#GOD I LOST HALF OF THIS LAST NIGHT AND ALMOST CRIED BUT ITS OKAY BECAUSE ITS A LITTLE BETTER THIS TIME AROUND | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

anabsolutetrainwreck · 4 years ago

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it’s just what we know || h. styles

warnings: dad!harry, talks of pregnancy, slight mention of vomit, talks of kissing

word count: 1.6k

summary: having your second child takes its toll on you and your relationship...

Your daughter was three now. And yet it only felt like yesterday that you’d brought her home from the hospital. She’d certainly tired you and Harry out for a good while after she was born. You both loved Vera unconditionally, so when you discovered you were pregnant again, Harry was worried he’d lose a bit of his love for Vera to give to your new baby. He was scared he didn’t have enough love to share between the three of you.

He’d spend his nights awake, his hands resting on your stomach. Anne had assured him that the love one has for one’s family is never limited. There’s always enough affection to go around. Your own father had said something similar, though it was slightly less poetic.

Your second pregnancy had been far worse than your first. You felt constantly exhausted, dehydrated and sick. It amplified Harry’s guilt immensely. He already felt bad about not being able to love Vera the same as he did when she was an only child, but now you were in pain and there was nothing he could do about it. All he could do was help you sleep comfortably, fetch you water whenever you needed, hold your hair back when you were disposing whatever food you had eaten into the toilet, and provide you with plenty of cuddles.

When your baby boy arrived in June, neither of you were surprised. Your entire family had predicted a boy because Harry had an older sister and you had a younger brother. So, when George Styles arrived, you’d been overjoyed to finally meet him and to have the rough pregnancy over.

Bringing him home, where Vera finally met him, almost solidified the reality that you and Harry had had a second baby. Vera became very obsessed with him very quickly. She would get up early just to come and watch him sleeping soundly. She’d sit and admire as you and Harry took turns in putting him to bed. She hated it when he cried and she hated it when you or Harry got frustrated with him for not stopping. Vera was naturally curious.

At first, it seemed easier than you’d remembered it to be with Vera. However, it quickly became just as stressful. There was nothing as bad as putting in hours upon hours of effort to seemingly get nothing out of it. The constant headaches and heavy eyes were beginning to feel worse than the pregnancy.

You’d always been aware of how tough pregnancy could be. Watching your aunt go through it when you were younger and hearing Anne talk about it when you first revealed you were pregnant with Vera had taught you that much. But you’d never expected it to be this hard.

As of present, you were balancing George on your hip. He was almost nine months old now. He’d found such joy in tugging on your hair and your ears. You tried your very hardest to ignore his actions as you prepared dinner. With only one free hand, it made it incredibly difficult to cook. But it was your only choice. Whenever you put George down, he began crying. And the last thing you needed to hear was more of his crying.

Vera sat at Harry’s piano, pressing her fingers down on random keys, giggling loudly as she went. The tune emitted was far from pleasant. And with the combination of George’s physical torment and Vera’s masterpiece of music, you were nearing your limit.

You’d dealt with them all day. And it was definitely one of those days. To make matters even worse, Vera was going through her daddy’s girl phase. She needed to know where Harry was and when he would be back and she’d only ever do anything if Harry asked her to. As far as she was concerned, you had no authority in her life whatsoever.

Harry had been at the studio all day with Mitch, writing and toying around with the instruments there. There was only so much he could do at home without being interrupted by a clingy Vera Styles. And, as much as you knew how much his music meant to him and his fans, you just wished he’d take a day to look after Vera and George. You were constantly tired, constantly aggravated and constantly stressed. All you wanted was a break.

You heard the front door close. Harry had always slammed the door, it had just been a habit of his. That was until you first had Vera and he learnt that she became easily frightened by the loud bang and it often woke her up. And when she was awake and on edge, she wasn’t going back to sleep. Which, in turn, meant you and Harry didn’t get any sleep either.

You listened silently as Harry hung up his coat and kicked off his shoes. He wandered into the living room. You heard him gasp, “That’s beautiful! You’re so talented!”

It was swiftly followed by Vera’s giggles. She said something to him, something you didn’t quite pick up. You heard his footsteps as he arrived at the threshold of the kitchen. He grinned, “There’s my baby boy!”

You let out a sigh of relief as Harry lifted George from your arms. You smiled to yourself as Harry peppered George’s face in light kisses. He turned to you, “And my gorgeous Y/N.”

He pressed his lips to your forehead, squeezing your hand with his free one. You smiled, “How was Mitch?”

Harry sat himself down at the kitchen table, tickling George as he did so. He shrugged slightly, “He was good. We wrote a great song today, Y/N. Oh, God, you’d have loved it.”

You nodded, “I’m glad you had a great day.”

Perhaps there was an air of bitterness to your tone. But you couldn’t help it anymore. You were just so tired. Besides, Harry didn’t pick up on any traces of sourness, but a part of you almost wanted him to. Maybe then he’d bring you up on it and you could tell him about all your problems.

You felt almost guilty being the person to bring it up; you didn’t want to burden Harry with what you were dealing with. Communication between you and Harry seemed scarce these days. Sure, you’d have a brief catch up in bed, but half the time, you were asleep so quickly the conversation didn’t last all too long. And then the hours between Harry’s arrival home and when you fell asleep was only filled with Vera and George. You knew that’s what parenthood was about, but you just craved some alone time. Harry nodded, “I did. The band is gonna come down tomorrow and we’re gonna play around. You know, see if we can put some music to my lyrics.”

Slowly, you said, “So, you’re going to the studio tomorrow?”

“Yeah. I just have a really great feeling about this song, Y/N. I mean, you really would have loved it.”

“I’m sure I would,” you said, suddenly filled with the urge to cry. “Can you take over for a second?”

You gestured down to the pan you were preparing dinner in. He quickly shot up, much to the glee of little George. You wiped your hands on your trousers and left the kitchen with your head down. Rushing into the bathroom, you let it all out quietly.

You splashed your face with a bit of water in an attempt to wake yourself up a bit. It was only two minutes later that Harry wandered in, ruining your only time alone all day. Upon realising you were upset, he rushed to kneel in front of you, taking your face in his large hands. “Baby, what’s wrong?” he asked, his eyes large and inflated with sympathy.

“Nothing, I’m fine,” you smiled forcefully, kicking yourself internally for that being your default reply whenever you were asked how you were feeling.

“No, please don’t lie.”

