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localplaguenurse · 6 months ago

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What Could Go Wrong?

Mothman Dottore X Fem Reader Smut (Kinktober Week 3)

Give it up for week three! FINALLY I write Dottore smut after two years jfc. Harpyttore was very tempting, but part of the challenge is that I can’t write anything I’ve already read in another fic. So Mothman.

WARNINGS: Moths, inaccurate/inappropriate use of moth facts, scent kink (?), mating/in heat, I think this one is actually pretty chill compared to the last two, more silly I think

Minors DNI

“I know you’re smarter than this,” you hear your lab partner and best friend remark, “you have to know this is stupid, right?”

You finish loading your film into the kamera and delicately put the spare film back in your bag with your notebook, your pencil case, lamp, fire starting kit, jasmine oil, jar of honey, and a vile wrapped up in cloth and secured in a wooden box. There are other supplies in the bag, but these are absolutely essential for your task tonight. The little box is especially important.

“You can’t honestly believe there is a man sized moth living in the forest,” they continue as you take inventory of your gear.

“I’m skeptical too,” you say, “but can I call myself a lepidopterist if I pass this up? Or even just an entomologist?”

“You even admit it’s bullshit!” “Hey, I said I was skeptical, but not why,” you state. “Do I believe in a man sized moth? No. Do I believe there is a large species of moth living deep in the Dharma Forest that has yet to be properly discovered and identified? That’s more likely.”

“Even then, the driyoshes who came screaming about seeing the moth admitted later that it was probably just a large bird of sorts.”

You close your bag up. “You can just say you’re not coming with me,” you tell them, “you can just say you don’t believe it and don’t want to come, but you don’t have to talk to me like I’m dumb.”

“I just don’t want you getting eaten by tigers while you’re out there.” “I know which paths to avoid, and I’m pretty sure the driyoshes were on one of the safer ones.”

Your friend shakes their head in defeat. “I can’t convince you otherwise, can I?” “Nope.”

They pinch the bridge of their nose. “Just… explain the thought process behind what you’re bringing.”

You smile. “Okay, so the kamera, the notebook and my camping supplies are self explanatory. I’m camping out there for the next few days, and I need actual proof this thing exists.”

“Okay.”

“The lamp is for navigating in the dark, and the fire kit is for camping out in the forest,” you continue, “but they also double as sources of light and heat, which can attract moths.”

They nod along.

“Jasmines are a commonly liked flower among moths,” you say, “so I figured the smell of jasmine oil would attract them. Honey is a food source.”

“And your source for that?”

“Adult moths primarily consume nectar or sugary substances if they have mouths,” you state, “especially the death’s-head hawkmoth. They actually create a squeaking noise similar to queen bees that allow them to sneak into hives and eat their honey. Not that I think this is a death’s-head, but it can’t hurt.”

“And that little box you snagged from the Amurta labs?”

“You make it sound like I stole it,” you say. “I have permission to use it.”

“Well, what is it?”

“...” You sigh. “As a last resort… I’m packing a vial of distilled moth pheromones.”

At this, your partner’s eyes widen and they bury their face in their hands, embarrassed for you. “Like mating pheromones?”

“Yes, like mating pheromones.”

“Okay, cool, interesting,” they say, “very important question though; what the fuck are you going to do if a horny, man sized moth swarms you thinking you’re a potential mate?”

“That… is a bridge I will cross when I get there.”

“Are you going to–”

“I’m not going to have sex with the giant moth,” you quickly interrupt, “I don’t even know how that could happen.”

“It’s a man sized moth, anything is possible.”

“I’m not that dedicated to my research,” you state, face burning.

“Whatever, just… be safe, and don’t do anything stupid.”

“I’ll only be three days,” you tell them, “I’ll be back before you know it.”

You heave as you lift your bag up, and offer your partner a smile.

“What’s the worst that can happen?”

—

You’re thankful the moths seem more interested in your light and the honey you set out, but the stray little males still flutter up to you as you eat. You gently swat the fortieth one away, and two more come looking for the fertile female they’re smelling. You swat them away as well, ad infinitum.

At some point in your trip to your designated camping spot, the vial of moth pheromones had broken and leaked out of the box you kept it in, seeping into your clothes. The vial wasn’t that large, but by the great wisdom given to the researchers who made it, was it ever potent. It’s so potent, in fact, that there are several different breeds of moth trying to mate with the clothes you hung up to dry. You were hoping and praying the rain that suddenly came down last night would have helped wash away some of the smell, but no matter how much water you wrung from them, the pheromones are still noticeable to every moth in the vicinity.

Your pajamas weren’t too affected and dried quickly, but clearly they still smell if the moths are still trying to get your attention. You’d wear the clothes from yesterday, but they’re just dirty in general and not ideal for sleep. It’s not like you’re getting much sleep, though. The flapping of hundreds of moths is getting annoying. On the bright side, at least you have something interesting to tell your partner when you get back to the Akademiya.

You finish up your little meal and begin tidying up. You pack away your dirty dishes while moths continue to harass you. Yeah, this was probably a really dumb idea, trying to hunt down a big ass moth. You’ll pack up and head back home tomorrow morning, still being swarmed by moths.

You manage to shoo the moths out of your tent before you secure the flap. You sigh and crawl into your sleeping bag. You shut your eyes, listening to the fluttering wings and little chirps.

Wait, chirps? Moths don’t squeak unless they’re trying to throw off predators like bats, or they’re trying to steal honey from bees undetected. As you sit up, you can hear the squeaking is getting louder, and the flapping of little wings is growing faster, more frantic.

You hesitantly peak out of your tent to see swarms squealing and screeching as they begin to escape into the night sky. Astonished, you step outside and look up. There are so many they nearly blot out the light of the moon, still squeaking in absolute terror. Your blood runs cold. It makes sense that once one moth lets out the alarm of a predator, others would follow, but with this many moths still drowning in the pheromones staining your clothes? This many moths in general?

You get your answer when a massive, solid shape blocks out the moon, and like a divine plague, the moths go into a desperate and swarming frenzy, pelting into your body and your face as they frantically make their escape. You drop to the ground and cover your eyes and mouth as the storm rages. You can only imagine how this looks from the outside. You wonder how far the eclipse of frightened bugs can be seen.

You lift your head up when the flaps quiet down, and the squeaks grow distant, and you’re no longer being violently bumped into. You look up to see clouds of moths literally eclipsing the moon and disappearing among the stars in the sky. You stand, looking around your campsite, at the surrounding treeline. Something is horribly wrong, what was that big thing in the sky? You only saw it briefly, but it was much larger than any man. There’s no way, it can’t be–

You snap around when you hear rustling in the shrubbery behind you. You swear you see something move in the shadows but it disappears too quickly to get a grasp on it. You try to recall the story of the monster the driyoshes told. It was a large, shadowy winged beast, and the only other thing they saw before they bolted were a pair of big, red eyes.

You dive for your pack, pulling everything out until your fingers make contact with the kamera. You yank it out and stand, eyes darting around at every little noise and movement. Then it’s quiet, and it stays quiet. You look up at the sky, and you can’t see the moths anymore.

A twig snaps behind you. You whip around and hit the button on the kamera. The flash blinds the red eyed creature, and it snarls and covers its face with a black arm. You scream and stumble back, falling on your ass and attempting to scramble away.

It’s not a man sized moth, it’s a moth man.

He stands tall, black wings with pale blue patterns along the edge flying open in defence. Black fluff covers his shoulders and chest, and though his arms and legs, clawed and covered in fine little hairs, are black, his torso is primarily pale flesh coloured, as is his face. His scowling face is surprising human, save for the pointed teeth and large, glowing red eyes. His hair is pale blue, like the patterns on his wings, and the feathery antennae sprouting from the top are black.

You get a much better look at his features when he descends upon you, pinning you beneath his barely humanoid form, claws grasping at your wrists and holding them down to the ground. You feel shivers run up your spine as he stares at you, antennae twitching. He tilts his head, and leans in closer to your face. You close your eyes tight and turn your face away, scared he’s going to bite your face off.

You’re surprised when instead, he curls his body so he can rest his head on your chest, His antennae brush against your neck, and begin shivering. You squirm at the ticklish feeling. Then his wings begin to shake, and he lets out a deep groan as the rest of his body shudders. He lifts his head, lips pulled into a large grin that borders on predatory as he just stares.

“Oh… how lovely,” he purrs, “I can’t recall the last time I had the chance to mate.”

Your eyes widen, skipping over the fact this man-thing speaks common and jumping right to the meaning behind his words. “What?!”

He chuckles. “Your scent,” he clarifies, “it’s strong enough that it has brought almost every mature male moth to your location, myself included. But I know that’s not your natural scent, is it?”

You nervously shake your head.

“Of course not, you’re human,” he says. “And you’re one of those Akademiya students. That’s how you acquired those pheromones, no?”

“Y… Yes.”

“And you know what they do, don’t you?”

“I-I’m a lepidopterist,” you tell him, “I p-primarily study moths. I know what the pheromones do.”

Blood rushes to your face when the monster nuzzles his cheek against yours. His breath fans over your ear, and you question the flutter in your stomach when you hear the rasp in his voice.

“Then I have to wonder what your intentions were…”

You recall your roommate asking what you’re going to do if you encounter a giant horny moth, and you stating you would not fuck the giant moth. Well… he’s not really a full moth, is he? He’s pretty humanoid, oddly handsome at that, too, and is a self aware being. He’s into you, so… fuck it, why not. It’s not like you promised you wouldn’t have sex with a moth person, just no giant moths.

“I-It was intended as a last resort to see if you were real,” you say, “but accidents happen. Might as well m-make the most of it, haha…”

The moth just laughs. He lets go of one of your wrists and grabs the front of your shirt. With one pull, he rips it open. You squeak in surprise as the cool night air hits your skin. Rough, almost scaled hands grasp your breasts, and he trills at the squish of your flesh. You whine when he presses his body against you, slotting between your legs with willing ease.

“So soft,” he purrs, “so warm. Though I prefer my solitude away from humans, I must admit your body heat is divine.”

You don’t say anything, simply letting out breathy moans as he kneads your breasts, clawed fingers occasionally pinching your stiffened nipples. He doesn’t seem to mind, rather he relishes your little noises and fidgets. He lets out a little laugh when you try to lean into his touch some more.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders, and Archons, his fur is softer than you expected. He seems perplexed by the gesture, and a surprised little noise gets caught in his throat when you pull him into a kiss. You wonder how often he’s done something like this with another human or perhaps moth person when he slithers his tongue into your mouth. His tongue tastes sweet, sort of like honey with floral hints, perhaps he feeds on nectar and honey?

You stop wondering why he tastes sweet when you feel him rock his hips against you, feeling something grind into your clothed sex. He grunts into your mouth as he humps against you, and before you can process that, you jolt when you feel it shake. You pull back and try sitting up to look. You blink, face somehow getting warmer at the fascinating and arousing sight.

It’s a decent size, bigger than what you’re used to but not completely out of the realm of possibility. It’s dark, the ridges fading from black to red at the tip. It’s coated in a layer of slick, which you think you can attribute to the dripping slit it’s protruding from. When he chuckles, his twitching cock vibrates, but only in a short burst.

“W-Wait, you can–”

“I’m sure you know that trait is meant to ward off predators in most moths,” he states, “but since I have no natural predators, and am not a measly little moth… well, past humans I’ve mated with have found the trait useful.”

It’s true. Some moths, primarily male hawkmoths, rub the scales near their genitals to make a chirping noise that confuses bats. With that in mind, it sort of makes sense that this moth man has a similar ability that is simultaneously very different. You think a less horny and somehow less rational version of you would immediately sit up and ask a hundred questions, but all you can ask is how is that going to feel when it’s inside?

The moth’s antennae twitches, and he chuckles. “Oh? Eager, are we?”

“What?”

“Your pheromones are becoming stronger moment by moment,” he states, trailing a hand down to grasp his cock, “especially after observing this.” He leans in, pressing his forehead to your shoulder. “Such a lovely scent, I think I prefer it over the moth pheromones.”

Why you find that so flattering, you don’t know, but you do know from the pulse in your core that you want that thing in you as fast as you can get it in. You lift your hips up so you can slide your pajama bottoms and your underwear off. You barely get them off before the creature grabs your thighs and forces them apart, exposing your dripping heat. He wastes no time, urging you to wrap your arms and legs around him as his tip nudges against you. You let out a little whimper as he slowly grinds against you, then stills his hips. You gasp at the burst of vibration against your clit, and he chuckles.

“Oh, you’re going to be a fun little thing.”

Without any real warning, he presses the tip against your hole, pushing into you slowly. You jolt when he finally slips inside, moaning softly as he sinks deeper into your warmth. The ridges rubbing all along your walls are a feeling quite unlike anything else. Very different, and not at all bad. He groans so sweetly in your ear as he works his way down to the base. You whine at how full you feel, barely fitting him. The pressure of it all without adequate preparation makes you ache, but no sharp pains or anything of concern. You attribute that to both your bodies’ natural lubrication. Still, even with the ache, or perhaps because of it, you feel a deep arousal, a deep want for more, more, more.

He doesn’t wait for you to give the okay before he begins thrusting. You yelp as he sets a surprisingly quick pace. Your hands claw at his back in an attempt to orient yourself. He’s not even being that rough, just quick, but with his size still stretching you and the ridges grinding against your sweet spot when he draws back and slips back in, trying to focus on one thing or another is already a little overstimulating.

He buries himself to the hilt, and you’re embarrassed at the loud, high pitched sound that rips out of your throat when you feel him shudder inside you. He laughs, and his tone seems almost mocking as he draws back, slams back inside, and does it again to hear you squeal and feel you shudder. He leans down, pressing his fluffy chest against your soft chest, so he can really see every little reaction to his little trick.

“S-Stop teasing!” you cry out when he does it a third time.

“This is the most effective way for me to– ngh… do this,” he tells you through a clenched grin. “I can only do it in quick bursts, not continuously.” To emphasize his point, he does it a fourth and fifth time, relishing in the feeling of your walls clamping down around him. “Do you want me to stop?”

He does it a sixth time, and you try to shoot him a glare, but with how smug he looks about it and how you imagine you look right now, it has no effect on him. You just pull him in closer, nuzzling your face into his neck fluff to hide your face. He does it one last time before he returns to his regular thrusting, making you moan in pleasure and relief.

Your fingers brush against his wings, and he stills for a moment, his breath hitching. It gives you an idea. When he starts up his tempo again, you rub along the scales where his wings connect to his back. He shudders against you, and his voice pitches slightly higher. He immediately stops moving, looking down at you with his shining red eyes. You offer a smug smile, but your lack of confidence is very evident. He chuckles.

His hand moves up your thigh and his thumb finds your clit. Your hips buck when he begins to rub it in quick circles, and that’s when he slams down to the hilt and you feel his cock’s vibrations again. This time, he stays buried inside you, his cock vibrating in shorter, but more frequent bursts. You cry out, the heat in your core quickly growing too much for you to handle.

“Wait, w-wait, stop!”

“Why should I?”

You sob as he presses as flush against you as he can, somehow reaching even deeper, rubbing and buzzing against your sweet spot even more. You try to move away, but his other hand holds you in place. “T-Too much,” you tell him, voice cracking as he continues to quiver inside you. “I-I’m gonna cum if you keep– hah!”

“No one’s stopping you,” he teases, “so feel free to let yourself go.”

