter tries to ignore it.

Certain he’s not at risk of dropping dead, Peter expands his attention to his surroundings. Another facility, by the looks of it. The walls are white and albeit a little worn down. Old lab equipment and machinery litters the perimeter in no particular order or fashion, suggesting he’s in some kind of storage room.

He tugs on his cuffs and thinks of Tony.

He should’ve listened to Happy.

Before his thoughts can venture farther the door to the room opens. Norman Osborn fills its space and Peter shrinks away, fighting once more with his restraints. He’s alone. “Hello Peter.”

Heart beating hard against his ribs, Peter tries not to show the fear he feels. He raises his chin. “You’re a monster,” he says.

Norman chuckles like they’re good friends catching up after many years of being apart. He steps into the room and closes the door behind him. “It seems, Mr. Parker, that the only monster here is you.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Of course I do,” Norman says, “because I made you, didn’t I?”

“My powers have nothing to do with you.”

“Lying will profit you nothing.”

Peter can’t decipher between his anger and his fear, a hate he didn’t know he was capable of burning low in the center of his chest. “What do you want with me?”

Norman’s eyes light up as if he’s been waiting for Peter to ask all along. With the gait of someone at perfect ease, he strays closer and leans against an old lab table. “I am a scientist, Peter. You are an experiment. It’s the natural order of things, really, that I study you.”

“You’re insane. You have to let me go.”

“I don’t think you understand, so I will try to be more clear. I own you. My research courses through your veins. Your life is my property.”

Peter feels his walls crumbling. He strains his wrists even after he feels his skin split underneath.

“I don’t belong to anyone. You’re sick and you’ll never get away with this.”

Norman comes up beside him and backhands him so hard that Peter sees stars. It’s more shocking than painful, though his mouth fills with blood.

“You are not in the position to be disrespectful, Mr. Parker.”

Peter spits the blood in his mouth at Norman’s feet. “Tony will come for me.”

“Oh Peter,” Norman says softly. He straightens, his long shadow covering Peter’s small form. “Tony Stark is dead.”

Peter’s insides freeze. He stops breathing. Norman slips his hand into his pocket and reveals a syringe filled with clear liquid. He continues to smile, seeming to enjoy Peter’s distress. “You’re lying,” he chokes when no other words come. Because it can’t be true. He doesn’t remember a lot after the elevator had opened. Only that they had dragged Tony away from him. But he had been alive, then. Alive, not dead.

“I’m afraid not. One of my men shot him in the head when he resisted. I suppose Iron Man was not as indestructible as we thought. Now, try not to squirm.” Norman slides the needle under the skin at his neck. Peter doesn’t even feel it, his body numb with shock.

“No. No. It’s not true. It’s not-”

A wave of dizziness hits Peter hard, more powerful than when he had been bleeding out in the elevator. In an instant, all the strength in his body disappears and his head lolls back against the chair. Through tunneling vision, he sees Norman smirk. “You should’ve done a better job at protecting him,” he says.

Tony. Hot tears leak down the sides of Peter’s face. His heart is going to beat straight out of his freaking chest.

It’s the last thing he remembers.

-------

“We need to find him.”

“Tony, calm down. Let the Doctor look you over.”

Tony squirms away. He feels like he’s trapped. “No. We’re wasting time! Osborn has Peter and he’s going to kill him-”

Happy gestures for the Doctor to step away. Looking conflicted, she nods. When the door closes behind her Happy kneels in front of where Tony sits and places both hands on his shoulders. “If Osborn wanted Peter dead he wouldn’t have taken him. He would’ve just killed him at Oscorp. We’ll find him, but you need to get checked out first. You’ll be no good for Peter in the state you’re in right now, you hear me?”

Though it should be impossible, Tony manages to nod.

Obvious relief colours Happy’s face. “I’ll get the Doctor back in here. Keep breathing, boss.”

Peter. Gone. His fault.

“Right.”

----------

The drug Norman had injected into him doesn’t last long. Peter wakes up strapped to a table, a blinding light pointed directly at his face and the shadows of scientists surrounding him on all sides. They peer down at him like he’s the most fascinating thing they’ve ever seen, bloody instruments paused in their hands as he struggles to get the cotton out of his brain.

“Amazing. Awake already. Inject him again, but double the dose this time.”

“No,” Peter moans, his voice nearly inaudible. He tries to move and can’t. “P-please.”

He doesn’t feel the needle. He doesn’t feel the pain. It’s almost more scary this way.

“Sleep, Spider. Let us do our work.”

His body is weak. Tony is dead. Peter doesn’t even try to hold on.

This time, he’s out for good.

---------

Tony gets three stitches in his head. It’s uncomfortable but nothing in comparison to the heaviness in his chest.

“Any luck with Oscorp’s records FRI?”

“My system does not detect any Oscorp facilities that are unaccounted for. Facial recognition and security camera data is currently underway.”

Beside him, Happy holds his breath. They’re on thin ice and Tony is two seconds away from knocking down every building in New York. “Double time, FRI.”

It’s been three hours since he lost Peter.

Tony doesn’t let himself think the worst.

--------

Peter is back in the chair.

Every inch of him hurts, the scattered pain somehow much worse than the intense localized agony of the gunshot wound. He refuses to look down at his body, to see what Osborn has reduced him to.

I own you.

Tony Stark is dead.

This time, they’ve gagged him. When Peter cries, he can barely hear the sound to his own ears. He feels like he’s falling down a steep cliff, unable to find purchase or stop his descent. For the first time since he’d been bit, Peter sincerely wishes none of it had ever happened.

Tony is dead and Peter has no one to blame but himself. He wishes they had more time, that he had told Tony the things he’d always wanted to but never had the courage to verbalize.

His stilted sobs make his side scream in pain. Peter loses his breath.

He hopes Happy is looking for him.

But maybe he doesn’t deserve it.

--------

It’s another long hour before FRIDAY finishes her search. “Boss, I have identified three probable locations for Mr. Parker.”

His relief is a dam breaking open in his chest. “What’s the most probable?”

“Sending the coordinates to your suit now.”

It’s all he needs to hear. Metal encloses around his body and Happy sprints towards the car.

For the first time in hours Tony feels hope.

I’m coming Pete, he thinks. I’ll get you back.

No matter the cost.