“I’m just… just so tired,” you said, feeling lighter already for finally confessing. “I just can’t physically do it on my own. I’m so lonely all day. And I know I’m just being selfish, but I feel like I’m raising them without you. It feels like I never see you anymore.”

“You’re not being selfish, my love. Please, don’t think you’re being selfish for feeling alone. I love you. I love you so much. Okay? I’ll make the effort now, okay? I will. I promise. Please, darling, don’t keep stuff like this to yourself anymore. I need to know. I’ll tell you what, I’ll tell the band to have the day off tomorrow and I’ll stay and look after George and Vera. You can do whatever you want all day, whether that be sleep or go see your parents.”

He never failed to make you smile, with slightly flushed cheeks.

“Are you sure?”

“We shouldn’t even be a big thing. I’m their father, I should just automatically put in as much effort as you,” he said.

You sighed, “Well, yeah, but you are a lot busier than me.”

“I’m never too busy for my three angels. Alright? I love you,” he said softly, kissing you.

It felt as if something within you had reigniting. It felt as if this kind of intimacy had been lost on you and Harry since having kids. And, for a split second, you felt seventeen again. “Thank you,” you whispered, laying your forehead against his.

“Stop thanking me for doing the bare minimum. You know I hate it,” he sighed, leaning into your touch. “Now, come on, before we end up with spaghetti all over the kitchen walls.”

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icyhawt · 4 years ago

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streets

pairing: hajime iwaizumi x reader

genre: smut

warnings: 18+ nsfw, mentions of alcohol consumption, oral (male receiving), choking, dirty talk, daddy kink, slight size kink, slight praise kink

summary: you give your boyfriend top at the red light

you sigh as you climb into the passenger seat of the car, your body feeling heavy because of how tired you were. as you settle into the seat you hear the door of the driver’s side opening. your head lolling to the side, you see your boyfriend. you catch iwaizumi’s eyes and with a small smile he leans forward pecking your lips.

after pulling back, he begins to put his seat belt on and breaks the comfortable silence, “i hope tonight wasn’t too much. i know you don’t really like parties.”

oikawa had thrown a little new year’s kickback as a celebration of not only the new year but him finally being back in japan. he had invited a majority of the seijoh boys and of course iwaizumi. being oikawa’s closest friend, iwaizumi knew he had to show up or else oikawa would whine about it for the months to come. truth be told, hajime was looking forward to spending his new year with you cuddled on the couch while some random countdown special played in the background. clearly that wasn’t the case. the both of you had went and hajime had made it known that he didn’t feel like drinking tonight but he had no issue if you wanted to. you had decided not to drink too much because you didn’t want your boyfriend to ring in the new year by holding your hair up while you threw your guts up in the toilet. although, you knew that if that were to happen he would have no problem with it. a couple beers and a shot or two later, you and hajime decided to take your leave early in hopes that you two could make it home before the clock hit 12:00.

leaning your head back against the headrest you close your eyes and smile, “no, it’s okay. i had a lot of fun. nothing beats seeing makki and mattsun doing drunk karaoke.”

hajime begins to reverse the car, placing his hand on the back of your headrest as he looks back. he shakes his head, “yeah but hearing that shit is awful, i almost went deaf.”

he looks at you briefly before directing his attention to the road in front of him, “are you okay though? you need me to pick up anything?”

you were always able to handle your liquor fairly well so you don’t feel anything more than a slight buzz. you open your eyes to look at your boyfriend, slight smile still on your face, “i’m okay, just wanna be home.”

you turn your attention to the radio in front of you and turn it on. pulling out your phone, you connect it and scroll through your playlists until you find the one titled ‘late night drives.’ as the first song flows out of the speakers, you settle back into your seat. you’re about to close your eyes again when you feel hajime’s hand make its way into your thigh. the short length of your dress making it easy for him to grip the flesh there. his hand doesn’t trail up any further, opting to stay put with his thumb rubbing against your skin up and down.

the touch does nothing except heat your body up with desire. you glance down at the large hand resting on your thigh and bring your eyes to look up at hajime. you give him a once over, eyes settling on his face. maybe it was the alcohol but god did he look so fucking good. the cut of his jaw, the curve of his nose, everything. trailing your eyes lower, you look over his neck and then you find yourself staring at his arm. it was no secret that iwaizumi took care of himself, especially physically. countless hours of being at the gym paying off in the form of his defined torso, thick thighs and bulging biceps. you find your mind floating off into thought of him at the gym, out of breath, skin glistening with sweat. you shift in your seat, catching the attention of your boyfriend.

hajime softly squeezes the inside of your thigh, “you good baby?”

you catch his gaze for a brief second before he turns to pay attention to the road again. you reach down with your left hand and take his hand off of your thigh. you interlace your fingers with his and lean over the middle console to give his cheek a kiss. what was supposed to be one single kiss turned into multiple and hajime soon finds your lips by his ear.

“mhm, i’m very good,” you breathe.

he huffs out a small laugh, “easy, we’re almost home.”

resting your head on his shoulder, you sigh, “don’t know if i can wait that long.” he can hear the light pout in your voice.

your free hand begins to travel up his arm, slowly but surely creeping to caress his strong chest. your actions make hajime grip the steering wheel a bit tighter. an action that does not go unnoticed by you. you know exactly what you’re doing, which is why you don’t bother to stop your wandering hand from going lower and lower. you don’t stop until your fingers are playing with the bottom of his shirt.

hajime’s eyes flick down to you, his eyes narrowed into slits, “quit it.”

suppressing a smile, you reply, “quit what?”

“you know exactly what, brat. you drank tonight, you’re probably drunk,” his voice firm.

truthfully, the buzz you felt earlier had died down and you’re fully aware of everything you’re doing. you roll your eyes before leaning up and giving his jaw a peck, “c’mon haji, i didn’t drink that much. i feel fine, i promise.”

the car slows to a stop, a red light. perfect.

for the nth time that night, you catch his gaze. the red glow of the stop light illuminating his face perfectly. you don’t know if he knows how good he looks. leaning down, he presses his lips to yours. your lips continue to glide over one another’s and before it could get even heavier, hajime pulls away first. he would be a liar if he said that he didn’t want to take you in the backseat right here, right now. with the way you looked tonight and how handsy you were being? it’s like you were begging for him to fill you up the way you deserved. from the moment you stepped out of the bathroom, body clad in that little black dress, he’s had to hold himself back. and right now his restraint is wearing incredibly thin, all because of you and your lingering kisses and wandering hands.

hajime was so lost in thought, he didn’t even notice that you’ve not only taken off your seatbelt and let go of his hand but that your whole upper body is leaning over the console that divides you both. you bring one hand up to cup the side of his face while the other fists the shirt he has on. you pull him in for another kiss, this one being even hotter and heavier than the last. one of his hands wraps around your throat, giving a slight squeeze before loosening again. the other hand on one side of your face.

you whine into the kiss, pulling back just a bit, “daddy, please.”

and just like that, hajime’s restraint snaps. he can never say no to you, no matter how hard he tries. always willing to give you whatever you ask of him.