You try to hold yourself together, but that’s when he starts rocking into you while he’s already so deep inside you, when he keeps convulsing inside you and starts rubbing your clit faster. You feel tears welling up in your eyes as you shudder and claw at his back desperately, unable to hold your moans.

Your back arches obscenely and your hips buck when the moth man pushes you past your limit into climax. You imagine your debauched cries can be heard throughout the forest, but the white hot pleasure shooting through your nerves makes you unable to care.

You’re not even through the first waves of your orgasm when he starts thrusting into you again, making you actually start crying out as overstimulated tears slip out of your eyes. He’s at least let up on the vibrations and rubbing, but his cock is too much when you’re still reeling from the overwhelming pleasure.

“My turn,” he grunts out before you can ask what the hell he’s doing. You wouldn’t have been able to ask anyways, as each thrust knocks the wind out of you, building up your next orgasm quicker and quicker while you’re still riding out your first. You want him to stop, to slow down, to keep fucking going because you’re never going to feel this good ever again with a human cock and you need to sear this into your memory.

He lurches forward, and his sharp teeth clamp down onto your shoulder. You scream, and he slams hard into you as your eyes roll back with your second climax. You whine, the sound almost pathetic, as you feel warmth flood your core. He holds you still so he doesn’t slip out, but there’s still so much that his seed leaks out anyways.

In the stillness, you can finally get some air in your lungs as you pant. You feel the moth man pull his teeth from your shoulder, his tongue lapping at the blood. You feel your body going limp, only to tense up again and sob when you feel another burst of movement inside you.

“I hope you didn’t think that’s all it would take,” he goads, lifting his head to meet your gaze. Red stains the corners of his lips. “I don’t often get the opportunity to mate, so I intend on properly breeding you while I still have you here.”

You swallow nervously, butterflies fluttering in your stomach. You don’t hate the idea, Archons no, but at this rate, you’re going to be fucked too stupid to think of an excuse for what happened here when you return to the Akademiya. Would they even believe you if you said you had sex with the giant moth in the forest.

Another shudder snaps you out of the last rational thought you’re going to have before you return, and you simply brace yourself for more.

#dottore #dottore smut #dottore x reader #minors dni #genshin smut #kinktober #tw monsterfucking

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deliciousangelfestival · 11 months ago

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Nothing Has Changed - 5

Summary: Returning home for peace, you're faced with your tormentor, Bucky Barnes, who is now involved in your family's business.

Character: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader, Ransom Drysdale x F!Reader

Warning: Angst, Tragedy.

Nothing Has Changed - Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more.

You left Bucky dumbfounded after you tried to hit him. You were so angry after hearing that you got fired and lashed out at him.

If he wants to report you, so be it. You don’t care. You have lost everything. You’ve got nothing to lose.

You went to see your dad, who was arranging flowers for the next family.

“Dad, I’m going back to the city today,” you said, your voice tight.

“What’s the result?” Tom asked, remembering today was the day for the investigation results.

You rubbed your nose with your finger and cleared your throat, trying to hold back tears. “They let me go, but I got fired instead. But hey, at least I got my money back.” Your bank account had been unlocked by the judge, and you wanted to go back to the city to get all your stuff and sell your penthouse.

Tom looked concerned. “You want me to go with you?”

You shook your head. “No. I will come back after two days.”

“I’ll drive you to the station,” Tom offered, his voice filled with worry.

You headed back to the car and noticed Bucky wasn’t there anymore. As you drove to the station, the silence between you and your dad was heavy with unspoken words.

When you arrived at the station, you saw Natasha again. She looked at you with a mixture of curiosity and jealousy. “You’re using the train? Why didn’t you use the car that Bucky gave you?” She felt bitter since Bucky never offered her his car, yet you, who had just come back, could use it.

You knew from her tone that she was jealous. You just said, “It’s too slow.”

Natasha scoffed, “Yeah right.” Then she left.

You rolled your eyes; she hadn’t changed at all.

******

You arrived back in the city. Once, you thought this place would be your home. Now, you just wanted to leave it behind.

You didn’t want to set foot in the company again. You told your secretary to throw away all your stuff. Besides, there was nothing important. You had already secured everything in your safe deposit box. That’s why you had to clear your name to get access to your bank account back.

Early the next morning, you went to the bank. All you needed was the pen drive. It held all the leverage you might need. If someone tried to put you in a bad spot, this would be your last resort.

As you entered the bank, you felt a sense of relief mixed with determination. You approached the safe deposit boxes and signed the necessary forms. The pen drive felt heavy in your hand, despite its small size. It contained all the proof of strange transactions and could clear your name or take down those who had wronged you.

After securing the pen drive, you took a moment to breathe. Once a place of dreams and ambition, the city felt like a battlefield you had barely escaped.

After that, you got into the taxi to go back to your condo. As the car stopped at a red light, you saw the tall building—the headquarters owned by the Drysdale family.

You used to come here every morning, even sleeping in your office sometimes. But now, it was all in the past.

It still left a bitter taste in your mouth. After everything you did, they just threw you away. You wondered who would replace you since you knew your skills were unparalleled. No one could match you.

What made you so upset was Ransom. Until now, he hadn’t replied to a single message or email you’d sent him.

To be honest, you saw it coming. The friendship between you two had long since deteriorated. There was a time you liked him, but those feelings vanished after overhearing a conversation at a party where Ransom talked with his friends.

One of his friends had asked, “What’s up with you and her? We’ve noticed you two have been spending a lot of time together.”

Ransom scoffed, sipping his whiskey. “Nothing. I only see her as numbers. She’s the key to making me lead the company.”

“Wow,” his friend had replied, impressed.

You were heartbroken when you heard that. But part of you had expected it, knowing that Ransom was out of your league.

You arrived at your condominium and began packing. You had once thought your life was sad because your place was so empty. But now, you were grateful since it meant you could move out quickly.

You gathered everything into your luggage and boxes.

'Ding.Dong'

Then you heard the doorbell. You wondered who it could be. Besides your assistant, Ransom was the only other person who ever came to your place. Could it be him? But he never replied to any of your texts.

You looked at the camera by the door and saw Ransom on the screen. He looked a mess.

Your heart skipped a beat, a mix of anger and confusion bubbling up. You hesitated for a moment before opening the door. Ransom stood there, disheveled, his eyes hollow and tired.

You were confused. Should you open the door or not? On the other hand, you needed answers too.

Holding back your anger, you opened the door. Ransom was taken aback. He didn’t seem to expect you would actually open the door for him.

You stood behind the door, opened your arms as if welcoming him, and said, “You owe me an explanation.”

Ransom, hesitating for a moment, put his hands into his coat pockets and walked into your condo. He noticed the luggage and boxes scattered around the living room.

“You're leaving,” he observed.

Ransom scratched his head, frustration evident, then put his hand on his waist and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I never wanted to hurt you.”

You gave him a stern look. “Why are you upset? Isn’t this what you wanted?”

He turned to face you, his eyes red and tired. “It's for the best.”

You scoffed, incredulous. “That's it? After years together, you just throw me away like that?”

You pointed your finger at him, anger boiling over. “I knew it was you who framed me for insider trading.”

Ransom walked past you, grabbing a glass and filling it with water. He drank slowly, as if buying time to gather his thoughts. Finally, he opened his arms and leaned against the marble counter. “It's more complicated than you think.”

You crossed your arms tightly. “I'm not in the mood to solve a puzzle.”

Ransom sighed. “Three days before the FBI raided your office, my family heard Harlan’s will.”

After Harlan’s funeral, his will wasn’t read immediately. It was his last request to delay the reading.

“What’s that got to do with me?” you demanded.

Ransom’s eyes bore into yours. “Because Harlan chose you!”

You felt like the ground had been pulled out from under you. “Me?” you gasped, speechless. Now, it all made sense—why none of the Drysdales were willing to help you. They were angry, feeling like you had stolen their birthright.

“It was my mom and her siblings who contacted the FBI and got you fired,” Ransom admitted.

“And where were you?” you yelled, hugging yourself tightly. “You’re no different from them! You left me alone.”

Ransom took a step closer, placing his hands on your shoulders gently. “I was captured.”

You raised your head, eyes wide with disbelief. “Really?”

He nodded, his expression sincere. “They let me out after they finally got what they wanted.”

"For you to get fired," Ransom began, his tone sympathetic as he addressed the issue.

“Why? I also didn't know that Harlan chose me. If you had asked me, I would have refused it,” you expressed, your voice tinged with disbelief and frustration as you crossed your arms tightly, your body language mirroring your inner turmoil. Your brow furrowed, and your shoulders tensed as you spoke, emphasizing the weight of your words.

“I know. That's what I told them,” Ransom replied, pulling you into a hug, his embrace offering both comfort and reassurance as he wrapped his arms around you securely. You stiffened momentarily in surprise at his gesture before relaxing into the embrace, your body melting into his as you allowed yourself to be comforted.

“Their plan backfired though,” Ransom continued, a wry smile playing on his lips as he spoke, his eyes reflecting a mix of amusement and exasperation at the situation.

“Huh?” you responded, eyebrows furrowing in confusion, your body tense with anticipation as you awaited his explanation. Your arms remained crossed tightly over your chest, a defensive stance reflecting your skepticism.

“The employees made a petition for you to come back,” Ransom revealed, his tone tinged with amusement at the irony of the situation, his hands gesturing animatedly as he spoke.

You were left speechless, the news catching you off guard. You had always kept to yourself at work, never realizing your impact on your colleagues, your eyes widening in surprise as you processed his words.

Ransom chuckled softly. “You're the reason why we got triple profits and they got bonuses. Why would they want to lose you?” he remarked, admiration evident in his voice, his gaze locked on yours with a mixture of fondness and respect. You offered a small, hesitant smile in response, your body language softening as his words sank in.

For the last few years, the projects that you and your team worked on have consistently generated significant profits, earning you the respect and appreciation of your colleagues, a sense of pride swelling within you as you recall your past achievements.

You nodded slowly, a sense of validation washing over you as you acknowledged the impact of your work.

“And I'm here to tell you that you're not fired,” Ransom declared, his words carrying a sense of relief and sincerity, his eyes searching yours for any sign of acceptance or understanding.

You were supposed to be happy when you heard that, but with your father's condition, you had second thoughts.

You pushed Ransom away, whispering, “I'm sorry.”

Ransom looked puzzled. “What?”

You struggled to explain, “The reason why I said no is because of my dad. He's got cancer.” And you're still hurt by the betrayal from the company you've worked for a long time.

Ransom's eyes widened. “You went back home and met your dad?”

You nodded your head.

Ransom couldn't believe this. He had never heard you mention your dad until now, and it was the first time he saw you being vulnerable.

“Alright. I can't stop you,” Ransom said resignedly. He knew you had to go, but he was going to miss you. It would be difficult to find a talented person like you.

“Wait. Does it mean you've met the people who made your life miserable?”

You shrugged your shoulders.

“You should show them the new you,” Ransom suggested. Having attended the same high school, he had witnessed what they did to you.

You looked at Ransom, considering his words. It was strange hearing him advise you like this, given your complicated history. But there was a sincerity in his voice that made you pause.

“Maybe,” you mumbled, still uncertain.

Ransom nodded, his expression softening. “They don't know what they're missing out on. You've grown stronger, more resilient.”

You managed a weak smile, appreciating his attempt to boost your spirits. Despite everything, there was a flicker of gratitude for his unexpected support.

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Author Note: Hey friends,

If you've been enjoying the content, I've set up a Ko-fi account.

Your support through tips would mean the world and help me keep creating.

Only if you feel like it!

Here's the link: Ko-fi

Thanks a bunch for being fabulous followers!

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gemgdynamight0 · 2 months ago

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Pro hero Katsuki meeting child Katsuki and showing him his signed all might card

This would go two ways:

First scenario: Pro hero Katsuki would brag so hard about all might's signature and make child Katsuki FURIOUS. He'd try to explode his older version but his power is almost nothing compared to now, so pro hero Katsuki would just stand there and smirk saying "YES let's fight" (and then he'll do sth similar to what happened with those kids during the remedial course)

Second scenario: Child Katsuki would be so happy and proud and they would both smile at each other having a "wow I've come so far" moment... But then, little Katsuki would be curious and annoyed: "what are all those blood stains, why didn't you keep it safe in a fire proof box inside an underground house😡 are you not rich enough to do that, old man?". Instantly the peace is over and they'd start screaming at each other 😭

#25 yo Katsuki VS 5 yo Katsuki #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugou #katsuki bakugo #bakugo katsuki #katsuki #kacchan #bakugo #mha #bnha #my hero academia #Bakugou #mha bakugo #Humor

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see-arcane · 4 months ago

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So. What was the deal with the vampire in the graveyard versus Orlok’s Nosferatuing around?

SPOILERS INCOMING CLOSE YOUR EYES AND SCROLL AWAY

Von Franz mentions something vague about there being different rules depending on the region with the whole ‘sleep by daylight’ thing being the only consistent rule…

…except that doesn’t add up with what Thomas saw.

He followed the hunting party at night. He saw them open the coffin with the vampire still resting in it, cue the iron stake piercing him, the blood, the scream, Thomas’ startled cry—and then an immediate cut to him coming awake in the inn’s bed, now wearing a cross at his neck (which he tosses) and mud on his boots (proof of his excursion). He saw what he saw.

How did that vampire in the graveyard come to be? Was he one of Orlok’s making? Or was he never Nosferatu at all? Von Franz refers to Nosferatu exclusively as a type of undead that brings plague. That does seem to be Orlok’s gimmick, but the guy in the graveyard had no rats for company. The people Thomas encountered were out and about, hale and healthy, no fretting over plague. So what was he?

I might have misheard, but I think there was a moment as Thomas entered the inn for the first time where the woman doing an exorcism/healing rite involving garlic mentioned the word strigoi. It didn’t pop up in her subtitles, so I won’t swear to it, but it’d be interesting if Eggers went digging around in the Dracula and other vampire lit lore to fish out other variants of vampirism to play with.

But the thing is.

The thing is.

While it would be a good Easter egg hint that Thomas’ notion of hunting Orlok down and staking him in his big rat box was doomed to fail~, it would only add up if we’d gotten concrete on-film evidence that he was really mistaking one kind of vampire for another. All we have is Von Franz�� word that ‘he doubts it will work.’ Thomas, meanwhile, has seen it work and has the memory of Orlok snapping awake and actively stopping him from bringing the pickaxe down on him—if being impaled did nothing, why would Orlok bother to stop the blow?

It leaves the possibilities split down the middle.

Version A: Von Franz was right. Orlok the Nosferatu needed the Death-By-Maiden-and-Sunrise trap to be destroyed and what Thomas saw was an entirely different vampire being slain by its own methods. Potentially a vampire made by Orlok, but not a full Nosferatu plague carrier (possibly something that needs Scholomance study), or else turned by completely unrelated means. tl;dr: Thomas Staking Orlok Would Have Failed

Version B: Thomas was right. Had he been able to stake Orlok through, he might have put him down, or at least left him weak enough for them to bring on blades and fire to make sure nothing was left. Chuck the leftovers in a river for good measure. And Ellen would never have had to die.

Naturally, the latter isn’t as cinematic or thematically satisfying. It isn’t as meaty as Version A. But I can’t help picturing Thomas turning the what-ifs over and over in his head. What if he had been faster with the pickaxe? What if Von Franz hadn’t stalled them past sunset and they had found Orlok still in his box rather than Knock? What if Ellen could have been here and alive and safe if only he hadn’t been too slow, too late, too trusting?