--------

Peter is drifting when Norman comes back to his room, though from the drugs or the pain he isn't sure. The man drags in a chair this time and sets it in front of Peter, sitting comfortably with a manilla folder on his lap.

Without his voice, all Peter can do is glare.

“Now, now, Peter. There’s no need for such hostility.”

Go to hell, he tries to stay. It comes out as a pathetic jumble of words.

“Even gagged, you’re too mouthy for your own good. Speaking is a privilege, Mr. Parker. In time you will learn that.”

Tears well in Peter’s eyes. He blinks furiously to prevent them from falling.

“Congratulations on completing your first session. You truly are remarkable. The results my colleagues have shown me are almost too good to be true.”

Peter closes his eyes and breathes carefully through his nose. He wants this to be a dream. A horrible, terrible dream. Because if it’s a dream he can wake up. He can wake up and Tony will be alive. The pain will disappear.

“It’s funny, isn’t it?” Norman muses, “how this all came to be. A school field trip, correct? The chances are nearly impossible. It’s almost like this was meant to be.”

Peter stays perfectly still and quiet. Norman’s hand clamps around his jaw and shakes his head hard. Crying out into the gag, Peter tries to flinch away, but the man is too close. He can smell his cologne, which in reality probably costs more than Peter’s entire life. “You will look at me when I speak to you, understood?”

If Peter could spit in his face, he would. He jerks in his cuffs, his anger giving him the strength he needs for his defiance. Norman hits him for a second time. This time, in the eye. Peter has had enough experience to know it will swell.

“You’re lucky we still need you,” Norman says.

Peter glares, feeling sick enough to throw up as Norman pulls out another syringe. “Ready for round two?”

--------

The first location is a dead end. Tony checks it three times over to make sure he isn’t missing anything.

It’s been five hours.

“FRI. What’re the next coordinates?”

He doesn’t give himself the luxury to be afraid of what he might find.

--------

Peter wakes up screaming.

He doesn’t know why, at first. Only that he’s lying flat on a cold table, pinned and surrounded by strangers.

Then he feels the pain.

White hot. All consuming. Mind melting. It’s so intense that he doesn’t really comprehend where it’s coming from, or if he’ll be able to survive it. His muscles strain and stretch under the restraints, and then one of his hands breaks free all together. It lashes out, hitting the scientist closest and throwing him across the room. If Peter were more lucid he would hear the crunch of bone against the wall, or the yells of the others.

But he doesn’t.

His body clinging to freedom, his hand continues to fight desperately. He manages to hit away another scientist before three sets of hands press his arm down hard against the table. A sharp jab in his neck lets him know he’s been injected again. His limbs lose some strength, his mind fogging, but it’s not enough. Peter screams and fights. He cries.

Somewhere in the distance, a door is thrown open. Through the kaleidoscopic mess of his vision Peter sees Norman and cries harder. “S-stop-”

Norman’s hand closes around Peter’s neck and squeezes. “You don’t have a say over what happens to you. Do you understand? I own you!” He applies more pressure and Peter wonders distantly if his eyes will pop straight out of his head. “I. Own. You.”

Peter loses control over his body. His lungs stall in his chest. Only then does Norman let go, wiping his hand on his jacket. “Keep going,” he orders.

Peter is too exhausted to sob, darkness gathering around his vision. I’m going to die, he realizes.

Something hits his head hard, and he welcomes the escape with open arms.

--------

Seven hours. Tony’s tracked the three locations, all proving to be as useful as the last. His patience is slipping, his resolve shaken.

“FRI? I could really use a miracle right now.”

“Retrieving coordinates for the next location: an Oscorp storage facility in Staten Island.”

“Thanks. Send Happy the same.”

“Of course.”

Tony flies like his life depends on it. Because really, it does. If he loses Peter-

Stop, he chastises himself. Focus. It’s not over yet.

Fifteen minutes later, Tony lands hard enough to dent the cement under foot outside the storage facility. On the outside, his chances look bleak. Dark windows, no cars in the lot. “FRI, can you pick up any heat signatures?”

After a short pause, FRIDAY replies. “There are approximately ten heat signatures detected inside.”

“Oh god. Do any match Peter?”

“Yes, boss, it appears so.”

His legs turn to jelly. “Tell- tell Happy. I’m going in.”

“Sending a message to Happy Hogan.”

“Best point of entry?”

“The front door will be fine, sir.”

Tony follows FRIDAY’s prompts from the dark entrance to one of the building’s sublevels. Once close enough, he hears voices. Laughter, even. “FRI?” he whispers.

“The door to your left,” she supplies.

Tony wastes no time in blasting it off its hinges. Halted screams come from the smoking wreckage as Tony steps through. It appears to be some sort of staff room, a large group of men and women in lab coats sitting around a circular table. They stare at him with wide, disbelieving eyes.

“Spider-Man,” Tony demands. “Where the hell is he?”

No one answers. He fires a repulsor at the ceiling.

“Norman has him!” one of them yell, hands raised to shield her head. “Follow the corridor down to the end. You’ll- you’ll find him in there.”

Tony can hardly see straight in his relief. He backs out of the room, dislodging a drone from his suit to block their exit. “If any of you try to leave, this will shoot. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

He runs.

The end of the corridor.

Peter. Peter. Peter-

After confirmation from FRIDAY, Tony kicks down the door in question. His blood goes cold. Because it’s Peter- his kid- cuffed with his hands behind his back and a thick gag around his mouth. His head is tipped back, his eyes closed. He’s covered in so much blood that Tony has trouble seeing parts of him that are clean.

And beside him, Osborn.

He fires a repulsor at the man before his mind can catch up. It hits Osborn in the chest and he flies back, hitting the wall with a loud grunt and sliding down to the floor. Though painful, Tony steps past Peter’s lax body. He’s not sure if he’s awake. Or even alive.

“Wait!” Norman yells, raising his hands in defense. “You can’t- you can’t do this.”

“Like hell I can’t,” Tony growls, his palm growing hot. He raises it to Norman’s face. “You took my kid. You hurt him.”

“Peter’s life ceased being his own the moment he was bitten by my spider. I have the right to study him, to learn from what I created.”

“You’re an animal. I should kill you right now.”

“But you won’t,” Norman counters, his eyes glinting against the fire in Tony’s hand. “Because if you do, Peter will never forgive you. He’s good, Stark. Too good for you. And you know that.”