“what is it baby, hm?” he hums, his eyes finding yours.

“i want you, want you in my mouth.” you keen, so wide eyed and desperate to make him feel good. hajime can feel himself growing hard at the thought.

“yeah? you want me to stuff that pretty mouth full?”

you nod, “mhm.”

unsatisfied with your lack of response, his eyes narrow slightly, “you know better than that, use your words.”

“yes daddy, want you to stuff my mouth.”

pulling away from you completely, he leans back to relax in his seat. giving you access to take whatever you wanted. he sighs, “there we go. go ahead baby take it out.”

not wasting a moment, you hastily begin to fumble with the belt of his pants. upon seeing your impatience, hajime chuckles. “slow down, angel. i’m not goin’ anywhere.”

you feel your cheeks flush in embarrassment but that feeling fades quickly as soon as his cock is freed. hajime was always blessed in terms of his physique and that included his dick. he’s big and he knows it. the first time you had to take him, you cried from the stretch of it. after being together for so long, you grew to love it. whether it be in your pussy or your mouth, you craved to have him fill you.

his cock is hot and heavy in your hand. the precum beading at the tip. your hand looks so small wrapped around him and hajime groans at the sight. finally, you lean down to give the tip a small kitten lick. at the contact, he hisses, “don’t tease baby.”

as much as you wanted to tease him, your need to please him prompts you to wrap your lips around the tip. you feel hajime tangle his fingers in your hair, guiding you to move up and down his length. it doesn’t take long for him to start bucking his hips up into the warmth of your mouth. you can feel him at the back of your throat. the only noise in the car being the drone of the radio and the sound of hajime’s moans and groans, telling you that you’re his ‘good girl’ and that he’s gonna make sure to ‘fuck you so good that you cry’ when he gets you home. you can feel your panties stick to your pussy with your slick at the sound of his promises.

everything is so messy. hajime can feel the mix of his precum and your spit drip down his cock. he has half a mind to pull you off and spit in your mouth but the way your warm, wet mouth is wrapped around him is making him feel too good to stop you.

your jaw is aching and your makeup is probably smudged to hell but you don’t care. the only thing on your mind being that you want hajime’s cum down your throat.

with a tightening grip in your hair and a low groan from your boyfriend, you get exactly what you want. his cock pulses in your mouth as he cums, your mouth still suckling on the tip to milk him for everything he’s worth. it isn’t until he tugs your hair up with a little bit of force that you finally let up. hajime’s eyes follow you as you sit up and he reaches forward to grip your chin in his hand, “open.” and you comply, your tongue lolling out of your mouth. he smiles at the sight. you swallowed just like the good girl you are. he tugs your face closer to his so he can press his lip against your own in a chaste kiss.

he pulls back, gazing at your lips before bringing his eyes up to your own, “you’re always so good to me aren’t you?”

you smile, “always gonna be a good girl for you.” the corners of his lips quirk up at your reply.

he pulls away from you completely to tuck himself back inside his pants and get situated once again. you lean back into your seat and click your seatbelt into place. looking at the street in front of you, you let out a small giggle at the sight of the traffic light being green. the red and green light probably being flicked back and forth during the time you had your boyfriend’s cock in your mouth. the sound of your giggles makes hajime turn his head to look at you, “what’s so funny?”

you feel the car start to move once again. you shake your head, “nothing, just thank god we were the only ones at that intersection.”

you lean your head back to relax against the headrest and close your eyes. the music being the only thing that fills the silence before your hear your boyfriend’s voice again, “get your rest now ‘cause i’m fucking you when we get home, just like i said.”

a/n: HAPPY NEW YEARRR!! i was supposed to post this yesterday but here we are 🤡 also i was lowkey tipsy when i wrote this so i am SO sorry if there’s any errors. this was my first time writing smut so i apologize if it’s not great. i hope u all enjoy <33

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loki-hargreeves · 4 years ago

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Loki x Reader - Thanos controls You

Warnings: angst, mentions of torture, mind-control, fighting, choking, blood and gore, more angst (it's a lot ok)

Word Count: 5,8K

Summary: After failing to deliver the Tesseract, Loki has been living in fear that Thanos will one day find him again and seek revenge. You have been missing ever since Loki was imprisoned after what he did in New York. Little did Loki know that you were with Thanos all along. During the events of Infinity War, Thanos makes you battle Loki in order to obtain the Tesseract

Author’s Note: I know Thanos doesn’t have the mind stone at the beginning of Infinity War but it’s fiction and I’m gonna do what Marvel does best, ignore canon. Let’s blame the Other’s powers, okay? Please enjoy this angsty little thing! :)

YOUR POV

“There’s room for more!” Loki yelled over the cries of scared children and their crying families. There was no way he would send a half-empty escape pod on its way to Midgard. That’s when he saw a child all by herself a little further away. She was clinging onto the wall for dear life and the ship trembled due to the impact of getting shot at. Her parents were nowhere to be seen. Dead. Loki felt sick to his stomach when he knew they were most likely dead. Thanos’ children were slaying kids and their parents heartlessly and they had the audacity to say they were being rescued. That their deaths were part of something bigger than life itself.

They viewed Thanos as a god who was being merciful even when he ripped a beating heart out of someone's chest.

Loki’s heart clenched in his chest painfully. Before it would be too late, he made his way to the tiny child and picked her up carefully. She seemed to recognize the prince but she wasn’t afraid of him. Instead, she hugged Loki so she wouldn’t fall out of his grasp.

“Where’s mommy?” The girl sounded absolutely petrified.

Loki didn’t know what to say as he made his way to the pod. Once he reached it, he saw a woman by the entrance.

“You’ll be safe here,” Loki promised the child as he handed her over to the lady. That’s all he had time for as he returned to the corridor. A particularly loud blast made him stumble over his feet and he had to catch his balance by taking support from the metal wall. The lights flickered, which meant the electronics of the ship were injured. There was a strange smokey smell in the air, which lingered with the irony stench of blood.