What if…

What if both men were wrong?

Or at least failed to see the entire picture. To really wonder at the how and why of Thomas’ affliction being so different compared to every other non-Ellen victim of Orlok’s. To wonder just what Orlok intended by his drinking of Ellen as consummation by consumption. Surely he did not intend to kill her. Rather, to let her remain dead.

(The broker yet lives.)

((As a man.))

(This is no ordinary plague!)

((Plagues.))

Orlok was a cadaver who lived. The undead must first be dead. Is it not so for every form of vampire, no matter their region?

Ellen is dead. The Maiden become Death.

(He left you to the wolves yet you prevailed!)

((The wolves only came for him by daylight. When sleep ended and Thomas’ heart still beat. The work unfinished.))

Von Franz departs, head hung. Dr. Sievers will stall the formalities of the mortuary. There are dead enough to busy himself with. Let the boy grieve.

Let him think.

Of corpses that are not corpses. Death that does not stick. The sun moves between blinks as he banishes the shriveled carcass of the Count from the room, breaking and burning it.

His love is dressed anew. Clean, for she was never unclean.

(Her breast.)

((There is no bite.))

The sun sinks. Thomas holds a cold hand. Now it grips his back, their wedding bands gleaming. As she kisses his breast, he thinks perhaps it is not so terrible to be mistaken, all told.

They can be wrong together.

#I am having Thoughts #nosferatu #nosferatu 2024 #ellen hutter #thomas hutter #count orlok #nosferatu spoilers #spoilers #my writing

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quinnysnursery · 6 months ago

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when the party's over,, move-in day・₊✧

summary : the triplets (and nate) move into their dorms! meet some new friends and nate's a worry-wart (rightfully so)

warning/extra tid-bits : crying, explicit language, i think that's all?

word count : 2,318

divider credit : umm i found all the photos on pinterest :3 (pointy & leafy thing from @saradika-graphics)

a/n : FIRST PIECE OF WTPO LITERATURE RAAAAA (not proof read, i'm just a girl!)

“Alright,” Jimmy let out a stereotypical “dad-groan” as he stood up straight, cracking his back. “That should be it.” He said, clapping his hands together as he examined the dorm room he’d helped his youngest son and Nathan set up.

Mary Lou had decided to help Matt and Nick, since it was clear that Matt was overly anxious about move-in day and so was Nick- though he’d never admit it- which meant he’d be extra snippy with Matt…a recipe for disaster.

“Thanks Mr.S, it looks good!” Nate smiled, admiring the work the three of them had gotten done. “Home sweet home, right Chris?” He smiled, nudging Chris’ shoulder. Chris laughed softly, “Not for long, rush week starts tomorrow.” The youngest triplet replied. Heart set on moving into the Kappa Nu house.

Jimmy smiled fondly, he’d been a part of the well-known fraternity when he attended NESE. Chris (and Matt and Nick, if they weren’t so stubborn) would be legacy. “Just remember to be yourself, don’t go getting expelled trying to impress the president.” Jimmy reminded his son, pulling him into a side-hug.

Chris nodded, rolling his eyes. “I know, I know.” He grumbled, tired of being told the same thing repeatedly.

“Oh wow!” An unfamiliar chirpy voice came from the doorway, startling the two younger boys. Chris unintentionally reached for Nate, quickly scolding himself. He couldn’t do that, not here- at least not now.

The dorm RA was standing in the doorframe of Nate and Chris’ door. The youngest triplet vaguely remembered meeting him when touring the school last year.

Larri. His name didn’t match his vibe, nor his looks at all. It was an old man's name and well, Larri was maybe 21 at the oldest.

“You're giving the room across from you a run for their money.” Larri joked, earning a deep chuckle from Jimmy. “Those are actually my other sons.” He explained, earning a shocked expression from Larri. “All three of your sons go here?!” He asked excitedly, Jimmy nodded- pushing Chris in front of him, away from the safety of Nate.

“Triplets.” Jimmy smiled proudly, Larri’s head whipped to Matt and Nick’s dorm- confirming what he’d just been told.

“I’m…woah.” He breathed, eyes filled with amazement- Chris wondered if it was just a show Larri put on for the parents during move-in day.

“Well, it’ll be nice having some siblings on this floor. NESE doesn’t see siblings often.” Larri hummed before pointing to Chris’ nightlight that Nate had just plugged in moments prior. “Is that bulb LED?” He asked, eyes flickering between both freshmen.

“Uhm…” Nate thought back to when he’d bought it for Chris a few Christmases ago. Did the box say LED? Or CFL? What was the difference? Why did it even matter?

“If it’s not LED then I’ll have to ask you guys to unplug it when you aren’t around.” Larri explained, “Dumb fire hazard rule.” He added- earning a furrowed brow from Jimmy.

“I mean! Very cool and safe fire hazard rule.” Larri corrected himself, earning a laugh from Chris. Larri was funny, even if it was just an act for move-in day. “Will do.” Nate said, unplugging the nightlight and tossing it into a drawer. Chris stopped himself from whining about it.

He was a freshman in college, he could survive without seeing his night light plugged in.

Larri bid his goodbyes after that, and not long after did Mary Lou and Jimmy offer to take the boys out to eat before officially leaving them on their own.

“Mom, don't cry.” Nick laughed softly, as Mary Lou pulled all her boys into another hug. “You know she can’t help it.” Jimmy scolded gently, hugging his boys as well. Nate included.

Mary Lou pulled away, tears in her eyes. “You four look out for each other, yeah?” She said, wavering a finger in their faces. “Nick, go to bed at a decent time.” She started, earning a playful eye roll from her eldest. “Matt,” Mary Lou placed her hands on Matt’s shoulders. “Remember to take breaks studying, yeah?” The middle triplet smiled softly, nodding. “Yeah, ‘kay mom.”

Mary Lou let out a loving sigh as she turned to face her youngest son, her last child. “Chris, don’t forget to wash your socks.” Chris couldn’t help but laugh, pulling his mom into one more hug, “I won’t, promise.”.

The triplets mom turned towards Nate, who’d been right next to each one of her boys nearly their entire life. “You look after my boys, okay?” She asked, earning a firm “Yes ma’am.” from Nate.

After a few more teary hugs, the triplets and Nate watched as their parents got into their car before driving off campus.

“Just us now.” Nick sighed, turning around and beginning to walk back to his dorm. Nate, Matt and Chris all glanced at each other before following the oldest triplet. “What now?” Chris asked- trying to hide the looming feeling of anxiety.

“I’m going to the library!” Matt smiled excitedly, pulling out his student ID with a toothy grin. “The library?” Nate asked, furrowing his brow. “Yeah! NESE holds the world record for the biggest college library!” The brunette smiled, earning a stifled laugh from his younger brother- “You are such a nerd.” Chris poked, frowning as Nate elbowed him in the side.

Matt rolled his eyes, flipping Chris off playfully as he split off from the group. “What about you Nick?” Nate asked, subconsciously making sure Chris was walking in front of him.

“I wanted to finish editing those photos I took at our going-away party.” Nick said as they all entered the elevator, pressing the 4th floor button. Nate nodded, glancing at Chris with concerned eyes.

‘Ding!’

Nick quickly exited the elevator, rummaging in his pockets for his dorm room keys. Nate did the same, saying bye to Nick before he and Chris slipped into their dorm.

It wasn’t a huge room by any means, but due to NESE only accepting the very best of applicants- it was bigger than an average dorm. Enough room for both Chris and Nate to spread their arms out and still not feel claustrophobic.

“You good? Feeling little?” Nate asked the youngest triplet as Chris flopped onto his bed- letting out a deep sigh. Chris quickly shook his head, “What? No, I’m good.” He defended, crossing his arms over his chest as he scowled at Nate.

Nate’s brow quirked upwards, “It’s fine if you are Chris, it’s been a long day.” The shorter boy sympathized. He didn’t want to push regression onto Chris, but it didn’t take a genius to realize that today was stressful and stressful days typically led the boy to regression.

“I’m fine, Nate.” Chris grouched, turning to face the wall. Nate’s shoulders slumped as he sat on his own bed and grabbed his phone from his pocket- opening tiktok and beginning his doom scrolling.

Matt clutched a leather-bound book to his chest, gulping an anxious knot down as he searched for an unoccupied table in the library. For NESE holding the world record for biggest library, you’d think that would be an easy task- Sadly for Matt, it was not.

“You can sit here.” A confident voice spoke to the right of him, Matt turned and his eyes landed on a tall girl with braids and a tan boy with fluffy black-ish hair.

The boy’s eyes were fixated on a laptop screen, Matt couldn’t see what was playing though. But the girl with braids had a few textbooks and notes sprawled out around her. “We don’t bite.” She joked, the brunette man let out a breathy laugh as he sat across from her and the dark-haired boy.

Matt kept to himself for a few moments, eyes scanning the words on book’s parchment- flipping through the pages. It was a book on BPD and how it affected the brain. Matt was only a few pages in, but the author was doing a good job at not demonizing the mental illness.

The library was just as beautiful as the pictures on google showed, the high ceilings and shelves that required multiple rolling ladders- a general golden glow in the air that made Matt feel like a student at Hogwarts.

It wasn’t until Matt heard a low whine followed by some whispering that he looked up from his book. He was met with the sight of the tan boy whispering into the girl with braids ear- she scooted the laptop over a smidge before typing in something and pressing the spacebar.

“There.” She smiled, rubbing the boy's shoulder before turning to return to her book- that’s when she caught Matt’s eyes.

“Sorry!” Matt’s face flushed with embarrassment as he forced his gaze downwards, praying she didn’t hate him. There was a painful silence for a few moments before the girl spoke again, “What’re you reading?” She asked, closing the current textbook she was reading out of.

Matt blinked up, his brain taking a moment to register the question he’d been asked. “Oh uhm, ‘s just a book on BPD.” He shrugged, picking up the book to show her the cover. The girl nodded, “I’m Quen.” She smiled- reaching her hand over the table.

Matt stammered over his name for a moment, quickly shaking her hand. ‘Good going, you’re making a fool of yourself.’ His brain told him- he did his best to push it down.

“Let me guess…psych major?” Quen smirked, earning a quiet laugh from Matt as he nodded. “Yeah…what about you?” He asked, making a mental note of the page he was on before closing the book. “Business, it sucks.” She sighed, waving a hand over the mountains of textbooks she had sprawled out.

Matt nodded- understanding, his dad had been a business major. His eyes flickered over to the tan boy sitting next to Quen, “His lucky ass has a film scholarship.” She joked. Matt had to cover his mouth to stop his laughter.

“You a freshman? I haven’t ever seen you around.” Quen commented, earning a nod from Matt. “Yeah, just moved in today.” He explained, already smiling at the thought of telling Nick how he’d managed to make a new friend.

Quen nodded- beginning to pack up some of her things. “Are you gonna rush on monday?” She asked, Matt quickly shook his head. “My brother is, but ‘s not really my scene.” He explained, recalling the various times Chris told him just how lame he was for not wanting to be in a frat.

“It’s awesome! Parties every weekend, brotherhood-” “Chris you already have brothers.” “Shut up!”

Quen thought for a moment before speaking, “Triplets?” She asked, causing Matt to stop. How did she know that? “...Yeah?”

Quen nodded, “Larri told me, we hang out a lot.” She explained as she zipped up her lavender Fjallraven backpack before reaching over the boy in front of her and taking the laptop from him- much to his dismay.

“Quen!” He whined, pulling off his headphones. His face blushed a light shade of pink as he finally recognized Matt was sitting across from him. Quen realized this, motioning to Matt and the boy.

“Matt, Ben. Ben, Matt.” She introduced as she stuffed the laptop Ben had been using into the corresponding compartment of her bag. Matt smiled, offering Ben a small wave.

Ben’s lips quirked upwards into a smile before Quen informed him they had to go if they were going to catch dinner with Larri and Tara.

“Bye Matt, good meeting you! Hope your brother gets into KN.” Quen smiled before grabbing hold of Ben’s hand and leading him out of the library. Matt sighed, leaning back in the wooden chair- did he just make a friend?

The next day, Chris (surprisingly) woke up before Nate. Which was good, because that meant Chris could spend as long as he wanted choosing the perfect outfit for meeting the brothers of Kappa Nu for the first time.

He knew if Nate had been awake he’d tell Chris to just “be himself!” but his brain stopped accepting that advice the moment he saw the Kappa Nu house in person during his first ever tour of the school.

Chris would do anything- or be anyone- he had to to get inside that house.

The youngest triplet opened the drawers of the shared dresser he and Nate helped Jimmy set up yesterday, his eyes landing on his beloved night light that Nate had thoughtlessly shoved into the drawer after the RA asked him to unplug it.

A small frown formed without Chris’ permission, causing him to slam the drawer shut out of frustration. It was a nightlight. He was being ridiculous.

“...Chris?” Nate croaked, sitting up slightly in his bed. Chris turned to look at his friend, feeling bad he’d woke the shorter boy up.

“...’s 6 am, go to bed.” Nate murmured, laying back down and burying his face in his pillow. Chris rolled his eyes, continuing to search the dresser drawers for a specific pair of jeans. Suddenly, Nate shot back up- eyes full of concern that only a caregiver could have.

“Are you little? Do you need something, bud?” Nate asked, “No!” Chris argued back. Nate sighed, raising his hands in defense. “Then what’re you doing up?” The shorter boy asked, now fully awake.

“Pickin’ out clothes. Gotta make a good first impression.” Chris explained, smiling as he finally found the perfect pair of baggy jeans. Nate nodded silently, legs dangling off the raised bed.

“Just be yourself, they’ll love you.” Nate smiled, hopping off the bed and placing a comforting hand on Chris’ shoulder. Chris shrugged his hand off, grabbing his shower caddy and starting towards the door. Nate watched sadly as his best friend slipped out the room. It was clear that Chris would do whatever it took to get into Kappa Nu, and that terrified Nate.

taglist !! :

@mattssturnz @littlestar44 @graceslittlecorner @zivall

@hrtz4alex2211 @bimbob1tch @sturnsxplr-25 @cherry-red-heart

@pr3ttyf4wn @frlinbruh @jazminepetit-homme @raynaaxx

@tyummyz @starri-nightss @cyberskulzzz @nicksbestie

@urfavbestiee @nicksloverrr @ducklingsandlambs

this one-shot is apart of my agere frat/college au! find more info on it, here!

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treasurehuntbuck · 5 months ago

Note

Drabble for #19

god first one out the bat and its a doozy.