Tony clenches his jaw hard, his heart beating loud in his ears. He thinks of Peter sitting on a table in the lab, kicking his feet and laughing at a joke Tony had told. He thinks of the boy thumb wrestling with Happy and the cheesy birthday card he had made Tony last year.

“You’re right,” Tony says, lowering his hand. “I won’t kill you.”

Norman perks, his mouth curling.

“But you’re going to wish I had.”

And with that, Tony hits him across the face. Harder than he should. Osborn goes limp against the wall.

Behind him, Peter moans.

“Peter-”

Tony removes his faceplate and collapses at Peter’s feet. One of the boy’s eyes is open to a slit, the other swollen shut. When he connects with Tony his eyebrows draw together in confusion. Then, without further warning, he begins to cry.

“Hey, hey, woah. It’s okay kiddo. I’m here.” He reaches up and gently removes the gag from Peter’s mouth, the skin underneath it raw and chapped. “I’m here, buddy. Don’t cry.”

Peter doesn’t look any less comforted. He strains against his bindings. “Are you real?” he whispers, his voice cracked and strained. Only now does Tony see the dark bruising around the kid’s neck. The sight brings bile up his throat.

“I’m real,” he promises, reaching up his hands to card through Peter’s hair. “I’m here.”

Peter sobs again, going limp. Tony catches him against his chest and cradles him close. “They told- they told me they shot you,” Peter says. “They told me you were dead.”

Tears of his own well in Tony’s eyes. He presses his cheek into Peter’s hair. “I’m not dead,” he says, voice wavering. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Thought it was my fault,” Peter slurs. More of his weight dips into Tony’s chest as he goes quiet.

“Kid?” Tony shifts so he can see Peter’s face. His eyes are closed, his breaths short and laboured. “Damn it! Pete, can you hear me?”

Happy chooses this moment to arrive. He swings into the room, a pistol curled around his fingers and his eyes wider than Tony’s ever seen them. “Is he-?”

“Alive,” Tony chokes. “He was talking just a second ago. I don’t know what happened.”

“It looks like they tried to pull him apart.”

And it’s true.

“Call a med team. The police- the whole works. I need to get him out of this chair.”

“On it,” Happy says. His eyes linger on Peter in obvious distress before he flees from the room, pulling out his phone and barking out orders.

“Alright Petey. Hang tight.” Tony positions his limp body against the back of the chair, trying not to dwell on how unalive he looks. He ventures to Osborn’s body, retrieves a promising ring of keys, and returns back to Peter.

“I got you kid. I got you.” His hands are shaking too badly to fit the key in the small slot at the base of the cuff. He has to sit back on his heels and take ten measured breaths before he tries again. This time it works and Peter’s arms pop free.

Without the restraint, Peter’s body tips forward. With an aborted yell, Tony lunges forward to catch him. They end up in a tangled heap on the dirty floor, Peter’s head pillowed in his lap.

“Oh Pete. Oh god. W-wake up. It’s over now.”

Nothing. Above the bruises, there’s half a dozen needle marks in his neck.

“Peter? Come on, bud. Wake up.”

Wake up. Wake up.

He rocks the kid in his lap until help arrives, refusing even for a moment to let go.

-------

Peter realizes three things in quick succession when he wakes up.

First, it’s quiet, and the distinct lack of his spider sense is more than relieving. He’s safe, he realizes. Which two, means it’s over.

His vision struggles to keep up with his waking body but after a few long blinks the blurred medbay comes into sharper focus. He sees May’s purse, though she herself isn’t in the room. And with a stiff turn of his head, Peter comes to terms with thing number three.

Tony.

The man is slumped in a chair beside his bed, his head tipped back as he snores. The events of his rescue rush back into his head with such force it leaves him dizzy. Without further warning, tears leak out of his eyes.

Alive. He’s alive.

They both are.

As if Tony has a fifth sense of his own, he shifts in his sleep and his head dips. The jerky movement must be enough to wake him because within seconds, his eyes open. They connect with Peter fast, widening when he registers that Peter’s awake.

“Oh Pete,” he says, rubbing at his eyes and leaning forward. “What’s wrong? Are- are you okay bud?”

Peter lifts a heavy hand to wipe the moisture from his cheeks. “Sorry,” he whispers, trying for a smile. “Must be the drugs.”

The creases on Tony’s forehead smooth. He returns Peter’s smile, though some deep abiding concern rests in his eyes. “God, it’s good to see you awake. You gave us all a good scare.”

“Right,” Peter agrees, his strength already dwindling. He casts a sideway glance over at May’s purse. “Is she- is she okay?”

“She’s happy you’re safe. That you’re getting better. She just went to grab some food. She’ll be back real soon.”

Peter’s insides feel hollowed out. He thinks of Norman standing over him. I own you. “Oh. That’s good.”

Tony scoots closer in his chair. “How’re you feeling bud? Any pain?”

To Peter’s embarrassment, another tear leaks out of his eye. He catches it quickly and sucks in a shaky breath. “No.”

“You sure?”

Peter bites his lip. Stares at Tony’s worried face. “I really thought you were dead.”

Tony holds his breath and pulls absently at his fingers. “He was just trying to get in your head, Pete.”

“Yeah,” he laughs without humour. “Well, it worked.”

“Peter...”

“It’s just- the whole time I was thinking about everything I should’ve told you. When Ben died, I regretted- I regretted my last words, you know? Wish I said more.”

“Your uncle knew how much you loved him, kiddo.”

Peter swallows hard. “And do you?”

Tony blinks. “What?”

“Know,” Peter says, staring stubbornly at the wall. “That I love you? Because I never told you before and then it was too late. I was too- I don’t know. Scared, I guess. But I can’t be too late again. I have a second chance now and I want you to know.”

Silence. Peter can’t look. Maybe Tony got up and left-

Warmth. Arms circling his chest. Peter inhales sharply in his surprise, the tubes and wires hooking him up to the machines pinching. Oh god, he’s hugging me.

“I thought I lost you too,” Tony whispers over his shoulder. Peter is frozen. “When they dragged me out of that elevator and took you-” he chokes. “I thought-”

Peter closes his eyes. He’s tired and achy, his bones like lead under his skin. “I’m fine.”

“Let me finish.”