Loki couldn’t believe this was happening. Had Thanos finally come for him? Or did Thanos somehow know of the tesseract? Either way, if Thanos succeeded, he would kill two birds with one stone. The thought of this being all his fault made Loki nauseous. Guilt was nibbling at his skin and he knew it would eat him alive in the end. He never wished for this to happen!

As he ran down the corridors frantically searching for Asgardians that needed help, he heard different kinds of cries. People were letting out guttural screams. Others were pleading for their lives. Listening to the massacre that was taking place was worse than any nightmare Loki ever recalled having. They were all drained after Ragnarok and now Thanos had found them. It was haunting how ruthless fate could be.

Footsteps began to approach Loki and they were awfully close. Too close for his liking. He was quick to grab his daggers and turn to face whoever dared try to sneak up on him. When he saw a familiar figure, he nearly dropped the blades from his hands. Seeing you there was like shock itself punched him in the face.

You were there, real and clear as day.

How long had it been since the last time he saw you?

Ever since Loki had found out about his true nature, his life had gone downhill. After he ended up with Thanos and went through pure hell with him, he had changed. During his time away from Asgard, he had only missed one person truly - you. You, who had been by his side through everything. You, who hadn’t loved him any less when you saw his deep blue skin and those crimson red eyes that in Loki’s mind resembled blood. You, who had seen him as the rightful king of Asgard when everyone else betrayed him. The light of his life, the angel that had cared for him even when he felt like a monster.

You, who hadn’t been on Asgard when Thor brought him back to face Odin in trial. Loki had spent a lot of time in his cell, alone. He waited for you to appear but you never did and no one ever told him why. They rather left him to drown in his own vicious thoughts. It wasn’t until Loki pretended to be Odin that he began to learn what had happened on Asgard during his exile.

The people at the palace loved to gossip. Some claimed you had stolen a ship and left Asgard behind for good, that living as Loki’s widow had been too hard for you. In Loki’s darkest hours, he wondered if you truly felt ashamed for being associated with him. So ashamed in fact, that you had left it all behind and started anew. Sometimes, he believed that, but it never stopped him from trying to find you. He had searched night and day but it seemed like you had vanished into thin air. It had killed him more every day living in the unknown. His only wish had been that you were okay.

Now there you were, looking like you had never left. In a moment of pure shock, Loki couldn’t even begin to comprehend how you appeared on the ship - seemingly out of nowhere. He was happy to see you, despite how appalling everything else was at that moment.

“Y/N,” Loki spoke your name softly and dared to blink. When you were still there as he opened his eyes, he felt goosebumps all over his skin.

You looked at him so innocently, but then he noticed that something was off. The look in your eyes was cold. You weren’t in your typical Asgardian gear. Instead, you were dressed in dark armour that Loki could’ve sworn he had seen before, but he didn’t know where. Nevertheless, it made him feel uneasy.

“It’s been a while, Loki,” You attempted a smile as you walked closer to him, your husband. It still counted since he had never truly died, right?

Loki didn’t stop you as you walked right up to him. His eyes never left yours. Part of him wanted to kiss you, to hold you and feel you were real, but the shrieks in the background reminded him of how dangerous everything was. The daggers disappeared from his hands and Loki held you by your shoulders. He needed to see that his hands wouldn't go right through you, that he hadn't lost it.

“You need to get off this ship, Y/N!” He told you seriously. There was profound fear in his voice.

Instead of being worried at all, you just smiled back at him.

That was so unlike you.

“Y/N, do you hear me?”

“Oh, I do,” You confirmed nonchalantly, “I’m not going anywhere. Not yet.”

A bloodcurdling cry startled Loki. They were coming closer and closer. The two of you wouldn’t be safe in that passageway for long. By now, his heart was racing with his thoughts. He felt panic settling into his bones.

Before Loki could say another word, you cupped his face rather gently. The fact that you didn’t seem disturbed by what was happening was eerie to Loki. He knew that you had a heart much bigger than anyone else he knew of. The version of you he remembered wouldn’t have been so calm. Something was terribly wrong.

“I need something,” You admitted and batted your eyelashes. Before, Loki would’ve found that quite adorable, but at that moment it was so wrong. He had been so ecstatic to see you and know you were alive, but now he almost wanted to run the other way.

“What?” Loki barely found his voice at that point. He felt sick and heartbroken. This had to be a nightmare, the worst kind.

“The Tesseract, Loki. I really need it,” You blurted it out.

Shivers ran down his spine. How did you know about it? Why did you even care? He was unsure if he could even trust you with the knowledge that he had it in his possession. Usually, he would’ve trusted you with his life without any hesitation, but you had been gone for years and returned like this, with bizarre motives.

You returned at the same time as Thanos and you were looking for the tesseract. Loki wasn’t a fool. He finally put two and two together and the realization was too arduous to believe. The idea of you and Thanos even meeting was something Loki could only see happening in his worst nightmares, but he was afraid it had already occurred. If so, he needed to hear it from you,

“Is Thanos making you do this?”

The tone of his voice seemed to offend you as you sent him a nasty glare. Your softness turned harsh and you pushed Loki against the metal wall with a loud thud. Before he could get out of the way, you grabbed your own dagger and pressed it against his neck so it was ever so slightly pressing against his exposed skin.

“He is not making me do anything. I am glad to serve the all-mighty Thanos. I won’t fail him, unlike you,” You snarled at Loki spitefully.

Never in a million years had Loki imagined this moment to happen. One where you would be fighting against each other. It was supposed to the two of you against the nine realms. Being held like that by the one person he loved more than anything was tearing his heart to shreds, but he tried not to show it.

Deep down, he knew it wasn’t truly you. He knew exactly what Thanos had done to you so you would act like this, and it only made it hurt so much more. It felt like someone was pouring salt into an open wound, and his entire body, heart and soul were wounded.

“Now give me the tesseract and we will be on our merry way,” You tried to obtain it again. This time you seemed more serious. Was it the tone of your voice or your weapon pressed against his pulse? Loki didn’t know.

“I don’t have it,” Loki lied as smoothly as he could because even thinking straight at that moment felt impossible. The world was caving in around him at supersonic speed.

You pressed the sharp edge of the blade closer to him, feeling how just a little bit more pressure would've broken his skin “You’re a great liar, my dear, but I know that’s not the truth.”

Loki didn’t want to fight you, but he didn’t see another way out. And it was good for him that you had learned most of the tricks from him. Your every move would be more easily predictable for Loki. He had to find a way to distract you.