#19 - Not Strong Enough by boygenius,

The Diaz kitchen is kind of like a liminal space. The soft light never feels too harsh. It smells perpetually of some combination of allspice and the citrus dish soap Eddie prefers. It's always warm, and sometimes Buck swears he can feel the floor beating beneath his feet, the heart of the house, entrenched in the love Eddie has poured into it. It's always been a safe haven, protecting from the horrors of the outside world, a safe harbor in the storm. The day Eddie blows their lives up the house doesn't lose even a little bit of that warmth, that safety, despite the fact that Buck can feel his own heart shattering where it's trapped in his chest. But he forces a smile, cracks a joke, sits on the couch next to Eddie and listens to a very nice woman talk about the Texas heat, about accommodations and school districts and yard sizes. He laughs in all the right places, gets weirdly intense about bathroom tile, and tries to hold himself together long enough to get out of there without setting fire to the rubble that Eddie has inadvertently left in his wake. Buck refuses to panic until he's back at the loft a few hours later. He stops dead in his tracks once he's made it inside, sighing, all the fight, all the emotion drawn out of his body with his breath. The thing is– Eddie's not leaving Buck. He knows that. He knows that Eddie is going after Christopher, which is what Buck had been silently begging him to do since Chris got on that fucking plane three months ago. So, it's a good thing! Or it should be. Chris is worth it, he's the most important person ever. Not just to Eddie, but to Buck too, aside from Jee, maybe. That doesn't mean Buck's heart doesn't feel cleaved in two, because Eddie might not be leaving Buck. But he is leaving. And Buck is always the one who gets left behind. He'd never seen this one coming though, it had blindsided him, and he doesn't know how to picture a life without Eddie right there next to him. Losing Chris to Texas had been one of the hardest things Buck's ever dealt with, but it was always supposed to be temporary. If Eddie leaves– If he goes to Texas, if he sells the little bungalow on South Bedford Street, if he packs up his truck and drives halfway across the country? If Eddie leaves, takes Buck's heart right out of his chest, and doesn't come back? Buck doesn't know how to be strong enough for this. He isn't sure how he's supposed to smile through it. How he's supposed to help his best friend box everything up, even the pictures on the fridge, every scrap of proof that they're a family, little and cobbled together, but family. Buck doesn't sleep well that night, or the next. Two weeks later Eddie leaves him standing outside LAX, double doors closing on his heels, with a sense of déjà vu so intense it makes Buck sick to his stomach. He has a hard time getting back into the jeep, the imprint of Eddie's touch still lingering on his shoulder, his reassurance ringing in Buck's ears. He desperately wants to believe him. He doesn't really remember the drive back, but Buck ends up at the Diaz house– his home, their home. Without thinking, he crawls into Eddie's bed. It still smells like him. Buck sleeps. Three days later, Eddie comes back, one belligerent teenager in tow. When they come through those double doors, Buck has tears on his cheeks and a confession clogging his throat. It can wait. He'd rather get his boys home.

the spotify wrapped drabbles :)

#inell #911 #buddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley #911 abc #buddie drabble #my writing #yayyyyyy this was so fun #i missed writing

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assassinmidnight · 6 months ago

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Flufftober day 22: Heirloom

Jason/RedHood xVigilante!AFAB!Autistic!Reader

Not proof read, I have dyslexia (sorry for any mistakes)

“Hey, Bruce?” Jason knocked on the mahogany door, waiting for a moment before hearing a grunted “come in.”

Upon entering the office, Jason looked around, eyes grazing over the photos on the walls, picture perfect family photos of the Waynes. He’s surprised to find himself in a few of them, dressed in a merlot suit, next to Dick, who was in a neat azure suit. Tim, Damian and Bruce were all dressed in black suits, typical if you asked Jason. They all had matching handkerchiefs in the pockets though, white with embroidered initials, golden of course.

“Richard did say you were planning on stopping by, although he didn’t mention why,” Bruce signs off on some paper before looking up at Jason, motioning with his hand for him to sit down, “He did hint at it being connected to young Score and your current living arrangements,” Jason noticed the glint in the older man’s eyes. “Thank you for letting us borrow the cabin and for letting us get out of that event, the’res still not fully used to it,” Bruce smiled at the words “I’m hoping to meet them again soon, Alfred has informed me of their food preferences so there won’t be anything to worry about there.” Jason wanted to respond but Bruce continued “But you’re not here to thank me either, so why are you here?” Jason stood up, hands clamming up with sweat. “Um, Dick said that you, um, had a jeweller, a family one,” he took a deep breath “I need a ring.”

Bruce felt a wave of emotions go through him, he hadn’t expected this. Maybe he would ask for a house for them, so they could finally move out of that one bedroom apartment that Score had, or maybe even ask for a better suit for them. He hadn’t expected this.

Jason watched with nervous eyes as Bruce stood up and walked over to one of the photo frames, it was one from a family dinner a few years back. Pushing it to the side revealed a safe, and after a minute he came up to Jason. In his hands was a jewellery box with a glass lid, inside a multitude of rings, in different sizes and cuts, were visible. “My mother got a lot of rings from my father, and I have very little use for them,” Jason looked up and saw Bruce smiling at him. “I would recommend a pearl for the engagement, and a diamond for the wedding,” Bruce pointed first to a ring with a white pearl on a silver band then to one with a diamond with a gold band. “But you know their tastes best.”

“Jay? I still want those almonds,” your voice brings him out of his thoughts, grabbing your hand he slowly leads you away from the crowd and the bonfire. “Yeah, I’ll bring you this time so I don’t forget,” you smiled at him and followed with a pep in your steps.

The two of you eventually sat down on a bench, one bag of roasted almonds each. “This has really been perfect,” you say, chewing on the almonds while watching the fire, Jason nodded, watching you.

“Remember when I said I could make sure there's a bonfire on our anniversary?” Looking at him you respond “That’s not exactly what you said,”

“No but it's what I meant,” you can’t help the smile growing on your lips and nod, “Well, what if today was our anniversary?”

“And which anniversary would that be?” Jason sees the confusion on your face and moves from beside you to in front of you, on one knee.

“Our engagement anniversary?” He holds out a little red velvet box, opening it to show a pearl ring. “Princess, will you marry me?”

*I DO NOT ALLOW THE PLAGIARISM OF MY WORK, FOR IT TO BE USED IN AI OR FOR IT TO BE REPOSTED ELSEWHERE*

#flufftober 2024 #reader insert #jason todd #autistic reader #red hood #jason todd x reader #fluff #flufftober #flufftober day 22 #heirloom #bruce wayne #batman

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kitsunesakii · 2 months ago

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A Mask with many Faces

Chapter 4

It was supposed to be a normal day. Sasha had gotten up before her alarm, managed to remember to eat breakfast, get to the bus station on time and got into the archives without running into any worms. Which she hadn’t thought much of. She was supposed to look into the digital footprint about some Joe Bloggs that she believed could have been connected to one of the statements. She didn’t have an actual name but supposedly they lived on hilltop road and no ones gotten ahold of them in years. Sasha was quite determined to try and figure it out. Jon was currently reviewing a statement in his office, Martin was making tea and Tim was on lunch. Overall it was a normal, quiet afternoon.

That is until all hell broke loose.

Jon had started yelling and there was a crash. Martin was closer and entered the office first, Sasha quick to follow.

Worms. Everywhere. White wriggling things that were pouring in through some hole in the wall behind a few boxes. Even looking at them made her own skin crawl and heart hammer in her chest.

Martin was quick to lead them out and into what he called a ‘worm proof’ room. Sasha knew this wasn’t a viable solution. They were practically cornered and- Sasha heard a separate door open. Tim.

Shit.

Sasha swallowed the nausea in her throat and tore the door open, moving towards where she could hear him. She paused in the hallway for a moment. She had expected Tim, had expected worms, but she had not expected the husk of Jane Prentiss coming through the hole in the wall. Complete with worms pouring out of her skin and moving underneath. She didn't have time to think. Quickly moving towards Tim and grabbing him by the collar. Together they sped through the hallways before she started up the stairs.

Her brain was in flight mode. Shooting up the stairs until she busted out and into the lobby. A few students gave her a weird glance before going about their business.

Sasha paused for only a second. Tim wasn’t behind her. She didn’t have time to worry about that. She needed to get everyone out of the building. Sasha looked around, noting the reception desk, the elevator, a few civilians leaving the library and passing the fire alarm.

The fire alarm.

She sprinted over and near ripped the lever off its hinges. The sound exploded throughout the institute and cracked through her mind. But she wasn’t done yet, she needed to get to Elias, they needed to get to the fire valve in the boiler room. Jon had been the one to suggest C02 in the pipe system as a fail safe if they were attacked and Elias had the keys.

Elias had been in his office and he was full of questions when she ripped his door open, panic in her voice and her heart in her ears as she explained as fast as she could that they needed to get to the boiler room right now. Then before she knew it they were running down some different corridor she wasn’t sure of and barreling towards the back of the institute. She prayed that Martin and Jon and Tim were ok.

Please Lord let them be ok. Let there have been enough time.

She wasn’t entirely sure when she had lost Elias in the long corridor but before she knew it she was in artifact storage. Damn it.

Sasha slowed to a staggered walk and set her palms on her knees, dropping the tape recorder she had forgotten she was carrying and trying desperately to not fall over as she caught her breath. Her lungs were screaming for a break and her knees were jelly where she stood. It was quiet, considering artifact storage was a part of the original building and didn't have an electronic fire alarm. Leaving her alone with her ragged breaths as the only other sound. Beads of sweat trickled down her face and burned her eyes. She forced herself to stand, swaying slightly as she walked through the aisles of cursed objects. Sasha noted the antique table in the corner. She bit her lip, there should have been an exit somewhere nearby. She turned around and stopped dead.

Something was watching her.

The feeling wasn’t unfamiliar. The institute came with its own brand of edge that she was used to brushing off as superstition or simply the atmosphere of the archives. Tim called it ‘spooky.’ and he wasn’t wrong. But this wasn’t some off taste of static in her mouth. This was tangible.

She did a careful 360 and felt a bout of nausea when she noticed a shadow in the corner of the room. Just great. Sasha took a subtle step backwards.

“Hello?” She swallowed, anything to get the pathetic tone out of her mouth. “I can see you!” She tried to make her voice louder. Helplessly aware that she didn’t have a fire extinguisher, if it was Jane Prentiss, and it didn’t look like Jane. Which laid out a completely separate set of problems that she wasn’t prepared to handle right now. God she wished she knew the layout of the storage rooms better.

Sasha took another step backwards as the thing took a step towards her. Her vision was blurring at the edges, her body feeling tight when she moved. Her joints are stiff. She tried to take another step but miscalculated and steadied herself with a hand on the old table. She tried to ignore the fact that she couldn’t feel anything with her hand.

“H e l l o?”

Panic was lighting her on fire as she tried to move, to do anything. And she needed to, because It sounded like her.

It sounded like her.

It lunged at her, and for a moment she could actually hear herself screaming, then her vision swam and it felt like time stopped.

Sasha blinked, the movement heavy and took a painful amount of energy. She was on the floor and looking up at the back of a secondary creature, no, Micheal, now stood between her and that thing. It hurt to look at him. He was all sharp edges and fast moving patterns spreading over his skin and through his hair like a blanket of texture. He was taller than normal, his form curling in odd shapes. She realized after a moment that one of his hands was wrapped around her middle, carefully keeping her in place without hurting her. His arm was a tangled mess of loops protruding in impossible directions yet somehow meeting back with his shoulder. It was getting harder and harder to hold her focus.

“D i s t o r t i o n?” The thing's voice weakened.

Micheal’s laughter was numbingly sharm and spread spots over her vision. She closed her eyes and tried not to flinch. The fuzz that was billowing through her ears made it hard to catch his words.

“You are quite stupid with how you choose to act. The circus truly is full of clowns.”

“W h y d o y o u c a r e? W h a t b u i s n e s s d o y o u h a v e w i t h h e r?”

“I will not allow her to be forgotten. You do not get that satisfaction.”

"W h a t, y o u c a r e a b o u t h e r?"

“Yes.” A pause. “And she does not deserve to be changed by the likes of you.”

Sasha could feel herself starting to fade. She was sure he said something more, but it was fuzzy and swam along with her focus. She was drowning, losing herself. But it felt nice, wrapped up in limbs too long to be real and yet still comforting. Did she have a name? Maybe it didn’t matter. She let herself go to the darkness surrounding her.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Micheal moved towards the writhing thing full of limbs and teeth. It was cute, how it tried to be scary. He laughed at its audacity. He felt the girl in his grasp go limp as he attacked the ugly thing. It was easy, it was already weak since it missed its original target and Micheal was quick to sink sharp claws into it. It made an odd sound and Micheal pushed the thing into a hallway that stretched like taffy. Once it was in the maw of the spiral Micheal tore into the table. Such a conundrum. Such a mess. It made Micheal giggle.

He turned and scooped up the tired thing wrapped around his fingers. It would take her time, after being under the haze that thing seemed to exfoliate, for her to come too. Time. Another silly thing. He hummed and moved into a pastel hallway that didn’t exist. Her skin was warm against his own. Although it wasn’t really skin. Another silly thought. It was Micheal’s skin. Just drawn out like a cow to leather. He moved through the corridor until passing through a hallway into a bedroom.

He laid her out carefully in the bed and pulled the covers to her shoulders. Such a pretty thing, the cold wouldn’t take another innocent. He giggled, the sound just natural for him. It was nerves, which he was sure he shouldn’t have or feel. The discomfort pooling out of his mouth as a sound and resting around them.

He knew she would do better if she woke up without his uncomfortable distorted unreality. And even though three real days have passed it won’t feel that way for her, he still stayed an extra moment. Watching the way she shifted in her sleep. She would be ok. She was alive. Micheal finally left her alone.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The last time Sasha had a genuine hangover was in college, she remembered the feeling as she jerked straight up in bed and instantly regretted it. Gripping her head and breathing through her teeth. Her eyes hurt and her vision split into fractals, swimming as she tried to look around. Too much, too fast. She shuddered and froze in place, shutting her eyes and counting to ten.

She needed to stop trying to think. Sasha couldn’t explain why every sliver of thought seemed accompanied by a dead static that made her head hurt even more than it already did, but that didn’t seem to stop it. It took a long moment before feeling seemed to break past the back of her throat and she could breathe. She managed to make it into the kitchen and fill a glass with water, chugging it before sputtering and coughing. Nonetheless it woke her all the way up and she managed a small sigh of relief.

It took her another half hour to reorient herself. She took a long scalding hot shower and tried desperately to piece together the day- it was only one day, right? Either way she forced herself to remember the blurry events at the institute. The hot water did seem to help. She rested her head against the shower wall and tried to relax her shoulders.

She was at the institute when Jon discovered the worms.

She was separated from Elias and ended up in artifact storage.

That's where the details got weird.

She remembered talking to someone. Maybe. Although every time she tried to remember past that, she was hit with a wave of nausea and static spots in her vision. She was obviously in her apartment. Had Tim dropped her off? He was the only other one that knew where she lived, but…she dropped the thought for a moment.

Sasha managed to get out of the shower and into clean clothes without actually throwing up. Even more so, she managed to coherently open her phone and notice the missed calls from Martin, Jon, Tim, even Elias had called her. Well there goes the theory that Tim dropped her off.

She chewed on her lip a moment before calling Jon back, it felt like the dial tone was mocking her.

“Hello?”

“Hi-” It shocked her how raw her voice was. “Jon? It’s Sasha, what-”

“Sasha?! Where have you been? Christ what happened, where did you go? Elias said you were in artifact storage- Were you attacked? There were some things broken, including a tape recorder-” Jon paused to breathe, Sasha rested her hand over her eyes. “Where are you?”

It was like his words cracked the dam in her mind. And she remembered the thing and Micheal and Micheal protecting her. She remembered it sounded like her. The thought made her shiver.

“Sasha?”

“I’m- I’m at home. I-”

“Christ Sasha it's been three days! What have you been doing?”