“Okay.”

Tony breathes in deeply, his chest expanding against Peter’s. “I love you too, Pete, is what I’m trying to say. So damn much. Since day one, really. And if you ever scare me like this again I swear I’ll lock you in a tower like goddamn Rapunzel.”

Peter’s glad that Tony can’t see his face. I love you too. Finally regaining strength, he wraps his arms around Tony’s shoulders to complete the embrace. It’s weak and broken but tangible. Real. “Thank you for saving me.”

“You did the same for me.”

They separate. Neither comment on their wet faces. “What happened to Norman?” Peter asks. It feels like his throat is closing.

Tony looks down at the floor. His hand had fallen from the hug to rest on Peter’s arm. He doesn’t let go, and Peter doesn’t want him to. “Prison. He won’t hurt you again, Pete. I promise you.”

He isn’t sure how the admission makes him feel. “Oh.”

His side twinges in pain. Something must cross over his face because Tony winces too, like the hurt is his own. “I’m so sorry, Pete.”

Peter leans back against his pillows, lightheaded all of a sudden, his energy far past spent. “I hate it when you apologize,” he murmurs.

“Pfft. Well, the feeling’s mutual.”

Peter smiles. He closes his eyes. “You gonna tap back out?” Tony asks gently.

He hardly finds the strength within himself to nod. Everything is catching up to him, a dark shadow of a nightmare. It’s over, he tries to remind himself. Tony is alive. May is safe. He loves you back. “Stay?”

“Always, Pete. I’m not moving a muscle.” As if to prove it, his thumb runs across Peter’s wrist, straight over the bandages covering the marks of his restraints. “You’re stuck with me.”

“Stuck with me too,” Peter slurs. He reaches out blindly until he finds Tony’s hand and grips it with as much strength as he can muster, which truthfully isn’t much. “Like a web.”

He drifts further, but is sure he can hear Tony’s quiet laugh, that he feels Tony’s lips press over his forehead.

“Go to sleep kiddo. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

And he will. Peter knows it.

Always.

#irondad #irondad fic #peter parker #tony stark #norman osborn #kidnapping #hurt/comfort #hurt peter parker #peter parker whump #protective tony stark #protective peter parker #tony stark acting as peter parkers parental figure #angst with a happy ending #gun violence

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lizamango · 3 years ago

Text

Finding You (Bucky Barnes x Reader) 4/?

A/N: Yay I’ve managed to bang out another chapter before I get too busy this weekend. This is seriously the slowest burn fic I have ever written!

Summary: You’ve been one of SHIELD’s top spies for years but what happens when the organisation you’ve put your trust in crumbles and Captain America gives you a mission to help him find his best friend? The last thing you expected to happen was to fall in love with your assignment and become best friends with a witch.

Taglist ~ just comment if you wanna be added

@buckylokisimp, @white-wolf-buckaroo, @austynparksandpizza, @markandlexies, @yaszx

Word Count: 3117

Masterlist

Chapter 1 ~ Chapter 2 ~ Chapter 3 ~

Warnings: cursing

Chapter Summary: Steve trusts you and you face the Winter Soldier

Chapter 4: IT WAS ALL A LIE

I wake up in a new car with Rogers driving.

“Where are we?” I ask groggily.

“Goin’ back to DC. Goin’ to someone I trust,” he responds keeping his eyes on the road.

“Didn’t realise you had friends. Other than me, of course,” I joke, trying to lighten the mood even though we almost got blown up.

“So we’re friends now, huh?” he says, playing along.

I shrug but it causes a pang in my side and I hiss at the pain.

“You alright?”

“I’ll be fine. Don’t have enhanced speedy healing but I’ll cope. Give me an ibuprofen and I’ll be good as new.” I sigh, staring out the window.

“You sure that’s not an act to distract me from the fact you called me Steve and not Rogers or Captain?” he says, teasing.

I roll my eyes dramatically. Of course he picked that up. “Slip of the tongue.”

“Whatever you say… friend. Pal. Buddy,” he chuckles, amused at his own joke. Like a grandpa.

“Oh my gosh, anyone ever tell you you’re really annoying?”

He quiets down and the mood shifts notably. More somber. “Someone did.”

I frown, I thought he didn’t have anyone special… The car comes to a stop and before I could ask for more, even though I know he wouldn’t give it, he gets out of the car.

“Where are we, really?”

“Trust me.” I do.

I follow him up the steps and he knocks on the door. I look around, suspicious and skeptical, the sound of the door opening brings my attention to the owner of the house. Huh, the guy I saw when I first picked the Captain up for that cursed mission.

“Hey, man,” Sam says in shock.

“I’m sorry about this. But we need a place to lay low.”

“Everyone we know is trying to kill us,” I add.

“Not everybody,” he steps aside and Steve and I walk in. “Bathroom’s through that hallway and there’s a spare room right across from it… I’ll go and… make you something to eat. If you guys do that sort of thing.”

I chuckle softly and Steve lets me go wash up first. I splash water in my face and take a breath, something I couldn’t do until now. I stare hard at my reflection and I look as lost and tired as I feel. I find a small towel and take it with me, sitting on the bed and drying off. Steve freshens up next and goes to sit in front of me.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” I respond a little too quickly.

“What’s going on?”

“I guess… SHIELD’s been my life for so long. I thought I knew what it was… that it did good, helped people. I thought that everything I did, every mission I filled was the right thing, the good thing. But what if it wasn’t? Whoever gave those orders could have been using me. Using us all. If we’re the bad guys then… the people I’ve… crossed off… they could have been good guys.” I put the towel down and sigh. “I owe you, Rogers.”

He shakes his head. “It’s okay.”

“I really thought… HYDRA was gone.”

“Well, yeah so did I, I killed their leader.”

“No… there’s something else.”

I know he’s frowning as he looks at me. “What?”

“I told you about Romanoff’s mission in Odessa… after that I was put undercover. Two years, deep. As a scientist researching the super soldier serum; from Romanoff’s debrief that seemed like the best option for a cover story. We had to find out about these threats that came outta nowhere. HYDRA picked me up. We never even considered them, I didn’t know it was them until later so I told Fury. At first… he thought it was just pockets, ya know? Thugs. People who wanted to take the reputation HYDRA had to scare competition. They had a secret… I kept coming up with nothing in my three-monthly check ins but I felt like I was close. Anyone interested in the serum had to know something, right? Then we found you and… I don’t know, maybe if Fury didn’t pull me out, I would have found the Winter Soldier and Fury wouldn’t be dead.”