“Why do you need it?” That was a foolish question. He knew damn well what Thanos would do if he got his dirty hands on the infinity stones.

“Why do you care?” You didn’t answer his silly question.

Suddenly, Loki grabbed your wrist tightly and yanked your arm to the side. He tried to be as gentle as he could, but Loki knew you wouldn’t go down without a fight.

At least your weapon fell out of your hand, but you knew how to defend yourself without it. So did Loki.

Loki tried to turn things around so he would have you pinned down against the wall, but you didn’t let him get that far. As he turned you around so your back was pressed firmly against his chest, you kicked your legs against the wall hard, pushing both of you back. Loki took the biggest impact as he fell on the floor, with you on top of him. Quickly, you rolled out of his grasp, turning around in one swift movement so that you were now sat on top of him, with your legs tightly against both his sides.

A powerful orb of magic grew above your fingertips and you brought it closer to Loki’s face - so close that he could feel the heat of your burning powers. The magic created an electric sensation on your skin. It felt like you pushed your fingers deep into warm sand. Toying with it was exhilarating, and seeing the astonished look on Loki’s face made it so much better. The green light of your powers cast light in his eyes, only deepening the look of disbelief that was painted all over him.

“It’s sweet that you’re trying not to hurt me,” You taunted him at that point, “but that doesn’t mean I won’t hurt you.”

“This isn’t you, Y/N,” Loki groaned. He was so sure of himself.

You tilted your head and smirked, looking at him like a cat would at a mouse. “I don’t know, Loki. It’s been a while,” You explained casually and leaned closer and closer to his face, stopping when your noses brushed against one another. By now, Loki was frozen on the spot. He was trying to come up with a plan and he felt hopeless.

“I’ve changed,” You whispered to him and felt tempted to kiss him, to taste him. Would you taste his fear? His heartbreak? You were sure it would taste sweet.

“The torture must’ve been painful,” Loki pushed his feelings aside. Yes, he felt like his heart had been ripped to shreds, but he had to do something. He had to surprise you, even if it would hurt. Words could hurt more than actions, and if Loki wanted to survive and to help you, he needed to reach the real you even if the only way to do so was cruel.

How did he know? You narrowed your eyes and surprisingly, found yourself waiting for him to continue.

"I was trained well."

"Trained?" Loki spat out harshly, "I know you're afraid. He has promised you something worse than the pain he has inflicted on you already. It won't happen. If you let Thanos continue his reign, he will not care about your loyalty!"

"Shut up!" That was too much for you. With tears brimming your eyes from anger, you put your hand over his mouth to silence him. He didn't budge and you didn't know why.

You pushed the memories aside. The painful memories of the time Thanos first found you. It was wrong to think of it as torture. No, he had shown you what you're truly capable of. It was training. Training to become a stronger person after the hell you endured on Asgard.

But now that you found yourself thinking about it, it seemed like the memories were all blurred as if you were looking into the past through a broken lens. Someone had spilt oil all over it and the pictures were warped.

"I know you have it," You needed the tesseract. "Give it to me and then this will all be over," you removed your hand from his mouth because it looked like he wanted to speak.

Loki knew that if he’d push you, your magic could burn him, but at the moment he couldn’t come up with another plan. He couldn’t just stay on the ground as people were being killed on the other side of the wall!

"Okay," Loki blurted out. Okay?

For a moment, he had you surprised which was the perfect distraction.

Loki grabbed your wrists tightly and pushed you to the side, but not quickly enough. You released your magic and it graced the side of his face, making him growl out either in pain or frustration - or both. The two of you rolled over and this time Loki was on top, holding your arms pinned above your head. You were trapped because of one mistake. You couldn't believe Loki had used the element of surprise to turn the situation upside down.

Furiously, you tried to kick your legs free, but he had you pinned down beneath him and Loki was strong. There was no point in squirming, you had to come up with another idea.

The two of you faced each other and Loki revealed his face and the damage you had done. Your magic had burned his skin and left a bloody cut on his eyebrow. It had just barely missed his eye. If he lived, it would surely leave a scar.

You flinched when a drop of his blood hit your cheek and it rolled down the side of your face.

"What are you going to do, kill me?"

Loki could never bring himself to kill you. He wouldn't be able to live with himself with your blood on his hands. No. He had other ideas. Loki remembered what it was like to be under Thanos' control. He remembered how much it hurt to even think about the torture. He had to remind you, he had to make you see that this wasn't the real you.

"This version of you, or I certainly hope so," Loki replied mysteriously. Before you could ask him to elaborate, Loki released your wrist and slammed the palm of his hand against your forehead. In a split second, you were in a different place - in your head. You could've sworn you heard him mutter "I'm sorry," before everything turned black.

It was hot, burning hot. Metal chains were attached to you and they were glowing red. Torching. You could only scream in pain as the metal sunk into your skin, your bones, your nerves. It felt like he had chained your mind and with the tiniest movement of his finger, he could make you do his dirty work.

He, Thanos, was sitting on his throne. He was the puppet master and you the puppet. He didn't look at you fondly. No. He was smiling as he watched you cry your lungs out, letting out animalistic growls as the pain got worse. It was so overwhelming that every once in a while, you would scream until you passed out. But every time, one of his children would be there to wake you up.

It was time for another round. And another. And yet another. Would it ever end?

Each time you tried to resist the chains, the strings that were sewn onto you and connected to his fingertips, it hurt more. Eventually, you learned that allowing the strings to tighten around you made it hurt less. It almost felt good, like a long embrace after a long day.

"I don't want to hurt you, my child."

Lies. You knew that all he said were nasty lies, but sometimes it was easier to believe lies than the truth.

"Make it stop!" You would beg him. How long had you been there?

You could remember Thanos touching your face gently, which was so comforting after everything you had endured. At the same time, it made you sick. You couldn't believe that the one who had caused you distress could have such a gentle touch.

"You're ready," Thanos had realized. The Other had appeared right before you and his fingertips were pressed against one another, making him look like he was deep in thought. You had no idea what they were doing, but the next thing you knew was that you no longer felt pain.

The chains, the strings, they were all invisible. It looked like you were free, but the weight of the metal was still pressed against your skin. Had you imagined it?

No,

Deep down you knew that the strings were still attached to you, but they had only made it seem like you had a choice.

"Excellent," The Other's voice surprised you. You merely blinked and you had returned to the vessel. Loki was above you and the Other was standing right there, "You found him."