She rubbed her head in slight frustration. “Damn it Jon, I don’t need you interrogating me like I killed your bloody dog!” Her eyes shot up at her own outburst and she scowled at nothing. She continued slightly calmer. “I passed out. Someone must have dropped me off at home.” Micheal. “I’ve been in bed since then, trying to tend to a bloody headache.” She didn’t have the energy to hear Jon question her why Micheal was saving her from mysterious creatures when she could barely understand it herself.

“Tim’s been worried sick.”

Sasha let out a dry chuckle. “I’m sorry. If I hadn’t been comatose in bed for the last few days I would have called sooner.”

“I’m sorry, Sasha, we are all on edge- Martin found Gertrude’s body and- I’m just glad to hear you alive. Elias is giving everyone time off and I’m sure you’d rather hear it from me so don’t try to show up for work, maybe the hospital though?”

“No, no I’m ok. Send my regards to everyone else. I might have caught a minor cold, I just need sleep. You need sleep.”

“Fine. Just take care of yourself.”

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It wasn't even a full hour later when the police, paramedics and an extremely freaked out Tim banged down her door asking questions. Thank you Jon.

"Three days, Sasha, three days and you have nothing to tell me??"

Tim had been silent as the grave when the police had asked her harmless questions and the nurse had looked her over. Now she couldn’t get him to shut up long enough for her to think.

"We got attacked by bloody worms and you disappeared and I thought you were dead and you have nothing to tell me?!"

Sasha scowled. "Tim, you sound like Jon."

"Like hell I do! Sasha please."

She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, rubbing her forehead. "You won't believe-" Well actually Tim really would believe her. It was the fact that he most certainly would believe her that was the issue. Because she didn't believe it. How could she? Why the hell would Micheal save her? Lord, she was so tired. "I'm not in the mood to have you yell at me."

"Ok, if I promise I won't yell at you, will you tell me what the hell happened?"

She shot him a look and he raised his hands in a peace sign.

"I was in artifact storage... There was something down there, it tried to- well-" Sasha couldn't seem to fully remember that part. "Micheal was there..."

"Micheal? You mean that thing that almost got you killed a few months ago? He tried to kill you?"

"No, no- he wasn't- he got me out."

Tim was shaking his head. "What?" She gave him another look and he stood to his feet. "No, no, I'm not angry, I'm just trying to understand. Why would he? And what was in artifact storage? They found that place torn to pieces, Sasha, what happened?"

"I don't know, Tim, I remember the thing, I remember Micheal came and grabbed me and I must have passed out because when I woke up I was in my bed."

"And that was today?"

"Yes."

"You don't remember a solid three days?"

She stood to her feet as well. "Dang it Tim, we are dealing with things we can't possibly begin to understand and you're giving me grief about losing time?"

"I thought you were dead. Christ I thought I was dead," He went silent for a moment, and Sasha blew out a breath.

"I'm glad you made it out, I'm sorry I lost you in the stairwell."

"You didn't." He shook his head. "I got cut off before that, ended up barreling into a wall and breaking through into some tunnel system."

"I'm sorry"

"We are both alive, don't apologize."

"And- and hows.." Everyone, everyone else.

Tim seemed to understand. "Everyone is just about traumatized but alive. Rattled since Martin found a body."

"Right, and whos-"

"Gertrude Robinson."

"And she was-"

"Shot through the chest."

"Right. forget I asked." Sasha rubbed her eyes once more. "I think I need to lie down, I'll call you tomorrow, ok?"

“If I agree to leave, then I want the full Micheal story tomorrow.”

She managed a small smile. “You are so nosy.”

“Only for my best friends. Now get some rest.” And he left.

Of course the last thing she planned to do was actually go to sleep. She had questions, and the yellow door in her kitchen was bound to lead to a few of those answers if it’d kill her. She really hoped it wouldn’t though.

Sasha knocked on the door and stood back, folding her hands in front of her chest.

Slowly, the door opened and Micheal peeked out, looking at her before entering the kitchen, the door wasn’t there when it closed. “You rang?”

“What happened?”

He refused to look at her. “And whatever could you be referring to?” He hummed, his hair falling too far on the floor, hiding his face.”

Sasha’s voice was barely above a whisper. “Micheal.”

“Sasha.”

“What. Happened.” She took a small step towards him.

He sort of flinched at her words. Maybe not, but he did flicker, fading out and in like changing the channels on an old tv. “What do you remember?”

She was sick of trying to piece it all together. “Not nearly enough.”

Micheal let out a short giggle. Sasha had been around him enough to hear the nervous tones in the sound. His gaze blurred to look at her before settling on the floor.

“You walked into the trap set by a creature of the circus. It did not get you.”

“Details, Micheal.”

He tipped his head to the side. “It would have rathered you forgotten. I-” A pause. “I would not have it posed as a mockery of you.”

“Wha- what?”

Micheal was looking at her now. “It takes the place, even in the place where It Knows You. Replaces you. People forget. You do not deserve to be forgotten.”

Sasha vaguely remembered a statement she was supposed to follow up on someone swearing their neighbor wasn’t who they were. The thought made Sasha pale. She shook the feeling.

“You saved me.”

It wasn’t a question, which was probably why Micheal didn’t respond. Simply stood there, a gentle sway of movement as it considered her. Finally he drew his hand out and pushed her hair out of her face, his fingers brushing her cheek. Not quite human, not quite natural, but soft. Warm. Safe.

“Some kind things shouldn’t be taken so soon.” He near whispered.

Sasha leaned into the touch, letting her head rest against his palm. It might have been stupid, she should back away, leave, but she wasn’t scared. Not of him. Never of him.

His thumb brushed over her lower lip. Lightly, quietly.

“I did not mean to take you for so long, time is such a fickle thing.” He muttered, closer than before.

“I’m not mad. Thank you.”

He was so close now. She could see the spiral in his irus. She could count the individual, albeit moving, freckles that spread out against his face. His smile was soft and not nearly as drawn out as usual. She could feel his hair curling around them, the way it brushed against her skin and left goosebumps in its wake. He smelled like a forest after it snowed. Fresh pine and possibly cinnamon. He let out a sigh and it washed over her face as a warm heat.

She couldn’t remember the last time she had been in a position like this. His other hand barely touched her waist and it broke her out of the dizzy haze she had found herself in, the shock like an electric zap that made her entirely too aware of how close he was to her, how very real this all was. The fear made her take a step back.

He backed up as well, his hands pulling away like she had physically struck him and it hurt her how much betrayal and anguish seemed to spread over his face all too quickly. “I’ll be going then.” He said flatter than she thought possible. No. “Goodbye archival assistant.” No. No. No.

His door was shutting behind him before she could even open her mouth.

Damn it.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sasha was quite sure she was losing her mind. She was on the way to meet Tim at some diner. Her head still hurt, and everytime she tried to go through the events of the previous day her vision was filled with static and panic would rise in her chest. She managed to not crash into the wall when walking up to the entrance to the diner and managed to find Tim easily enough.

"Hi, you made it."

She laughed slightly, "yeah, yes I did." And without getting herself run over.

"So I've been thinking about it, and I have a few follow up questions."

Sasha looked at the menu for a moment, nodding without making eye contact.

"Sooo this is the first time you’ve met since the cafe, he just randomly decided to save you?"

Sasha didn't meet his eye. "He's been popping around from time to time for a month or two now." She tried to say it casually, as if the heartbreak she felt last evening didn't happen. As if nothing was wrong.

"He's been popping around the Institute." Tim repeated slowly, "what a shame I haven't ran into him, I could have collected a check from Elias for him."

The waiter came over and took their order. Sasha begrudgingly handed the menu over and looked up at Tim. He still had an unreadable expression over his face.

"So," Tim started again. "You've been chummy with a monster for a whole month and you haven't shared this with me? I wouldn't have been trying to hook you up with someone at the bar if I had known you were already taken." He finished his quip with a devious smirk that left her burning.

"Tim! No, nothing like that!" Sasha scowled. "I barely know him-" the words tasted like rot in her throat. She couldn't kid herself like that. Because she had become comfortable around him. A friend. "He's my friend." She finally said aloud.

"Right. Not contradictory statements at all. Well Jon got the little recorder working and it caught the back end of a conversation between that thing and Micheal. Then Jon got to see Micheal! So it’s a win both ways."

Sasha gave him a perplexed look. "You seriously could have led with that, what happened? Is Jon ok?"

"Jon's Jon. But he's alive if that's what you're asking- but I'm not done with the questions, you are friends with him?"

"Can I have the tape recorder?"

"Yes I took the pleasure of getting that for you. Although just know you have to deal with him eventually and I'm not trying to intervene."

"What would I do without you?" Sasha said sarcastically as Tim handed over the recorder.

She pressed play. And the small click of the recorder spurred to life.

*“You are quite stupid with how you choose to act. The circus truly is full of clowns.”

“W h y d o y o u c a r e? W h a t b u i s n e s s d o y o u h a v e w i t h h e r?”

“I will not allow her to be forgotten. You do not get that satisfaction.”

"W h a t, y o u c a r e a b o u t h e r?"

“Yes.” A pause. “And she does not deserve to be changed by the likes of you.”*

A round of static muffled over the rest of the recording until it clicked off.

Sasha stared at the small recorder. She needed to leave.

Change. Micheal always seemed to hover on that. On being changed. Becoming something he perceived as broken. He was notebly upset. She didn't see him as broken, as monstrous, she just saw him as Micheal. And when he had gotten closer, all he could see was her fear.

But she wasn't afraid of him.

"Tim, I- I think I messed up yesterday. I need to go."

"Like hell you do!? Sasha what-"

"Do you know if there is still a yellow door in artifact storage?"

"Well I mean, pretty sure but-"

"Can you drive?"

Tim stood from his spot and let out a sigh. "Yeah." He gestured towards the door. "Let's go."

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

"Sasha I support you in your valiant relationship goals but you've got to be kidding me."

"Firstly, it's a friendship and I'm just fixing some communication that was left a little wobbly last night."

"Riiiiiiight. Late night communication gone array...now what does that sound like?"

"Oh shut up." Sasha walked up to the door and knocked.

Nothing.

She knocked again.

Still nothing.

"Maybe he's not home." Tim joked dryly.

"Shut up Tim." She grasped the door handle and twisted it. "Ok, I need a favor." She turned to Tim.

"Please don't do anything stupid." He groaned.

"Just, just do me a favor- don't tell anyone about this, I'm already about to be interrogated by Jon so in the very least I don't want this on the record."

"I feel like you are about to do something stupid."

"Just," she looked back at the door and opened it. "Trust me."

And with that, she stepped over the threshold.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------—--

The door groaned on its hinges as Sasha moved into the hallway, instantly catching herself on the wall as the floor dipped and moved beneath her. She blinked and tried to adjust to the neon shapes and colors that collided and merged on the walls and floors. It reminded her of some retro arcade carpet. A rug on the floor seemed to actually be a mirror and she was careful to step around it rather than potentially through it. Sasha tried not to forget to breathe as she walked through the twisting hallway.

It was like being in a funhouse. The floor had the same texture as sand and when she’d reach for the wall it would bend along with her weight, tossing her to the floor. It was hard to look at, everytime her vision moved it was like the colors would move with it, creating a blur effect that made her dizzy. She swallowed the static taste in her mouth that left her throat dry.

“Hello?” She sounded like she was underwater. “Micheal, I know you're in here, I need to talk to you.”

She tripped against nothing and caught herself on some end table. Sasha forced her brain to focus on moving rather than on any not-so-solid objects, looking up to see something at the end of the hallway. Something tall and lanky and just as distorted as everything else in this place. She noted the long wash of blond tangled together. Micheal.

“Archival Assistant.” His voice was a hollow echo. “Why are you here?”

She moved towards him, not risking to look away and nearly screaming when her foot didn’t seem to step on the floor and rather out into nothing.

For a small terrifying moment she was sure she was falling, her hand reaching out to grab something on instinct and curling around something. She felt long fingers grip her arms lightly, holding her in place. Sasha felt an ounce of relief, seeing blond hair stretched like taffy around them as Micheal steadied her. His face was a blur of colors.

“I need you to know, I- I- heard the tape.”

“That does not matter to me.”

Sasha shook her head. It was hard to string together a sentence in this place. “No- I need you to know that I’m not scared of you.”

“Do not lie to me.” He growled.

Her hands gripped the clothing around his forearms as she felt a spike of nausea inside her. “Last night. I wasn’t scared of you. Never of you.” Sasha hesitated. “I haven’t been on the receiving end of affection in a long time, it started me is all.” Her face burned as she pushed the words out. But she had more to say, and she felt she needed to be fast since her joints felt all wrong. “I don’t know what happened to you, why you hate what you are-”

He seethed and tried to pull away. “I do not.” She gripped him tighter.

“You claim yourself as broken, but Micheal, you’re beautiful.”

It was like someone flipped a switch. Instantly the room stopped moving, a jolting stillness that would have messed with her balance if she still wasn’t grounded to Micheal. Her ears popped again, her body felt like her own as she took a staggered breath.

Sasha looked at Micheal, he was crying. Water pooled on his cheek before floating off as if they were in space. The spirals in his eyes were looking everywhere but at her.

“I’m not, I’m not.” His words fractled around them and cut into her skin drawing blood, but there was no blood, no wound. Just her and Micheal in a hallway that didn’t exist. “It’s so cold.” He whispered finally.

She pulled him closer and wrapped her arms around him, feeling him bury his face in her shoulder, the wetness of his cheek drying on her shirt. “Do you want to talk about it?” She whispered back. “It won’t change anything for me, I’ll still be here, I’ll stay however long you need. Always for you.”

It was a long moment before Micheal spoke.

“He was led here.” Micheal uttered the words as if he was pulling a knife from his chest. “By her, the archivist, who did not care about innocent kind Micheal who was willing to do anything for her. Die for her. But he did not die. He did not die. He found the madness and made himself me.”

Sasha held him tighter as he struggled to get more words out. Finally he gave up and simply sat in her arms, taking shuddering breaths. What could she say? So she said nothing, and just breathed with him. It seemed to help though, his sways seemed more rhythmic and he let out some small content sound and lifted his head, not fully moving away just straightening to see her face.

“You should be scared of me.” He said. “I could unravel the archivist’s mind and watch as the ceaseless watcher pathetically tried to fix the pieces I had the mercy to leave.” His smile seemed to grow at the idea. “I could paint my hallways red with its blood and laugh as everything fell to madness. It's my nature after all.”

“He’s not her.” Sasha said quietly, His gaze quickly back on her soft features. There wasn’t fear in her eyes.

“I do not think I would mind.” He quipped, still looking at her.

“The part of you that is Micheal would mind.”

“So what?” He whispered. “He’s weak, and worthless-”

“Stop.” Sasha put her hands up to rest on his face. “He’s you. That matters. And as long as I’m here.” She paused, changing her mind. “As long as you let me, I’ll pull you out of the madness you’ve created for yourself. And I will do it unafraid.”

“I’m not human.”

“I’m aware.”

“I could kill you.”

“You saved me.”

“I can still kill the Archivist.”

“Isn’t he worth more to you alive?”

“He doesn’t confuse me.”

“Oh good,” Sasha smiled. “I wouldn’t want to have to compete with anyone.”

Micheal laughed at that and shifted, slowly placing a gentle, small kiss on her cheek. It was warm. “Sasha?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you.” She knew he meant it. Maybe even more than he did.

Sasha chuckled slightly, then hugged him again, feeling his fingers wrap securely around her. Safety, possibly even love, settled over her bones as she relaxed against him.