“You didn’t know. No one did. These aren’t thugs. They’re organised and have been for a long time to be able to infiltrate SHIELD like they have,” he says sternly.

“If it was the other way around, and it was down to me to save your life, now you be honest with me, would you trust me to do it?”

“I would now. You’re not a bad person, Y/N. I can see that, I don’t have to know you that well to know that. And I’m always honest,” he adds, causing a slight smile to appear on my face.

“Well, you seem pretty chipper for someone who just found out that killing the Red Skull did nothing to stop HYDRA.”

“Well,” he leans back on the chair. “I guess I just like to have a face to put on the people I’m up against.”

“Breakfast is ready…” Sam says. “If you… eat.”

“I like him,” I say.

“So do I.”

We stand and follow Sam to see the eggs, bacon and toast laid out on the table. “This is so sweet, thank you, Sam.”

He smiles. “I wanna help.” And I know it’s about providing us with a meal.

“We-we can’t ask that of you,” I say, knowing he’s not referring to cooking breakfast for us.

“You don’t have to because I’m offering.”

Steve nods. “Alright.”

“You’re just a civilian, right now,” I object.

“So are you, disgraced SHIELD agent.”

I huff, that’s fair.

Steve updates Sam on what has happened as I eat the breakfast so kindly prepared.

“So, the question is, who at SHIELD could launch a domestic missile strike?”

“Pierce,” Steve answers.

“Who happens to be sitting on top of the most secure building in the world,” I saw before having a bite of buttered toast. Yum.

“But he’s not working alone, Zola’s algorithm was on the Lemurian Star.”

Thinking back, I go through all the names of the hostages on the ship. “So was Jasper Sitwell,” the only field officer on a ship of technicians and scientists.

Steve frowns. “So the question is how do the two most wanted people in Washington kidnap a SHIELD officer in broad daylight?”

“The answer is, you don’t,” Sam says then he places a file on the table.

“What’s this?”

“Call it a resume.”

“Is this Bakhmala? The Khalid Khandil mission. That was you?” I say looking at the picture. “You didn’t say he was a pararescue,” I say to Steve. “I heard they couldn’t bring choppers in because of the RPGs. What did you use? A stealth chute?”

“No. These,” Sam hands us the thicker file.

“I thought you said you were a pilot?” Steve says, surprised.

“I never said pilot.”

I finish my breakfast as they think of a plan to retrieve the… wings. The boys can handle that while I enjoy these eggs and locate Jasper Sitwell.

Steve kicks Sitwell through a rooftop door. “Tell me about Zola’s algorithm.” I follow after Steve, silently.

“Never heard of it,” the traitor says, out of breath and stumbling backwards.

“What were you doing on the Lemurian Star?”

“I was throwing up, I get sea sick.” This smartass. He almost falls back but Steve catches him, grabbing him by his shirt. He calms down and smirks. “Is this little display meant to insinuate that you’re gonna throw me off the roof? Coz it’s really not your style, Rogers.”

“You’re right. It’s not.” Steve smooths Sitwell’s jacket down. “It’s her’s.” He steps aside and I smile, kicking him off the roof as he screams. “Were you on the helicarrier when Barton tried to shoot us down?”

“What?” I say, caught off guard, as I stare down and the falling man.

“You said I had two more guesses.”

I chuckle, remembering what he was talking about. “No, I was on a short vacation by then. One more guess.”

“Where did you go?” he asks out of curiosity.

“Classified.”

“So it was a mission?”

“Classified,” I smirk. “Fine you got it outta me, I was at –“

Sam comes up with a still screaming Jasper who is dropped behind us.

“To be continued,” Steve comments as we approach the agent.

“Zola’s algorithm is a program for choosing Insight’s targets.”

“What targets?”

“You. The TV anchor in Cairo, the Under Secretary of Defense, a high school valedictorian in Iowa city, Bruce Banner, Hank Pym, anyone who’s a threat to HYDRA. Now… or in the future.”

“The future?” Steve repeats. “How could it know?”

Sitwell chuckles. “How could it not?”

“The 21st century is a digital book,” he stands up, meeting Steve’s eyes. “Zola taught HYDRA how to read it. Zola’s algorithm evaluates people’s past to predict their future.”

“What then?” I ask, frowning.

He looks at me as if he’s noticed what he has revealed. “Pierce is gonna kill me…”

“What then?” I repeat.

“The Insight helicarriers cross people off that list. A few million at a time.”

Well Shit.

We get into a car, dragging Sitwell with us and we drive to the Triskelion.

“Insight launches in 16 hours, we’re cutting this a little close, fellas.”

Steve explains our plan of action which to no one’s surprise, Sitwell objects to. Before he can continue his rant there is a thud on the roof and an arm pulls him out through the car window.

I watch after him, seeing the metal arm of the Winter Soldier grabbing a gun from his holster. Moving fast, I slip through the two front seats and into Rogers’ lap, pulling his head forward to protect him as the Soldier shoots from the back seat to the front. Before the bullets reach us, Steve pulls on the break, causing the Soldier to fall forwards. Grabbing one of the guns, I aim but we get hit by a SHIELD Humvee from behind, causing me to drop the gun and the car to push forward toward the Asset. I fish for the gun, grabbing it as the steering wheel is ripped out of the car and Sam’s hands.

“Shit!”

I shoot after the Asset but he jumps off and onto the Humvee as we glide through the road, no way to control the car. We roll and Steve grabs each of us as we surf on the detached car door. The Soldier launches a bazooka at us but Steve pushes me away as I start running for cover so he takes the shot.

I dodge gunfire and moving cars, jumping off the bridge and using a grappling hook to safely get myself down and run but seeing his shadow, I stop just before the bridge and start shooting until he takes cover. I move to a cable car as the pissed off Asset rains bullets at my previous location. I shoot back and run as the bullets chase me.