The Other used his powers to push Loki off you. Shock had made your entire body numb and you couldn't scramble up to your feet. It felt like your limbs had been turned to stone and you were anchored to the floor.

Loki got up slowly with his arms raised in surrender. He was well aware of the powers the Other had and Loki wasn't going to fight him now. If he followed you for long enough, then maybe just maybe he could come up with a plan. Loki looked at you as you finally got up. As you stood next to the Other, you couldn't believe your legs carried you. Something was so wrong. You felt sick and you couldn't shake it off. It felt like something had snapped within you, but you didn't know what.

"He is waiting for you," The Other explained as he turned to walk away, most likely to wherever Thanos was waiting.

Loki had no choice but to follow, and you walked behind, making sure he didn't try to escape.

Why did Loki make you remember that? What did he think he would obtain with making you relive something so awful? It hadn't worked, right?

There he was. Thanos was standing by a hole that had been ripped into the side of the ship. Magic was keeping it sealed so the vacuum of space wouldn't suck everyone into it. But still, the emptiness of space wasn't frightening at all compared to the titan who was standing right there.

Loki swallowed thickly as he saw him again. It had been years but he remembered everything like it had happened yesterday. Seeing Thanos standing in the middle of the piles of bodies, in the room that smelled like smoke and blood, was sickening. Thanos hadn't just killed a part of Loki. He had just slaughtered these innocent Asgardians with the help of his so-called children. He had taken you.

He will make you long for something as sweet as pain

Loki closed his eyes and took a deep, shaky breath. They had stayed true to their threats.

"I know what it’s like to lose," Thanos turned around now that he knew Loki was there. At long last. Thanos had not forgotten what Loki had failed to do, and Thanos was a man of his words.

"To feel so desperately that you’re right yet to fail, nonetheless," Thanos continued dramatically and slowly made his way closer to Loki. He saw Thor on the ground, bloodied and weak. The brother of Loki. As tempting as the idea was to torture Thor right in front of the god of mischief, Thanos had different plans. If there was only one way Loki would ever give him the tesseract, it was going to be in order to save you. You were Loki's true weakness.

"It’s frightening. Turns the legs to jelly. I ask you, to what end?" Thanos looked Loki right in the eye. He could see that Loki was afraid, yet Loki never looked away from him. He was either too proud or fearless. Thanos had liked that about Loki initially. But he had failed Thanos greatly. It had cost him infinity stones.

"Dread it. Run from it. Destiny arrives all the same. And now, it’s here. Or should I say I am," Thanos finished his dramatics because it was time for action, to turn the wheels and see the bigger picture. This was the end of an era and a new beginning for a different universe. In Thanos' mind, only he could bring balance and order. He gestured for you to walk up to his side.

Too afraid of the idea of what would happen if you disobeyed, you walked right up to Thanos, feeling like a fly that was willingly flying into cobwebs. When you were close enough, you kneeled and dipped your head so he wouldn't see the worry in your eyes. It wasn't there before.

"I didn't obtain the tesseract from him, but I am sure that he has it, father," You muttered quietly. Why did you say that? There was a pounding headache growing within your skull. You didn't know what was right or wrong anymore and you couldn't fight it either.

Father

Loki clenched his jaw as he followed the situation closely. Hearing that made his blood boil. He wanted to rip Thanos apart after this. Never in a million years had he imagined this, to see you pledge your alliance to Thanos, kneeling before him and respecting him. Thanos didn't deserve that. Hell, Thanos didn't even deserve to look at you. It was wrong.

At that moment, Loki worried that his trick hadn't worked. That the memories hadn't awakened anything within you. That it was all too late now. This was the end, the one thing in life that was inevitable.

"I know, my child," Thanos let out a sigh. Then he grabbed you by your jaw like he had done before, forcing you to face him. "I know he has it," He repeated and suddenly his touch turned violent. He closed his hand around your neck tightly and you gasped for air helplessly. Your hands - tiny compared to his - grabbed his fingers and you tried to pry them apart, but he was tougher than you. Panic shot through your entire body when you realized you couldn't breathe. It turned your blood to ice and your poor heart was beating so hard you were afraid it would explode.

What was he doing?

The moment he pulled you to your feet, so high that you had to stand on the tips of your toes, he spoke, "The tesseract or her life," Thanos smiled devilishly, showing no remorse. He didn't care about you. You were a pawn in his game and if you would die at his feet, he would just walk over you and carry on.

"You choose," Thanos put the weight of the world on Loki's shoulders.

Loki wanted to rescue you from that monster, but he wasn't stupid. With all of Thanos' children surrounding him, he knew that he would be dead before he could reach you. Nonetheless, it didn't mean he wouldn't try. Seeing you clawing at Thanos' hand, fighting for something as simple as air and not getting it was heartbreaking. Loki's body was trembling with hatred and hurt. Tears blurred his vision and he struggled to keep his composure.

How had it all come to this?

The thought of Thanos with the tesseract was haunting. Soon he would have all the stones and he would destroy reality as they knew it. But Loki could live with that. He couldn't live knowing you had died when he had a chance to save you. Perhaps he was selfish for choosing you over the entire galaxy, but Loki didn't care. Nothing mattered if he would lose you again.

"Alright, stop!" Loki made up his mind. "I choose her," Finally, Thanos released his grip on you and let you fall on the cold ground. Your hands wrapped around your throat gently and you coughed painfully. It took you a while to finally breathe again, which was a huge relief for both Loki and you.

And now Loki was holding the tesseract. It was so bright that it painted the space blue. It was almost too bright to look at. The power within the stone was so strong, you could sense it like heat from the sun in spring after a long and cold winter. Loki was tempted to use the tesseract to grab you and escape, but he quickly shut those thoughts away. Thanos would follow him for the end of all days.

"You...you really are the worst, brother," Thor was following the situation to the best of his abilities. He spat out blood as he watched Loki holding the cube. It made him sad. Everything they ever knew was destroyed in the name of power, pure and raw power that the tesseract could offer. Was it worth it?

Loki glanced at Thor who was too weak to even get up. He didn't care too much about what he had to say. Then he looked at you. There you were, on the ground struggling to breathe after Thanos had crushed your windpipe. There was bruising on your skin that would only deepen with time. Time that you possibly wouldn't have after this.

He saw the tears running down your face, but you didn't sob and whimper. It seemed like you were as still as stone. You couldn't bring yourself to face Loki.

"I assure you," Loki found his voice and he addressed both you and Thor with his words, "the sun will shine on us again."