“You’re welcome.”

Chapter:

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

#yes this is technically a repost but i just didnt wanna keep having to link up four seperate parts to each individual chapter #kitsunesakii #not dead yet #WRITING #tma #the magnus archives #micheal shelly #micheal the distortion #sasha/micheal #sasha james #jonathan sims #tim stoker

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somuchforahobby · 22 days ago

Text

cracks in the road

Summary: After the events of Endgame, Valery and Bucky find each other again to cope with grief together. Words: 6 k Tags: Comfort + angst Warnings: mentions of alcohol and other forms of self harm (nothing bloody or graphic), depression and coping mechanisms of very damaged people Author's note: I may or may not have put my own grief into this This work is part of a series, make sure to check the masterlist Read on AO3

When Valery heard about Nat she suited up. But lost the battle as soon as Tony saw her coming.

Her grief could not be contained, and so she had been sent away. Locked.

She cried and burned for days in an unbreakable cell.

Her whole body had ignited for so long she could no longer feel her own fingers.

Eventually she passed out.

She woke up with an IV, uncertain of the amount of days that had passed.

Last time, when the blip happened, she burnt an entire valley after seeing Barnes disintegrate. That’s why Tony did not trust her on the field.

“It’s for your own safety,” He said.

“Dad, please. Let me help you.” She begged but he denied. At the end she just begged him to be safe and reminded him how much she loved him.

“No need to get cheesy, kid.” He dismissed her with a smile.

But this time was different, she could feel it. And it proved to be true when Steve had walked into her cell, bearing the news.

After that it was all a blur.

The fire, the smoke, the heat and the pain.

Mostly the pain.

—

Valery walked out behind Happy.

A candle on a piece of wood in her hand.

Somehow, the entire world’s grim was on her shoulders.

A finger on the wick and she let go. Along with the proof her father had a heart.

Dancing in the water.

Just like her parents, no body to bury, no grave to mourn.

A hand on her shoulder tried to comfort her, but she waved it off.

She was still wearing her gear. Useless, pointless, she thought.

So she sat on the shore, alone and in silence.

And weeped. Cried. Burned.

Everyone tried to comfort her but her body did not stop burning.

Suddenly it was dusk and a hand did not leave her shoulder, even when she was on flames.

Her heart sank even further.

Valery turned her head and saw him.

Her brows furrowed and without a single thought, she jumped in his arms.

His lips hovered on her temple, if he was saying something she didn’t know; his arms were rounding her back as her hands were hooked on his neck.

For hours all she saw was his jacket, neck and beard.

People would announce their leaving by patting her back but she would not even acknowledge them.

“We should leave, Val” Bucky whispered once the cold of the night had crept in, they were the only ones left in the lake. Valery’s head moved sideways. “It’s late, you need to sleep.”

“It should've been me” She mumbled to his chest and broke down crying again. The position of his hands shifted to caress the back of her neck with his right, while his left remained in her back.

“He’d never allow that.” He said to her temple and kissed her head again. “Let’s go, sweetheart.” He repeated, pushing softly to see her face. “Can you walk?” His blue eyes scanned her features looking for an answer, she nodded in silence and he turned to guide her to his car.

They hooked their hands together.

——

“Eventually I will have to go back” Valery said as she was rummaging through her Thai box.

“I figured as much” Bucky looked at her from the other end of the couch.

She had been crashing at his apartment for nearly two weeks. It was nothing romantic nor physical even, how could it be? They barely exchanged any words other than asking what to order for dinner and comfort words after the nightmares. They shared the bed, sure, but they also shared the silence of grief.

Outside everyone demanded their words, explanations, but inside they understood each other’s silence like they shared a mind.

“My team will probably start pacing in circles next week.” She joked and he huffed a laugh.

“Would that be so bad?”

“Terrible” her voice dripping sarcasm, “what would this world do without developing technologies for superheroes when there are no more superheroes?”

He did not answer, instead he offered, “you know you can stay here as long as you want.”

A soft smile crept her lips, pushing herself forward she asked, “you don’t mind?”

It was not a smile on his lips but the softest smirk when he looked her over, wearing one of his t-shirts, no makeup and her hair undone. Since he could not summon the bravado to speak, he merely moved his head sideways.

——

In her dreams, she is always running to get the glove before Tony.

But she never gets there on time.

She is always two or three steps away from him when he grabs it.

Begs him not to do it. Goes down on her knees asking him to let her do it instead.

She explains in heavy detail why her life is less valuable than his.

Why he should keep on living.

Why she have to pay him back and this is the way to do so.

But he always does it anyway.

And she gets to see it in slow motion.

She always wakes up choking on her own tears.

Screaming.

Trembling.

And she wakes up from the nightmare just to realize it’s real.

She is alone again.

But not tonight.

Tonight she woke up with strong arms around her, a warm hand massaging her scalp and a deep husky voice whispering sweet words in her ear.

I could get used to this, she thought, as she snuggled her head back on his chest.

——

“Can I ask you a question?” Valery started when he finally woke up.

His blue eyes focused on her as soon as they opened. “Good morning to you, too.” He mumbled, nuzzling his face on her hair. “you can”

“How was Wakanda?”

Something between a moan and a groan rumbled on his chest. He pulled her closer to him.

“was fine”

She searched for his face with furrowed brows, “fine? you come back with the healthiest hair and brightest smile and call it fine?” she teased.

The lightest smirk played on his lips, “what do ya wanna know, doll?”

The pet name nearly choked her, but did not react. “Everything”

He sighed, “everything it is, then” Bucky sat on the bed, looking over at her, “before or after I shower?”

“After is fine, I’ll get us breakfast in the meanwhile.”

She looked down to her phone to avoid his gaze and hide the redness that had just started to reach her cheeks.

——

“What do you mean you haven’t watched Star Wars?” She was supporting herself with an elbow on the bed.

He was laying next to her, a smile ghosting on his face. He chewed his lower lip in embarrassment and amusement, thinking carefully about his next words.

“Well I was busy being an instrument for an evil empire and I didn’t get the time to watch a science fiction movie about that very same thing.” He mocked.

She tilted her head in compassion but decided to avoid glooming the conversation.

“Well, everyone in Star Wars has a bionic arm so, yay, representation.”

He laughed, hard and loud, wrinkling his eyes and showing all of his teeth.

She looked at him laughing and figured it was the best thing she could do for him: to make him a little happier.

——

Valery had never seen Bucky cry before, well, she still didn’t see him, she just felt him cry.

She was falling asleep on his chest when she felt him shivering, taking long, deep breaths, and exhaling slowly; every once in a while he’d raise his right hand to wipe down his face but she’d never look.

She figured he’d be more comfortable.

She only hugged him tighter, the hand she had placed on his stomach, rounded his waist, almost like she was holding his ribcage and squeezed. He returned the gesture, holding her closer to him.

The long, shaky breaths turned into slow, relaxed ones after an hour or so, she wasn’t sure how much time passed.

She only knew they stayed like that for a long time, until he stopped crying and his breathing became even, falling completely asleep.

——

“Do you believe in, like, the afterlife?” She asked him after spending almost two hours trying to sleep.

“I think so, yeah. Do you?”

“I don’t know.” She turned on her side to see his face.

And there he was, with his big blue eyes open like plates, looking carefully at her; like she was something delicate that he might break or like she was a bomb about to explode. Or somewhere inbetween that.

“How do you believe in the afterlife?” She reformulated her question.

“I don’t know the Christian way, I think.”

“Do you believe Tony is hanging out in some sort of heaven, watching us, laughing his ass off?”

He breathed out and raised both his eyebrows.

“I don’t think he’d be laughing.”

“No?”

“He’d be fuming, I don’t think he’d react any other way to this.” He gestured to the space between them with a hand.

She smiled and nodded in agreement.

“I like to believe that someday I’ll see them again.” His voice was much more reflective than before.

“Them?” She turned to see him and he nodded.

“All the people from, you know, my time.” He swallowed and turned his sight to the ceiling again.

Without saying another word she turned on her side, giving him her back, and looked back to silently demand him to hug her.

He did.

——

His long, dark hair was sprayed all over her lap, she was braiding it like Nat had taught her. He was calm, his forehead, for once, wasn’t creased.

They were both having trouble sleeping so he finally agreed to let her braid his hair, after she begged for weeks. “It avoids breakage”, “keeps it clean”, “helps growth”, she repeated every night while he moved his head from side to side. But tonight she won.

It had been a few weeks since their roommate's situation, they were so used to each other by now, but still had not interacted much. She knew nothing of his life at the moment, neither did he. In some way, she felt he was the person who knew her the most and vice versa, but at the same time, they were strangers.

Strangers that slept together.

Helping each other to scare their nightmares away.

She was braiding a stranger’s hair.

A stranger’s hair that was achingly familiar to her fingers.

Careful. She thought to herself.

——

The morning was starting to shine through the curtains, his hand on her waist and hers on his chest. Their breathing calm and even until a phone rang.

It had to be Bucky’s because Valery had turned hers off since the funeral.

“Hello?” He answered with a hoarse voice. “Yeah, alright.” He passed the phone to her.

She looked at the flip phone like she was staring at a different century through a glass. “Hello?” She pressed it on her ear as she looked at him with a grimace.

“Valery, thank goodness I found you.”

It was Happy.

“Why did you call this number?”

He ignored the question, “There will be a reading of the will, you have to be here.”

She rolled her eyes and collapsed back into bed, Happy kept talking.

“You don’t have to come to work if you are not ready, we understand, but if you just could answer some emails and assign some tasks would be great. Sarah is very worried about you, she has been trying to reach out, would you mind if I give her this number?”

“Yes, I mind.” She snapped, her fingers were massaging her closed eyes. “The reading, when?”

“Monday, 9 am at the meeting room on the top floor.”

“I’ll be there.”

“And Val,”

“Yes?”

“Are you alright?” He sounded concerned, she swallowed her honest answer.

She huffed, “as good as I can be. See you on Monday and don’t call here again.”

“Then answer your phone.”

“bye Happy.” And she closed the phone.

“All good?” Bucky asked.

“What’s with the fossil?” She gave him his phone back, “there are better ones now.” She nestled back on his chest, laying her head on him and going back to sleep.

——

Her head could have exploded for all she cared. Her heart was stomping in her ears, her breath so ragged she could no longer feel her own hands. She had faked it for Pepper and Morgan, they drove her home and so Valery had hugged and played with her little sister while there was a hole on her own chest.

After waving goodbye it all came down like an avalanche.

She took the stairs to her apartment.

A spot.

The key out of her purse.

On the board.

Turn on the lights and drop the paperwork on the nearest table.

Unsellable.

She sank on the couch and weeped.

It was late at night when she woke up hungry, there was no restaurant open in PostMates, so against her own survival instinct she went out.

The walk back after the 24/7 chinese restaurant had been lonely. The darkness of the street consumed her but somehow comforted her as well. She was no longer afraid, her heart was not beating any faster, on the contrary, she felt dull.

That was what had made her stay with Buck in the first place. The lack of feeling scared her. She knew it was a sign for clinical depression and deep down she was scared of her own vile thoughts. But for a moment she allowed herself to walk through that numbness. Until a scream made her senses peak.

Valery followed the screaming for a block to an alley. She found a man cornering a young woman at gunpoint, while struggling to undo her pants.

“Leave her alone, dipshit.” Valery pushed him off. Now the gun was pointed at her.

Using herself as a shield, she stood in front of the victim. “Call the cops” she whispered to the shaky woman.

“They won’t make it on time” the man took a step closer to Valery, the barrel now pressing against her chest.

She huffed a laugh. Her fingers wrapped around his wrist, burning the man’s skin and making him drop the gun on instinct. Valery grabbed it and pointed back at him.

“On your knees” she cornered him against the brick wall on the other side of the alley.

“There are 41 emergencies before you” she heard the 911 machine on the victim’s speaker. The attacker laughed.

Valery fired a shot that graced the man’s ear.

He kept laughing, “you missed”

“You think so?” She pulled the trigger, the bullet ended on the wall above his shoulder. “Or am I just using an unorthodox method to call the cops?” She squatted to his eye level, pointing the gun between his opened legs. She fired again, the man gasped when the bullet flew below his crotch.

Standing again, she shot another three bullets to the ground before hearing the sirens. “And there they are.” Valery cleaned her fingertips off the weapon and moved to dissemble it, removing the forend and the barrel.

Valery took a step back, turning to the victim, “you gotta make a statement so this dipshit goes to jail” she instructed, “I gotta run, but good luck.” The woman nodded at her.

“Just one last thing” Valery returned to the attacker and connected a fist to his brow. “Bet that won’t hurt the ego as much as wetting your pants, disgusting coward.” With a laugh, she ran off.

The next morning she returned to work.

——

A scream, a burglar and her hand was already on fire.

For three nights she had been hiding in the streets of New York looking for a fight that brought adrenaline to her veins; the way her heart beated, the stress on her hands that made her arms tremble, the knot on her throat, her ragged breath. It reminded her she was alive, and she had an opportunity to make herself worthy. So she went out after work, gave a few second degree burns to thieves or rapists and went home with a smile on her face.

“How about a hand job first?” Valery asked with her hand on fire to the attacker in front of her, his dick already outside his pants, while he tried to stop his victim from screaming.

Valery pushed him off, earning a fist on her ribs. She pushed him off again but this time both her hands were on fire, the man jumped to the floor, rolling, trying to put the fire down. She then lit a circle of fire around him, sending it near his crotch.

“Disgusting, at least put it back in your pants.”

He did while dumbly staring at her, “what kind of monster are you?”

She scoffed, “you really got the fucking nerve” stepping directly into the fire, she kicked his groin.

Pulling out a gun from her waist, she shot the wall five times.

The attacker moved to a fetal position. “Not so eager now, uh? Come on, fight me, try to make me a victim, I fucking dare you asshole.” Another three shots to the floor, one above his head and two next to each leg.

Valery had learned to identify the closeness of sirens, so when they reached the corner she successfully fled.

——

The sound of something slapping woke her up. She jumped on the sofa to find Bucky looking down on her with furrowed brows and a newspaper on her coffee table.

“Jesus fucking Christ” she startled.

The sun was already out. Last night she had poured herself a whiskey, unzipped her suit to her hips and fell asleep on the couch.

“You’re not that lucky.”

“You could’ve fooled me with the long hair and the beard” She tried to joke but his scowl remained, “what are you doing here Buck?”

He pointed at the newspaper, its front page read ‘fire girl does it again!’, a smirk played on her lips.

“Fire girl doesn’t have a ring to it” she said uninterestedly.

“Damn it, Valery! This is just as fucking bad as developing an addiction”

Valery looked at him as he rambled, “You think I don’t know what you’re doing? this is a way of self hurt.” His eyes weary, he took a step closer to her, “I hate to see you like this”

She raised her eyebrows, “that is not the usual reaction to seeing me in underwear but thanks. Ya done?”

He continued pacing, “I knew you weren’t fucking sleeping”

She stood up stretching her back, “All right, Santa Claus”

“This isn’t a joke, Val! It’s dangerous! Look at your ribs, my god”

She turned to look at the current black bruise where last night’s attacker had connected a punch. “It doesn’t even hurt.”

Bucky scoffed, walking back to her with an accusing finger, “stop this fucking vigilante shit, Valery.”