As a diversion I record myself speaking on my communicator and play it on loop, placing it behind a row of cars as I take cover. I watch as he rolls a grenade to the source of the sound and it explodes so I jump up, using a car as a step up and kicking him in the face. I wrap my legs around him as I use my retractable steel bracelet to wrap around his neck as a garrotte but he gets his hands through and walks backwards, slamming me against a car. He gets his hands on me and throws to off of him and into another car. Geez. Before he shoots at me I grab an electric disc off my bracelet, throwing it at his arm to temporarily disable it as I run for my life.

“Get out of the way! Get away!” I yell at the panicking civilians then I feel a bullet pierce right through me. Stunned, I stumble backwards, resting on a car. I hear the soldier land not too far from my position and our eyes meet briefly as he aims at me. Steve runs in, giving me a chance to get away. Finally. Fuck me, why did I have to be the one to deal with him? As the two fight, I manage to get a hold of a dropped gun and slowly make my way back to them.

Steve flips the soldier over whose mask falls off as he lands. He turn around and I notice Steve’s stance stiffens.

“Bucky?”

“Who the hell’s Bucky?” the Asset asks. Sam kicks him, sending him flying but he’s too distracted, shaken to go after him. His eyes go wild, confused and lost as he looks at the mask now on the ground. He takes out a gun, aiming for Steve and instead of shooting directly at him I purposely target for behind him.

I recognize the STRIKE team’s vehicles coming for us and there’s no where to run. Agents put handcuffs on me and walk to the their vehicle, doing the same to Steve and Sam, confiscating their weapons and loading us up.

“What happened back there, Steve?” I ask. “Isn’t Bucky… your childhood friend?” I recall from reading the history books. He was the only Howling Commando to give his life in combat and was put on the SHIELD Wall of Valor as an honorary agent.

“It was him. He looked right at me like he didn’t even know me,” he says sadly.

“How is that even possible? It was like 70 years ago,” Sam asks.

“Zola. Bucky’s whole unit was captured in 1943, Zola experimented on him. Whatever he did, helped Bucky survive the fall.”

“Zola did it to hurt you,” I say. “Using your best friend as their secret weapon, if they ever needed him to fight you. That’s why they chose him to experiment on…”

“Wow, classic evil guy tactic,” Sam comments.

“None of that is your fault, Steve,” I say softly.

“Even when I had nothing, I had Bucky.”

“Y/N, you’re bleeding badly,” Sam notices. “We need to get a doctor here. If we don’t put pressure on that wound, she’s gonna bleed out here in the truck.”

The masked agent pulls out an electrified baton, causing Sam to stop talking and jump back. They don’t use it on him though as they flip it in their hand to hit their partner who groans but passes out before he could do anything.

“Ah, that thing was squeezing my brain. Who’s this guy?” Hill removes her helmet.

“Long story,” I whisper. It feels like when I talk it hurts more.

Hill accepts that and uses a laser cutter to cut a hole in the floor and we slip out.

“I have a car waiting,” Hill says. “There are still agents on the right side.”

We arrive at a dam and Steve helps me down from the SUV, allowing me to lean on him as we follow Hill.

“GSW, she’s lost at least a pint,” Hill yells.

“Maybe two,” Sam adds.

“Let me take her!” A doctor I don’t recognize says, meeting us.

“She’ll wanna see him first.” I frown, who could I possibly wanna see right now, apart from a doctor to stitch me up?

Leading us into a room, there was no way I could have expected it. Fucking Fury, of course he’s alive.

“About damn time,” he mumbles then lists all his injuries.

“You’re too stubborn to die,” I say as the doctor sits me down to attend to my gunshot.

“Why all the secrecy?” Steve asks.

“Any attempt on the Director’s life had to look successful,” Maria explains.

“Can’t kill you if you’re already dead. Besides, I didn’t know who to trust.”

“So we just had to get targeted by the Winter Soldier for you to trust us?” I ask.

“I trusted you, that’s why I had you go to the apartment. I knew you’d find the truth, along with Rogers.”

“Well, you’re really gonna hate what we’ve found out,” Steve says.

“Alexander Pierce is the head of HYDRA,” I say, ripping off the band aid.

Fury nods slowly, processing. “That man declined a Nobel Peace Prize. He said that peace wasn’t an achievement. It’s a responsibility,” he scoffs bitterly. “See, it’s stuff like this that gives me trust issues.”

“We have to stop the launch,” I say.

“I don’t think the Council is accepting my calls anymore,” Fury states. He opens a briefcase with three drives in it.

“What’s that?” Sam asks.

“Once the helicarriers reach 3,000 feet, they’ll triangulate with Insight satellites, becoming fully weaponized,” Hill briefs.

“We need to breach those carriers and replace their targeting blades with our own,” Fury adds.

“One of two won’t cut it, we need to link all three for this to work. If even one of those ships remains operational, a whole lot of people are gonna die.”

Fury starts on his plan to rebuild SHIELD but Steve has none of it, interrupting. “We’re not just taking down the carriers, Nick. We’re taking down SHIELD.”

“SHIELD had nothing to do with this!” Fury defends.

“You gave me this mission. This is how it ends. SHIELD’s been compromised, you said so yourself. HYDRA grew right under your nose and nobody noticed.”

“We’re meeting in this cave because I noticed.”

“How many paid the price before you did? You didn’t trust Y/N when she said she was close to something. If she had stayed, you would have realized how important that mission would be. You have to stop underestimating people, Nick. Your enemies as well as your friends.”

“Look, I didn’t know about Barnes.”

“Even if you did, would you have told me? Or would you have compartmentalized that too? SHIELD, HYDRA… it all goes.”

“He’s right,” Hill agrees.

“And you? You grew up in SHIELD. Trained, educated…” Fury asks me.

I shake my head. “This is the right thing to do. It was all a lie.”

“Well, looks like you’re giving the orders now, Cap.”

I find Steve on the bridge overlooking the water.

“I found the council woman. Hill had a photostatic veil ready for me to use…” I choose not to acknowledge his solemn look until he chose to.

“The other person… the one that called me annoying, was Bucky,” he starts referring to our earlier conversation. “He’s all I had. All I ever had. The day I thought I lost him was the worst day of my life.”

I place a hand on his back. “Do you think you can save him?”

“I have to try. I owe it to him to try.”

“And if you can’t? What if… he doesn’t let you?”

“He will. Suit up, it’s time.” He starts to walk and I frown.

“You’re not fighting in that are you?”

“No. If you’re gonna fight a war, you gotta wear a uniform.”