What did he mean by that?

You were ashamed to tilt your gaze to see him, to see the tesseract. The damn infinity stone had ruined it all! It was why Thanos had wrecked Loki, why he had destroyed you too. Why so many people were now dead. If you had one wish that could come true, you would wish for the tesseract to be destroyed forever.

Thanos had his back turned to you. Loki was slowly but surely making his way closer to the titan, almost like he was afraid to move but he forced his body to comply. Why? Why would he trade the tesseract for your life? It seemed like whatever spell you had been under had worn off. You were free, but it was more terrifying than being under Thanos' control under these circumstances. He didn't need you, and soon enough the vessel would be blown to bits. All of you, even Loki.

Would you be able to tell him how sorry you were?

"Your optimism is misplaced, Asgardian," Thanos wasn't fond of Loki's strange choice of words.

"Well for one thing I'm not Asgardian," Loki replied quickly. It sounded a little bit witty, which was confusing. Where did the boost of confidence come from? Was he up to something?

"And for another," He continued dramatically. This time it was Thanos' turn to be confused.

"We have a Hulk."

Everything that happened after that happened so fast that you could hardly keep up with it. Loki dropped the tesseract and he leapt toward you. Thanos barely had time to turn around when a huge, green beast appeared out of nowhere and it seemed angry. It was eager to fight the titan.

Loki had you up on your feet in no time and the two of you ran away from the immediate danger. He led you to one of the many corridors on the vessel until no one could possibly see you. They were too distracted by the Hulk to even think about Loki and you. It wasn't until he was right in front of you that you could comprehend what was going on. He was kneeling on the floor and you were sat against the wall for support. Your hands were trembling so hard, it seemed like you were freezing up and you couldn't make it stop.

Loki had tricked Thanos.

He was relieved when you didn't fight him, yet he was unsure if it meant you were no longer under Thanos' control, or if you were simply too tired to fight.

He cupped your face gently and searched for answers in your expression. Back in the day, he had been able to read you like an open book.

You put your hands around his wrists and pulled him closer. You were desperate for the comfort he could bring in the midst of the living hell you were stuck in. How did he not hate you?

"I'm s- I'm sorry," You whimpered, finally cracking like a plate that had fallen on the floor. "I'm sorry."

"Shh, it's okay," Loki couldn't possibly let you apologize for what had happened. He was possibly the one person who understood exactly what you had gone through and what it was like to follow orders from that monster. There was not an ounce of judgement to be found in his heart.

What mattered now was that you were together again. You could come up with a plan, but you had to work fast. As much as Loki wanted to hold you and comfort you, to feel that you were real, he knew there wasn't enough time for that.

"We need to get off this thing," Loki's mind was running a marathon as he tried to come up with an escape plan.

"They're gonna blow it up," You explained, feeling how bad your lips were quivering as you spoke. The moment Thanos had what he came for, they would leave and destroy everything they'd leave behind.

Shivers ran down Loki's spine as he heard that. It only confirmed that you had to act quickly. Loki wasn't sure how long the Hulk could fight Thanos. Would they be able to rescue Thor? How much time did they have?

The blood in the wound you had caused on his face was beginning to dry. It looked gnarly and all you wanted was to make it all better. Knowing that you had hurt him made you sick with guilt.

"I'm sorry, Loki. I didn't w-want to fight you," You sniffled, breaking Loki's train of thought. For the first time, he felt lost. He didn't really know what to do. Were there any escape pods left?

"I know," Loki assured you. "I know that. I was in your shoes when I was on Midgard," He explained briefly, unaware whether or not you knew of it. Had Thanos talked about him to you?

A sense of impending doom weighed you two down. If this was the end, then at least you were together, right? You and Loki against the nine realms, you would face the end together if there wasn't another way out. Whenever you had pictured your final day, you had imagined something entirely different than this. You would be old together, with hundreds of stories of your shared life. You would be surrounded by people you cared about. It would be calm, the exact opposite of this.

"I love you," You needed to tell him that. Any moment could be your last. The world would cave in and you would be gone forever.

Loki hated how much that sounded like a farewell, but at the same time, it had been so long since he had last heard those three words, let alone from you. Perhaps it was sick and twisted, but it made him smile.

"I love you too," Loki was sure of it. He had never stopped loving you and he didn't think he was even capable of that.

It seemed like you acted on instinct. You found enough strength to push yourself right against Loki. There was no hesitation in your actions as you kissed him. Loki closed his eyes when he felt your trembling lips pressed against his. Your scent, still sweet and familiar despite it all, punched its way into his lungs. He held your face gently but the kiss was passionate, almost despairing.

You wanted to scream out in agony because at last, you were reunited with Loki but not in the way you imagined. You felt like the shell of the person you were before, and now you knew for a fact that Thanos had done the exact same things to Loki. That titan had killed your souls beyond repair. But all you could do was kiss Loki and hold him and hope that he could feel how sorry you were. You didn't want to let go, afraid that if you did, it would all end. Just like that.

Loki broke the kiss, and for a moment you rested your foreheads against one another like you had done so many times before. It was comforting. You both wanted to stay close like that, but you recognised that you couldn't. Letting go of each other and getting up on your weary feet was so incredibly difficult, but it had to be done.

The world around you began to glow brighter. You quickly held onto Loki, startled as the mysterious light surrounded the two of you.

Loki held his breath as he studied the warm glimmering magic that had swallowed you. In between the bright rays of light, he saw all the colours of the rainbow. Shimmering. He saw reds and blues, yellows and greens, shining brighter than the other and it changed smoothly.

The Bifrost

He didn't know how or why, but he knew for a fact that you were in the magical portal. He couldn't see beyond it anymore. He couldn't feel the floor beneath his feet. It was like he was levitating mid-air, with you tightly in his arms.

Heimdall must've conjured the forefathers, letting their powers flow through him one last time. Where to? Loki assumed that anywhere would be better than where they had been mere seconds ago.

And it was a miracle.