“no, I won’t” She waved his hand away, “it makes me feel alive” the glint in her eyes made Bucky turn away.

“This isn’t what your father would—“

“And this” she snapped her fingers, “isn’t what I wanted him to do either” her voice gained a grim tone, “but he did it anyway while he locked me away so I couldn’t stop him!”

“He did it so you wouldn’t get hurt!”

“Well too bad he can’t do it anymore” she swallowed as the tears gathered in her eyes.

Bucky took a step forward, his guard down, “Valery, please.”

“You don’t understand, Buck” she had a weary smile, “I have a purpose now”

He faced the floor for a few seconds before saying, “alright”

“Thank you”

“I’ll go with you.”

“WHAT?!” She spatted.

He shrugged.

“I don’t need a babysitter”

A sarcastic smile filled his face, “think of it as group therapy.”

It was her turn to laugh, “a group of two?”

“We don’t want to crowd it, now do we? See you tonight catwoman.” He winked before leaving her apartment.

——

“Hey, man, help me!” The attacker yelled just before Valery kicked his jaw.

Bucky leaned against the wall, “Nah, I’m good”

The man fell to the ground with a loud thump, Valery squatted next to him, “he just likes to watch” she said with a cheeky grin.

——

“You don’t cover your left” He was cleaning a wound on her left shoulder.

“No way” Valery hissed ironically.

Bucky’s eyes were focused on her flesh, carefully cleaning the dirt out. They were sitting on the couch of her apartment, the TV on with a sitcom to distract her mind from the pain.

“Stop bragging and focus on your opponent. You are so busy posing that you lower your guard and let these things happen.” He explained while applying alcohol on a gauze.

Earlier, Valery had gone against a rapist, but the jerk had cut her with a knife, drawing a line from her shoulder blades to her clavicle.

A striking pain hit her when the white fabric touched her skin. “This is probably going to leave a scar.”

She turned to see him and his eyes raised to hers.

“Oh no, now men will find me disgusting,” she mocked.

He merely scoffed. The warmth of his breath on her skin gave her chills.

She turned back to the tv, hiding the rising blush of her cheeks.

His deft fingers sew her up in no time.

The next morning she removed the bandage to find smooth skin.

——

“My therapist recommended that I go on a date” Bucky started while Valery unclasped her gun.

She shot the floor three times, “And have you?”

The soldier moved his head sideways. “Wanna grab dinner someday?”

Her brows furrowed.

The man on the floor attempted to stand up, she sent a flame to his back, making him fall on his knees again.

A circle of fire surrounded him.

“I think Dr. Raynor meant that—.”

“How do you know her name?”

Valery scoffed. “Same way you know my schedule”

“mmm”

“You should ask someone you like”

“‘S what I’m doing” he mumbled, kicking the dirt on the floor.

“Do you like me?” She practically squaked.

Bucky scoffed, “Do you think I go around babysitting vigilantes?”

Her gaze returned to him, “I thought you weren’t babysitting”

Sirens echoed on the street.

“There’s your cue” His head leaned to his shoulder. His lips in a firm line as he walked away from the scene.

“Yes” she said, catching up to his step, “I’d like to have dinner.”

He nodded with the barest of smiles. “Like right now?”

She laughed, “I think you should give me the chance to wear a nice dress.”

A shy smile spread on his features, “alright.”

——

“No saving the world tonight?” Bucky asked from the threshold of her bedroom, looking as she put the clean laundry away.

“Not in the mood.” Valery answered without looking back, she was already in pajamas and barefoot.

“Did you eat today?”

She finally turned at him, “No”

“Mmm” the crossed arms on his chest made him look wider, “thought so. Come, I brought your favorite.”

He extended a hand to guide her to the food, and she took it.

“What’s wrong, doll?” He asked once she was munching.

“It was one of those days.” She took a sip of her soda, “I had to speak at one of Tony’s charities.”

His brows furrowed, “Tony?”

“Yeah, he had like a hundred and they still have ev—“

“Why are you calling him Tony?”

“He is not my father, you know that”

“He was, Val. What changed?”

“Since when did you become his biggest fan? You couldn't stand him!”

“That does not answer my question.” His arms were crossed on his chest, his shoulders raised. An impenetrable wall against lies.

“He lied to me” she finally spat, “he said my parents came from Romania and that is a lie, they do not exist.”

“What do you mean they don’t exist?”

“When they died, Child Services notified the Embassy and they replied saying my parents did not exist in the Romanian database. That’s why no one claimed me.” She gestured with both hands.

His brows had sunk deeper into his forehead, “and how is that Tony’s lie?”

“Because I knew it all along! The attorney gave me a folder with my name on it the day of the reading. Like five pages of research he did on me.”

“Still, he didn’t lie to you.”

“He just did not share the truth with me.” She moved her head sideways, mocking the irony.

He remained silent, watching her eat.

“Do you want to find them?”

Her gaze returned to him, widened and something else he could not quite describe. “They’re dead.”

“But Grandparents, aunts, uncles?”

She thought about it for a minute before nodding, “but not now, I already have too much on my plate.”

An easy grin adorned Bucky’s face. “Then eat.”

She smiled at his attempt at a joke, “Did you lose a bet?”

“Uh?”

“The hair”

The long locks of dark hair were gone, replaced by something near a buzzcut. “It’s part of the therapy, cutting all ties to the winter soldier and all.” Bucky lowered his gaze to the food, moving the leftovers on the plate.

“It looks nice”

His eyes raised to her again, one eyebrow further up than the other, “it does?”

She nodded with a smile.

“Thanks” he muttered with a shy smile.

——

“It’s not fair that some random, who kicks and punches gets to be called ‘devil’” she did air quotes with her fingers as they walked off the dark street, “and I, who literally set things on fire with my bare hands, am simply, ‘firegirl’.”

Bucky turned to look over his shoulder, to make sure no one was following, “You should take your issue to the vigilante board, call Peter.” He said with a grin.

“Hey, don’t laugh, terminator.” Her finger touched his chest.

——

“Val, wait” Bucky called.

“She doesn’t have time, Buck.”

A shattered screaming echoed through the streets. Valery kept running towards it with Bucky following nearby. She heard it so clearly, a woman struggling, crying for help. It scratched her brain how no one else answered to those cries, so she hurried her step.

But whenever she was close, the echo led her further.

“I’m telling you, I don’t like this” With a hand on her wrist, Bucky made her turn to him. And faster than she could notice, he was cornering her against a wall.

“So you are ready to let a woman be abused because you have a bad feeling in your tummy?” Valery mocked.

He sighed, “This is not a bad feeling Valery, this is survival instinct trained for years by the US militia, then Hydra, then the Avengers. So I’d say we listen.”

“Yeah, or maybe it's senile dementia”

He grunted but did not let her go.

“Call the cops, wait here for them.” Although he did not say it, his tone was begging.

“You listen to your instincts, I’ll listen to mine.” The palm of her hands landed softly on his chest, pushing him off. “If I don’t come back in ten minutes, call a responsible adult, Buck.” She ran towards the alley.

It was a dead end, a couple was standing behind the dumpster.

Valery saw a man, cornering a young girl, but the lack of light did not allow her to see much more.

“Leave her alone, you creep” She ordered.

The attacker did not turn. Valery could hear them whispering.

“I said to leave her alone” She sent a fireball to the man’s back.

The attacker turned to her with a mischievous smile, “Good of you to make your acquaintance, firegirl.”

The girl remained rooted to the wall, she was also staring at Valery with a smile.

“Well that is a lame name” she lit both her hands on fire, “and you are not a damsel in distress” Valery said to the victim.

“Oh, but you will be,” The woman replied with a thick accent. She was wearing black fighting gear, her long blonde hair loose on her shoulders.

“Who are you and what do you want?” The fire on her hands was fiercer.

The man took a step forward, “oh? we were also wondering who you are,” He also had an accent, though much subtler than hers. His black hair fell on his forehead, making his grey eyes seem brighter. “but we will find out when we take you back”

Valery maintained the distance, taking a step back whenever he took a step forward. “back to where?”

He chuckled, “you’ll see for yourself” He lounged to her, a hand on her neck pushing her against the wall.

The fire in her hands reached his chest, forcing him to let her go. Before she could pull her next punch, Barnes was in front of her, taking the attacker away from her.

The woman launched at her, but Valery threw her to the ground, settling on top of her.

The hit had been mostly on her head, for a few seconds the women’s eyes were closed. “Leave” she muttered as she opened them, “leave and hide before they find you again”

Valery kept her place above her, “who are they and why do they want me?”

Somewhere on the other side of the alley. Bucky was punching the other guy.

The distraction put her back to the floor while the woman subdued her. “I don’t know, but don’t let them get you.”

“who are you?” she muttered, gasping for air.

Her eyes were watery when she answered, “I don’t know”

Suddenly she had been pulled away and the air reached Valery’s lungs again. Bucky threw her over his shoulder with no effort and fled.

“What the fuck was that?” Valery asked once they were inside Bucky’s apartment. He had insisted it was safer ‘it has less windows’ like if the lack of natural light was something to aim for.

“That” he muttered, pouring a drink, “was hydra” he extended a glass to her.

She grabbed it, downing the whiskey in one shot. “How would they know about me?”

“Maybe because you have been parading around?” His brows lifted, “That explains why Tony kept you under radar.”

“Well shit”

He sat next to her on the bed.

“There’s a super soldier and a widow after you.”

All the time after the incident, she had been steady, calm. But as the adrenaline levels dropped, she started to tremble.

“It’s just a matter of time” she mumbled, “they’re gonna find me, Buck”

With one arm over her shoulders, he guided her to a hug, “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.”

Valery looked up to him, and for a minute allowed herself to really stare. There were dark circles around his eyes, lines started to form on his forehead and some grey hairs were on his temple.

Suddenly her heart was beating too loud and her stomach was upside-down.

Taking a deep breath she called, “Buck?”

“Yes, doll?” His bright blue eyes turned to her, kind and patient, a sight that was hard to find in him.

It was an instinct, a reaction, a lack of better judgment or whatever people say to justify their reckless impulses, what made her push herself up his chest to kiss his lips.

A soft recognition began, all the unsaid tenderness kept between them afloat.

But as he cupped her jaw and lowered his hand to the small of her back to push her closer, it evolved to something else, to the starvation they were both in; suddenly it was a famished gnaw of teeth and unfed desire.

In her quest for more, her knees moved to each side of his hips, adventuring her fingers on his chest.

Like riding a bike, the muscle memory of their bodies flushed together supplemented the shock of their actions.

“Val this is just” he pulled away, regaining his breath, “this is just the adrenaline finding a way out”

Her hungry eyes stared at his lips, “Is it?”

With a low whimper, he closed his eyes as if to avoid committing any further offense. “We should re evaluate tomorrow”

She stood from his lap, “on our date?” A playful grin on her lips.

“Of course” he conceded, eyes still closed and head leant against the headboard.

“Wanna help me find a shirt?”

He scoffed, “I’mma need a minute here, hun”

“A minute, uh? So you really are old.” She mocked while searching in a drawer, “this is new”

With wide eyes he saw her extending a green shirt that read “US ARMY” on the chest. She turned it for him to see the front.

“You can have it if you want.”

Valery took a step to him, her brows furrowed “are you active again?”

“I cut a deal, Val”

“Buck” her voice showed concern, “the last thing you need is another war. You’re a veteran, you deserve a house in the woods and a quiet life.”

He scoffed, “I deserve jail time.” All the tenderness in his eyes disappeared, “I was the world’s best assassin, I can’t just retire.”

“It wasn’t you.” She muttered.

“Unless Congress publishes a special law to judge brainwashed murderers, I am guilty as charged. And that” he pointed at the shirt, “is my probation.”

With a grimace, Valery folded the shirt and put it back in the drawer, “is not a hundred percent cotton anyway” she pulled out a blue shirt and headed for a shower.

“Hey, that’s Steve’s!” He shouted from across the room.

“Oh?” A teasing smile on her lips, “and does it turn you on, Bucky?” She winked before closing the door of the bathroom.

——

She should’ve known something was off the minute he knocked on her door. Still, Valery opened with a smile, twirling in her heels to show off the little black dress she wore for their date.

In the hallway, Bucky remained silent, his eyes carrying the grief of a disaster, waiting for it to happen.

“What’s wrong?” She opened the door wider for him to walk him, his grimace made her stomach turn.

He passed by her, grabbing her wrist and guiding her to the sofa. “Valery” He sat in front of her, cupping both her hands in his.

She looked at him with widened eyes.

“We should wait”

All the worry that had balled into her stomach moved to become boiling anger, but still she asked, “wait for what?” it was barely above a whisper.

Bucky’s gaze was focused on their hands, “for us to be whole”

“I don’t understand”

“I am not ready for a relationship” His answer was sharp, almost immediate.

The words stung her head. A fist to her brow could’ve disoriented her less.

She blinked. Once, twice.

“What do you think this is?” she regained her voice, her long forgotten guard up again.

He sighed, the realization that whatever it was, it was over hit him.

“I don’t know”

“So a date scares the shit outta you. Not this thing we have been doing for months, sleeping together, waking up tangled, sharing our feelings, kissing—”

“I—” he sighed, physically struggling to pull the words out, “I can’t give you a relationship, Valery, not right now, we are both too damaged, we need to heal first”

“Heal?” Her brows furrowed, “people like us don’t heal, Buck” She regretted her words the second she saw his eyes sadden. A hidden and broken expectation of ever getting better.

He looked away before letting her see more, “I will still try” it was a mumble. He swallowed, “We can be friends for a while”

She scoffed, a cruel smirk on her lips, “We can’t be friends”

His eyes raised again, vulnerable and begging, “It’d be just for a while, we just need to wait”

“wait for what? for you to decide if I deserve your love? and in the meanwhile, what? I am your eternal situationship until you decide whether I am relationship material or find someone else?”

“No” both hands covered his face, “I just—I don’t want to screw this up”

The tears finally fell down her cheeks as she stood up and opened the door of the apartment. “I think you already did, Buck.”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x ofc

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would-this-pokemon-be-a-friend · 1 year ago

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Would A Fennekin Be A Good Pet?

It’s Indigo Disk release day! Or, well, it sort of came out last night where I live. But anyways! I hope everyone who plays has fun with it! For today’s Indigo Disk Week post, let’s take a look at the fantastic fan-favorite fennekin! Anyone familiar with this blog won’t be surprised to hear that fennekin, a fire-type starter, gets a B rank. While some particularly prepared people may be able to handle a fennekin, they might not be the best pets for some owners.

They check all the pet compatibility boxes that all starters have so far. Fennekins are the perfect size to be a pet, and their friendliness is second to none. As common first partner pokémon for trainers in the Kalos Region, fennekins have a long history of being great companions open to training. Also, unlike some fire-type pokémon, fennekins don’t have any open flames on their bodies. While they are a bit of a fire hazard (more on that later), they aren’t as rough as some. That being said, be very careful when handling a fennekin: their huge (adorable) ears act as vents for hot air generated when they eat that can reach temperatures as hot as 390 degrees Fahrenheit (X)!

Unfortunately, there isn’t very much data in the pokédex about wild fennekin behavior. We do know that they like to munch on twigs, which allows them to build up the hot air inside their bodies which they can use for various means (X, Y). It’s unclear if twigs are the only thing that fennekins eat. I’d suggest feeding your fennekin alternative snacks in order to prevent the build-up of dangerous heat, but there isn’t enough information to decide whether or not fennekins need to eat twigs or build up said heat to survive.