💖

Thanks for reading! Have a new fic idea but should probably get more of this one done before I start writing two at once but I’m so excited for it 🤩🤩😭

Chapter 5

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers #platonic #slowburn #steve rogers x platonic!reader #winter soldier #captain america #sam wilson #mavel #marvel fic #mcu #series rewrite

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love-peterparker · 4 years ago

Text

In Extremis || Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: After the reveal of Spider-Man’s secret identity and the release of Quentin Beck’s murder video, there isn’t a lot going right for Peter Parker. But he has you.

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings: Cursing, protests and rallies, mentions of murder, a gun that is never shot, and some hair description for Y/N for plot purposes (but it should still be generic enough).

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: I’m first a Captain America and Agent Carter fan, and I wanted to recreate what makes their relationship so special, but with Peter and Y/N… ‘cuz I also love Peter Parker. I really loved writing this, and I hope you enjoy it.

Also, thanks to @marvelouspeterparker, @sinisterspidey (she actually has a blurb called I’ll Follow You and it builds off of Spider-Man’s identity reveal) and @stuckonspidey for answering my anon asks for general writing tips and Peter’s character. And @spideyspeaches with her kind words after reading one of the final drafts of this fic. Lastly, a special thanks to @peterbenjiparker encouraging me with this fic and for making me so emotional with her series Invisible String (Read this!... but only if your heart can take it) that I needed to write something. This story has nothing to do with it, but it does make some small generic references to her fic, and I would like to think that Y/N and Peter are soulmates in this story.

***

This takes place in a universe where a FFH-esque identity reveal happens when Y/N and Peter are young adults.

***

This fucking city didn’t deserve him.

Peter rarely admits it, but you say it all the time. When you hit a dead end in the Avenger’s database. When checking for your gun before leaving another safehouse. When reaching for him in the dark of night.

This fucking city didn’t deserve him.

It had been over a year since Peter’s identity as Spider-Man was revealed and the dubious video of Quentin Beck’s murder was released. But it felt like a lifetime.

These two Peter problems were like ivy. They rooted, twisted, and spread. Winding into chokeholds around their victims.

But heroes knew how to play with fire.

Peter’s identity was dealt with in a straightforward fashion. Plenty villains who would do anything to exact revenge on Spider-Man, but they would have to find Peter Parker and identify his loved ones first. And for someone like Peter? Well, it was going to take some time.

To you, Peter was lifegiving. A shining ray of golden hope. You fell to sleep and rose to press kisses into his face. To cherish and hold. To share tears. But to the world, or even New York City? He was a nobody, one who couldn’t even hold a steady job.

You all worked fast while the wicked played catch-up. The Avengers searched and wiped all, but ultimately little personal information Peter had on the internet, as well anything that might connect him to your shared inner circle. Everyone was given an Avenger’s signal watch. And both you and May opted to move as a precaution. May to Brooklyn. You to Avenger’s Tower.

The case of Quentin Beck’s murder was a much more grinding process. Through polished superhero reputations, the lawyers secured an Avenger’s Tower house arrest during court proceedings. An overwhelming amount of evidence in Peter’s favor was gathered. Press conferences were held. Speeches were given. And when it all seemed like it was too much for too long, you and Peter would lie in bed, arms and legs entangled, whispering that everything would turn out all right. Good will win. You just had to keep going.

It was taxing, but not impossible. And just when you all thought you were pulling at the end of the thread with the jury in your favor, the ground beneath you crumbles into nothingness. You spiral and crash into a labyrinth, lush and high-walled. Maybe this was the way out- oh wait, you’ve been here- or have you? You all turn and turn only to face a new dead end. A new set of incriminating videos were released. Spider-Man’s videos took the spotlight, but videos of Wanda and Bucky were also revealed. The streets of New York bustled in whispers.

Can we really trust these heroes? What if these videos are the truth?

And what happens when these powerful people think they are right when they are wrong?

When public protests against Earth’s heroes sprouted and jury members started to disappear, it was clear that the whoever or whatever was behind this had greater motives and powerful allies. It was time to buy time.

Everyone had tried to convince Peter to go into hiding somewhere else. Anywhere else. He had enough super-friends where anywhere was possible. Lay low while everyone else above ground scrambled to unweave this massive web of lies. But Peter was infuriatingly adamant that New York, regardless of her wavering loyalties, was his to protect.

So two months ago, he started bouncing around New York City, investigating when he could, and making polarizing headlines with every swing he took.

You tried to continue as if Peter was still by your side. After being terminated from your junior journalist job for “suspect ties to Spider-Man,” Spider-Man became your mission. You originally attended press conferences and rallies as moral support, but after Peter’s first awkward mumbles of a speech, it was painfully clear that he needed a new voice. The public herself needed a normal person who interacted with superheroes. Who better than Spider-Man’s girlfriend? But after the last kidnapping attempt and the Avengers’ numbers shrinking, it was clear that this wouldn’t last. The world now knew who you were too.

The thick ivy had caught up, and you were on fire.

But to hell with it because there was no universe where you would be leaving this nightmare without him. So the next time you looked in the mirror, you donned short red hair and heavy eyeliner.

Days were spent questioning possible witnesses. Nights were spent in the light of a computer. And when you could barely drag yourself to continue, moments were spent staring at your beautiful boy’s picture. He needed you.

You had only heard from him twice since he went into hiding, though there were a few times answered unknown number calls would lead to abstract rustling and distinct web shooter noises. To those, you always whispered “I love you,” before hanging up.

That was until last night, when you noticed small slip of paper in the crack of the window of the safehouse you had been staying at. Only a time and an address were written, in messy, but undeniably Parker script.

You spent the next day visiting arbitrary places in the Bronx, trying to determine if anyone was following you and collecting items in an unsuspecting backpack.

It was a balancing act between comfort and practicalities. An extra stealth suit. A waterproof jacket you both shared. Protein bars. Extra web fluid and a first-aid kit. A hefty wad of cash, just in case. And in the smallest pocket, things to help him in the darkest days to come. Letters from you, May, Ned, and your other friends. A few packs of gummy bears. And a picture of you and him, laughing in Central Park on one of your many dates. Sunlight casting halos on your heads. Bright. Carefree. Brimming with love.

Your heart cried and cried and cried, begging for those days.