The heat that fennekins build up can be used in battle to make use of a variety of fire-type moves that present significant risks of harm to you and your home. Fire-type starter classics like Fire Spin and Flamethrower are there, as well as a handful of psychic attacks for good measure. If a fennekin were to attack you, the results could be disasterous. As far as we know, this species isn’t particularly aggressive. When facing a threat, they first try to intimidate their foe with puffs of hot air through their ears (Y), so at the very least you would have some warning before an attack occurred. With proper training, the risks associated with keeping a fennekin may be mitigated (and who knows, maybe they don’t need their twig snacks to survive anyways), but we do need to consider these risks. Accidents happen, as do tantrums and play that gets out of hand.

If you are someone who is prepared to take on the risks inherent to fire-type pokémon (and invest in some fire-proof furniture for good measure), you should be able to handle a fennekin with little issue. However, if you are inexperienced with this type of pokémon, a fennekin might be too big a challenge to meet safely. All that being said, I know I’m not gonna stop anyone from adopting a fennekin. It’s fennekin!

#pokémon #pokemon #fennekin #pkmn irl #PR-B #the indigo disk

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kitcat992 · 7 months ago

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Identity Within︱Chapter 12 - Wedding Crashers (PREVIEW)

“No!”

Peter’s shoes came to a screeching halt against the parking garage pavement. Any harder and he was sure they would’ve caught on fire.

“No, no — c’mon, no!” His index finger tapped relentlessly and repetitively against the device, practically smashing his bone against the already cracked screen — if his outburst caused more damage along the way, he honestly wouldn’t have known. “You had enough juice left to turn on! C’mon, turn on!”

As many times as Peter tried, the little bit of ghost power he managed to capture was all but gone. It didn’t matter what button he pressed, how long he pressed it for, how many times he smashed his fist against the screen — definitely causing a crack that time.

“Turn on again, please turn on again, please please please just turn on again!”

The parking garage captured his voice in an echo.

It was the only response to his plea.

Peter ran a shaky hand through his hair, careless to how the fidget in his fingers messed up the style he had perfectly created earlier that morning. A large strand fell in front of his eyes; undoing hours of work and almost blocking his view of the black screen from the device held in his hand.

The reflection of his face against the dead cell phone was almost enough to make him say a very, very bad word.

This was not good.

This was not good at all.

“Oh, Mr. Stark’s going to kill me.” Peter threw his head back with a groan that rattled every rib bone in his chest. And yet still, not even that was enough to vocalize how bad things were.

Bad was running late for Mr. Stark’s wedding — a wedding that over a year ago he would’ve never dreamed to be invited to, let alone be a part of the ceremony. Bad was running even more late because he couldn’t find where the groom’s suite was, and bad was needing the bride to walk him there, inducing an amount of embarrassment he wasn’t sure he’d ever recover from.

Bad was even forgetting how to dress his tie — but this?

Losing Mr. Stark’s wedding rings?

Peter’s face grimaced tight enough that his eyes squeezed shut and his eyelids felt like were starting to rip apart. Mr. Stark had made those wedding rings. He couldn’t believe he lost those rings, the same rings he watched Mr. Stark personally handcraft — handcraft with material that wasn’t exactly something he could pick up at any ‘ol store, as if the rings could be easily replaced and remade.

The thought was harsh enough that Peter could feel his teeth ground even harder together.

He knew those rings came from the arc reactor that got Mr. Stark home from Afghanistan.

He knew all about how Pepper was the one to insist Mr. Stark keep it, turning it into a memento that stayed with them throughout the duration of their relationship.

During their first lab nights together, Peter would always catch eye of it across Mr. Stark’s workshop, in awe of what he got to see in person — always noticing how the lights created a glare against the words that were encased safely inside a glass box — ‘Proof That Tony Stark Has A Heart’ always on display, up until now.

He had to find those rings.

“Okay, I have like….twelve minutes to figure this out. I just need to find whatever room Ms. Potts was in, and then retrace my steps from there.” Peter squeezed his phone tightly, while his other hand scratched roughly at his head — any hopes of maintaining his hairstyle long gone by now. “This can’t be too hard, right? I just gotta remember which direction May went before we split up…”

While the parking garage was barely a minute’s walk to the cathedral, Peter knew once he got back to the church, any direction could lead him just about anywhere. He’d already wound up lost in the building before, now he didn’t have a single second to waste finding his way around the building.

The parking garage went one of two ways. Peter looked left, then right, then left again, before—

—a sharp tingle sent goosebumps throughout his skin—

— Peter spun around, instinctively, impulsively, without thought—

“—sleeeeeeeeeepppp.”

A hand yanked at the back of his head, tugging at his hair, forcing him still as something pressed firmly against his mouth — sealed around his mouth, leaving no room for fumes to escape anywhere else but inside the depths of his lungs.

Peter’s eyes rolled to the back of his head as his knees slowly sank to the ground, eventually collapsing onto the pavement; with the hold he had on his cell phone growing weak and lax, until it fell away from him completely.

His vision went as black as the cracked screen of his phone.

#fanfiction #peter parker #tony stark #irondad #marvel #writing #fanfic #spiderson #mcu #spider-man

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tomtenadia · 1 year ago

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Detours to You - Ch 12

Good weekend everyone!!! Ready for an another chapter?

MASTERLIST

Two days had passed from the fire and Rowan’s house had been transformed quickly in a chaos of toys. Although Maya was good at tidying up at night before bed, during the day his house was mayhem. And he was happy. His two girls were still recovering from the shock. Aelin had taken a couple of days off work after Elide and Lysandra had forced her to. Maya had been quieter than usual and that worried him. Both of them were struggling to sleep and in the past two nights he had found himself sandwiched between them. Maya would climb at his front and just cling to him, while Aelin played big spoon and rested against his back. He knew they were both struggling. He would have loved to stay at home with them but there was so much to do and he was helping the police with the investigation on the building fire. The previous day he had gone and collected the last few belonging boxed in the flat and finally closed that chapter of their lives. Rowan hated not being with them but he knew that Aelin was going back to work and would take Maya with her. They had called the school and explained the situation and Rowan had gone to the school to get Maya’s homework and the last lessons she had missed. Being in primary school it was still basic stuff but he felt that it was important and he and Aelin had been helping her at night.

That morning he was standing outside the tall block of flats and waiting for Captain Falliq and the chief of OFI. They were meant to go inside the building and try to find more proof of what caused the fire. They had the mechanics but now they had to discover the why and Nersys was positive it was arson.

Connall Moonbeam was the first one who met him. He was Fenrys brother. They had all done the academy together. Fenrys was still on active duty at station 3 but Connall had to retire from active duty after an accident during a fire that left him with bad lung problems and a problematic leg so he found a permanent position in the office for fire investigations and slowly made his way up the ladder.

“Morning Con,”

“You really are back, I thought Fen was taking the piss.”

Rowan laughed “Yes, I am.”

“And Chief nonetheless. Good, we did need a change of leadership.”

The both remained in silence while they waited for Nersyn to arrive.

“Do you really think it’s arson?”

“Nes thinks so.”

Connall sighed “You know how hard it is to prove and from what you told me this building was badly managed anyway. I need to make sure that the actual cause is human intervention and intentionally caused.”

“I know, I did try and explain to her but she believes Hamel was trying to get rid of this residential building to transform it into a business one,” he added with restrained fury “Apparently flats are not profitable. No matter that the monster charges an extortions for rent.”

Not long after, the captain emerged from her car and Rowan smiled at her wearing safety shoes and a hard hat. He had explained her the risks of entering a building after afire.

“Good morning guys, Sorry I am late but I was checking an anonymous tip we got about this fire. The person believes this was intentional. Apparently someone else had eyes on this building to make it commercial.”

Rowan was furious. Where were people meant to live if every rich bastard decided that buildings in the city centre were only good for business?

The three of them entered the building and slowly made their way to where overhaul had identified the origin point.

Rowan walked to the main switchboard and with his torch illuminated the panel “It originated here,” he showed them the scorch marks of the origin point. Slowly he removed the panel and showed them the mess of the cables.

“That is not safe.” Added Connall, staring at the mess of badly tangled cables, they all looked ruined by years of bad maintenance but there was nothing pointing to arson.

Rowan would definitely jail the bastard just for negligence.

“Rowan, go back there, please?”

He pointed the light back to where Connall had indicated and they spotted a cable with a clean cut “This has been snapped with tools. And see the protective plastic around? It’s peeled back to expose the cables but it’s far too perfect and neat. This was deliberate.”

“Do you think they keep maintenance logs? Any trace of who was the last person to come down here? Only technicians have access keys to this panel.”

Nesryn took some notes “I am sure I will be able to find that for you.”

Rowan walked around the ruins of the place until his feet ended up in a puddle “Water, the guy had mentioned water too.” With his torch he followed the trail and noticed that the wall had all the marks of an internal water leak. With his axe he hit a specific point and water burst out with force, beneath it the electrical wiring was fried. Connall helped him to open the hole a bit more and with their torches they inspected the inside “If I remember the blueprint correctly, this is just below the flat that was the epicentre.”

“Shall we go upstairs?” Prompted Rowan, while already moving. The other two followed suite. As per protocol the flat had been boarded up but Connall and Rowan were two people who had the authority to go in so they slowly took down the boards and stepped in. The flat was a mess of burnt items. He could still see the signs of a family living there. A mother and her eighteen years old daughter. Their dreams, their hopes. All destroyed because of one man’s greed.

According to the report from his men, the fire in that room had been brutal. The kitchen had gone up in seconds and for the two women there had been no escaping. Rowan and Connall moved the appliances and found traces of sparks too and then water. They inspected the building for a good hour while Nesryn followed them in silence and took notes of their theories. The cut cable was a definite proof of a deliberate act, but the rest seemed like gross misconduct. Now it was her turn to piece all the details together and build up a case strong enough to jail Hamel forever.

When they finally exited the building the cop took a deep breath of fresh air, while Connall removed his white face mask to prevent him breathing dust particles that would cause him issues.

“This was very interesting and I have collected a lot of images and notes to help with my investigation. I have the copies of your reports as well so hopefully I will have something more solid soon.”

They thanked the cop and both men remained alone “This was sick.” Added Connall.

Rowan’s stare was on the top floor where Aelin and Maya lived. A barrage of what ifs crossed his mind. They had been quite far from the fire but still… If… If… If… Now that flat lay empty and his two women were safe at his house, he had to concentrate on that, for the sake of his sanity.

“I will send you and Nes any updates as soon as we analyse the samples I took.”

“Keep me posted, please.”

The two men said goodbye and Rowan jumped back in his pickup and drove to the bookstore.

Working helped. Aelin felt much better after a whole morning surrounded once again by books and her two friends. Maya had been in a better mood too and spent the morning in the children section or helping her mum shelve books.

She was busy helping a customer when she spotted the white shirt and dark jacket of the chief of the TFD entering the premises and Maya’s scream of joy at seeing her father.

“Dad!!” She ran to him and Rowan lifted her up effortlessly.

“Hi munchkin, how are you?”

She lifted Elf “we have been helping mum with all the books.”

With Maya still in his arms, he walked to the counter to greet Elide and Lysandra.

“We kept an eye on them, being busy helps a lot.”

“Dad, I fixed the kids section.”

“You did?” He kissed her “Show me.”

Father and daughter walked towards the back of the shop and Aelin joined her two friends.

“He is so adorable with her.”

Aelin stared at Rowan listening to what Maya was saying and agreed. Rowan was amazing with her.

“Lorcan asked me if I want one too.”

Both women squealed “What did you tell him?”

“Yes, of course as long as they are not a grumpy little thing like their father.”

“Now we have to convince my cousin Aedion to pop the question and make Lys a married woman.”

Lys rolled her eyes “If he doesn’t get a move on I am going to propose.”

Elide clapped her hands happily “Look at us responsible women.”

“Rowan needs to pop the question too.”

Aelin stopped “Rowan and I… it’s complicated.”

“In what universe? You already have a daughter and now live together too. You are basically married without the paperwork.”

“And didn’t you kiss the other night?” Added Elide.

“It was just to comfort me. It was sweet but it had nothing sexual about it.”

“Sure, but it moved something, eh?”

It did. Old feelings had started to come back quickly and being in the same house with him was not helping. She was torn between the version of five years before who was madly in love with him and the new version who was still struggling with his return and was scared of trying again.

“Maya is the most important thing just now. My needs can wait.”

“Until you two are alone in that big house of his and he can finally have your way with you and make you scream so hard you scare the squirrels.”

Aelin burst out laughing “Lys, you definitely read too many romance books.”

“No such thing.” She added quickly.

“We are just saying that the sexual tension between you is thick and we are expecting fireworks when you finally decide to stop being stubborn.”

Rowan came back with Maya half holding three books in her hands “dada bought me some books.”

“You are a bad influence,” joked Aelin, while taking the books from her daughter.

“As long as she is asking me to buy her books, I am happy to indulge her.”

“Also, I come here with an invitation,” he started “The annual hockey game between TFD and PD is on the 22nd. I know you are closed like all the shops for a couple of days and you are invited.” He turned to Lys “Aedion is welcome too if his job at the academy allows him to.” Aedion had been in the army for a very long time and when he retired he was offered a job as trainer for the recruits.

“It’s a good thing that you are back. We have been loosing for the past few years and Westfall has been a dick about it and brags to no end.”

Aelin glared at Elide for the D word and the young woman froze.

“Mama what is a dick?”

The adults froze “Maya, auntie Elide meant a stick.”

The girl seemed to accept the answer and went back browsing her books in silence.

“I will let you know all the details and give the tickets to Aelin.”

Rowan then kneeled beside Maya “I have to go back to work, but you keep company to mum and I will see you tonight.”

Maya wound her arms around his neck “Thank you for the books,” a kiss on his cheek.

Rowan kissed her back then stood and then pulled Aelin to him depositing a soft kiss on the crown of her head “I should be home by six.”

In response she leaned against his chest and nodded “be careful.”

“Always.” He pulled back, saluted the women and disappeared.

“Sure, no feelings.” Added Elide.

“He is totally disgusted by you.” Continued Lysandra.

Elide lifted Maya on the high chair “What do you think, little one? Your mum and dad like each other?”

The girl nodded energetically “Yes. Mum is happy.”

Aelin stared at the door where Rowan had disappeared and thought about her daughter words. Yes, since he came back she had felt happier. She had found herself craving his presence.

Maybe she was too afraid for nothing.

taglist

@rowaelinismyotp @swankii-art-teacher @whimsicallyreading @elentiyawhitethorn @aelin-bitch-queen @bruiseonthefaceofhumanity @mis-lil-red @thegreyj @sailorsassley @leiawritesstories @clairec79 @morganofthewildfire @sv0430 @heartless--aromantic @autumnbabylon @rowanaelinn @backtobl4ck @susumaus98 @gracie-rosee @mybloodrunsblue @tanvee1231 @avenrebekah @whoever-you-choose-to-love @theywillnotsingforme @universallytreepost @black-daisy-water @goddess-aelin @whispers-in-the-darkest-heart @lovely-dove-zee @athena127

#rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #rowan x aelin #rowaelin fanfiction #rowaelin fanfic #aelin x rowan #rowanwhitethorn #throne of glass fanfiction #aelin ashryver galathynius #rowaelin kids #domestic fluff

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