But they were gone. And as much as you didn’t want to admit it, so were the people in that picture.

You travelled to the building location and made your way to the rooftop. Rows and rows of white sheets were hung, all whipping in the wind to dry.

A small smile graced your lips. You had to hand it to him. He was smart.

You folded yourself into one of the corners of the rooftop, gun in hand and waited. Eerie silence slowly lulling you to…

You woke up to the soft footsteps, sleepy eyes registering a shadowy figure behind one of the bedsheets.

“Hans?” you whispered, pointing your gun with a finger on the trigger.

“Leia,” the figured replied, equally hushed. The shadow lifted the curtain. It took a second to register, but it was really him. You raced towards each other, quick hold each other, beaming. Today, you existed in the same place at the same time.

“That was so stupid. I can’t believe you got me to do that,” you laughed, pressing your face into him, holding him tightly as if he could disappear at any moment.

“Oh, come on, you loved it!” he quipped. You hummed in appreciation.

“True, but I love you more.” His eyes brightened at your confession, pink dusting his cheeks.

“I know.” You shook your head, smiling at his response before turning your head and taking in who he had become. Gone were the luxurious curls, replaced with a buzzcut. A pair of fake glasses perched on his nose in further attempts to conceal his identity. Hallowed eyes. His skin tinted gray from the stress. You ran your fingers through the fuzz on his head, massaging his scalp. A sigh escaped his lips, eyes fluttering shut, with hands reaching to caress yours.

“You cut your hair.”

“You did too.” His fingers danced in the ends of your own tresses. A sad smile furnished your face.

“It had to be done,” you replied, before pressing your lips to his cheek and gently removing yourself from his embrace to get your laptop. “We need to get started. We’ve found a lot since you left.”

With his head on your shoulder, fingers laced with yours, and your laptop on your lap, you recounted the on-going investigation to him. The deep web that just kept going and going. Your theories and suspects. And when that was done, you kept talking. How Aunt May and his friends were fine but missing him. How the remaining Avengers were fairing. Peter was oddly quiet, sharing only a few thoughts here and there, but you attributed it to his weariness.

As the sun continued to dip, the silences between sentences stretched, but you mustered more words. As if your sentences were the delicate string that grounded him to you.

“Y/N,” he interrupted. You looked at him and hummed in reply. He began playing with your fingers, eyes never meeting your own. “I love you more than I ever I thought I could, and I’m really thankful for everything you’ve done. And you’ve done so much. Like, I don’t know if I would have even made it this far without you, but here you are, and well, you can’t keep doing this.” You cocked your head, before shaking your head, hair rustling.

“What? Peter, we are getting somewhere! I just need to visit the-“ He lets go of your hand, fingers clenching into trembling fists.

“No, no more visits. No more investigating. This can’t be your life. When this started, we thought there was a way out. But it’s been over a year. Clearly whoever or whatever is doing this won’t stop until we’re all gone. This may never stop. I can’t have you throwing away your life for me. Hell, I don’t even know when I’ll see you aga-“

“Peter,” you cut him off, your voice pitched lower in concern, “Where is this coming from? We’re gonna make it. It is just a matter of-”

“I can’t give you what you deserve! I’m Spider-Man, so we don’t get to have a house and two kids! We get this-, this fucking disaster! I live like this because I have to. I don’t get a choice. And you shouldn’t be stupid enough where you are doing the same thing!”

Your mouth fell open, ready to spit back poison when he looked at you. It was in his eyes. Behind the falling tears and redness was the glint of insecurity that Peter had always carried. This was the child whose parents died. The teenager who didn’t stop his Uncle Ben from getting killed. Who held Tony Stark in his last moments. The man who was on the run.

The hero who would never stop giving to a world who would never stop taking.

Your thoughts frenzied. If you held on to him too tightly, he would resist. The more he would thrash, determined to save you while slowly sacrificing himself until there was nothing left. Your brain was frozen, so your heart gave you the words-

“Marry me.”

Peter’s eyes widen before retracting into a tight furrow, scrunching his nose.

“What?! No! Did you not hear anything I just said-“

“I’m not leaving you. I will never leave you. The one thing you never get to doubt in the world is us. So, I’m gonna ask you again; will you,” you took his hand, went to one knee, and let your voice soften as you held his gaze, “Peter Parker, marry me?”

You both bathed in silence. His chocolate doe eyes boring straight into yours, searching for truth. The thought that maybe you had gone about this the wrong way started to crawl into your mind, but then a smile slowly creeped onto his face, bright red with blush. More salt-water pooled in his eyes. He pulled you into a near lung-constricting embrace, smothering wet kisses into every inch of your face. Mine. Mine. Mine. You could practically hear his thoughts as you basked in each kiss. I missed you. I love you. And oh my god, you’re here to stay.

“What did I ever-, I have no idea know what I ever did to ever deserve you.” A smirked formed on your lips.

“Is that a yes?” The gold stars in his eyes shined at your playfulness. There was the man you always loved.

“Yes, yes, oh god yes. I do, Mrs. Parker,” he said pulling you in for a passionate kiss. And you both stayed there, melting into the ground beneath you. Breathing each other in as moments passed. Tender “I love you’s” flowing generously from both of your lips. As if the world had vanished and all that existed was you and him, and him and you, and this understanding that this, this was a love until death do you part.

Peter was the one to break the string of kisses, leaving you to chase his lips before touching his forehead with your own. His breath hot on your face. “I- , if you go to my lab there is a secret compartment. In my desk. The code is your birthday. I was going to ask you myself, but then, well… this.” You chuckled as he stumbled on his words.

“I’ll get it as soon as I can.” You both leaned in to close the gap again when a cacophony of sirens and lights echoed in the streets below.

Frustration filled Peter’s eyes as he sat up. “Shit. I-, I gotta go. Are you gonna be okay?” You let out a shallow breath, but quickly forced a smile.

“Go get’em.” And with the whip of his webs, he was gone.

You sat there for a moment, taking in the new quiet. Your fingers graced your lips, still warm with the memory of his. A lightness had settled in your chest, and with every breathe you could feel it pulse stronger.

Because no matter what it took, no matter how long the wait, there was two things for certain.

He was going to protect the city. And you were going to save your husband.

#In Extremis #peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker fluff #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker imagine #peter parker one shot #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n

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