A/N: I think it would've made more sense for Heimdall to send Thor or Loki to earth rather than the Hulk. So that's why I ended it like that

I'd absolutely love to hear your feedback! <3

TAGS:

Loki: @yuna-belikova @ornella0910 @castiels-majestic-wings @lucywrites02 @myraiswack @prettysbliss @weirdfangirl2416

Forever Taglist: @iraniq @embrycallsgirl @blackroseyaz @badass-psycho @r-alexandra01 @p3aches13 @your-pixels-are-showing @disasterren @iamsuperjenna @yuna-belikova @ornella0910 @optimisticpeacecollector5 @thehumanistsdiary @your-pixels-are-showing @klanceiscannon14 @i-have-arrived-bitch

#Loki #Loki fic #Loki fanfiction #Loki oneshot #Loki x You #Loki x Reader #Loki x Y/N #Loki Odinson #Loki Laufeyson #tw angst #Loki angst #Loki/You

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whump-a-la-mode · 3 years ago

Text

Escape: Part 2

This is a bit different from what I usually do. @equestrianwritingsstuff recently posted a one-off piece, and I got a little bit obsessed with it. So, with her permission, this is a continuation! The original post can be found here.

Summary: After being captured and forced into a torturous reform program, Villain attempts escape-- but throws it all away to save the life of his foe.

CW//Attempted conditioning, denial of food, denial of water, intentional self injury, broken glass, blood, mentions of car crashes, collars, chains, firearms, attempted murder

“Okay.” The sigh was sharp, enough so to make Villain bite their own tongue in apprehension. “Let’s try another one.”

Nosey shuffled through the stack of papers piled before them on the desk. Villain glanced down at the pile-- noting its sheer height. He wasn’t expected to go through all those, right? No, that would certainly take all night.

“Here.” The hero before him settled on one of the pages, picking it up. “This one should be easy.”

Villain muttered something under his breath, laden with swears and insults.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

“Mhm.” A haughty exhale. “Here. If you get this one on the first try, you can go back to your cell and... I don’t know, do whatever it is you do. I’m tired of looking at your face.”

Back to his cell. That made Villain perk up, nearly straining against the cuffs holding him firmly to the table.

“Okay, let’s just get this over with. Here’s the scenario. You’re walking along the street, and you see someone hit by a car. The car does not stop, and the victim is thrown onto the sidewalk in front of you. They are clearly alive, but severely injured. Do you:

A: Use your healing powers to treat their injuries.

B: Search the surrounding area for a civilian with medical training

C: Contact the Heroic Civilian Treatment Team to take the victim to hospital.”

“Um...”

Villain felt the hairs on the back of his neck stick up, despite being half wetted down with sweat.

If someone had been struck by a vehicle, the obvious answer would be to help them as quickly as possible. As soon as injuries like that were inflicted, the clock was already ticking.

The heroes were terribly resistant to him using his powers in any situation-- that was somewhat the whole point of the Villain Containment Practices. But in this case, it would certainly be an exception, right? Their whole job was supposed to be protecting life.

“Uh- I- I think A.” He at last croaked out. “Use my healing powers to stabilize them, then find a civilian doctor to get them to the hospital.”

Nosey sighed.

“A situation like this should always be deferred to us. Using your powers is never the answer.”

They placed down the paper, hastily rearranging the messy stack of them.

“Let’s go back to the gym. I’ll let you off with ten laps, this time.”

Villain gulped, phlegm sliding down a dry throat, as a pair of guards advanced to untie him from the table.

“C- Can I have some water? Please?”

“You’ve already lost your food privileges for the day. Do you really want to lose your water, too? You get water once you’ve earned it. For now, we’re going to the gym.

At this rate, maybe you should just become a permanent resident in our program.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The glass was mocking them.

Villain was certain of that, even as he kneeled on his cot of a bed, half delirious, half exhausted.

The glass of water sat on a small table at the bed’s end. Just a glass, hardly even filled halfway. Haphazardly placed under a faucet for a few moments without thought.

He knew he had to drink it. He didn’t have much of a choice. Tomorrow would only bring more questions, more laps, more push-ups, more lectures. It would be terrible, certainly, but the small amount of liquid would make it at least the tiniest bit more bearable. Give him the tiniest bit more strength.

It was all he had. He’d spent the day watching his classmates-- that’s what the heroes called them, they were fellow prisoners, at best-- eating their meals, while he sat at an empty table.

Just because he had started a fight didn’t mean he should have to starve. Besides, they had it coming. Stuck up ass.

Villain frowned, cracked and dry lips sticking together, and reached forth to pick up the glass.

He needed to drink it, but as soon as he did, it would be gone. He would have to earn the next few drops through countless tears and buckets of sweat. At the very least, right now, he had control. He had a choice.

Not a very good one, but...

When had he gotten to this point? Having a crisis in a barren room over a half-glass of water? He was supposed to be a villain. Others were supposed to fear him.

Besides...

Villain’s hand shook, water sloshing, even as he was careful not to lose a single, precious drop.

He didn’t know how much longer he could survive like this. Endless exercise, endless questions. Maybe they would never let him out. Maybe they wanted him to die here. Hell, they probably wanted him to die here. One less problem, drained of strength until they no longer had enough to breathe.

This was one long, drawn out execution. Even if it wasn’t, he could hardly imagine a situation in which they allowed his parting. In which they considered him at long last “reformed.”

Villain had to leave. He had to. He was leaving here either in a glorious escape, or in a body bag. Or, worse: In a hero’s uniform.

He downed the water, feeling the heavenly moisture fill his throat. It was the best thing he had ever tasted, despite the fact that water had no taste to it.

It was far less pleasant than what would come next. He knew from unfortunate experience that there were only two things that could get him out of this cell: Going to ‘class,’ or having an emergency.

The first wouldn’t work.

There was no camera in the room, he had searched long and hard to confirm that fact. At the very least, he didn’t have to do much in the way of acting. Not yet.

He swung his unsteady legs over the edge of the bed, standing, stumbling halfway to the end table.

Before throwing the glass to the floor.

It was a miracle, that the heroes allowed him glass dishware. The cup exploded, a thousand shining pieces scattering about the floor.

Now, for the unpleasant part.

Villain gritted his teeth, throwing himself onto the broken glass, ensuring that it dug into his flesh, his legs and his palms. At the very least, his screams were genuine.

“Help! Help!” He wailed. “I’m hurt! Help, please help! Oh god, that’s my blood, oh god oh god...”

There was no camera in the room, but the door was plenty thin, and in this facility, screams carried far. To ensure this, he let out a few more cries, carrying them on until the door lock was frantically turned, the door thrown open on its hinges.

Hero’s inhale was quick enough that she nearly started choking on her own breath.

“V-Villain, oh god, that’s- That’s your blood?”

Of course it was, dimwit. It was flooding from his skin, wasn’t it?

“Y- Yes. I tripped, um, oh god, oh...”

The swaying and slurring of his words were not pretend, either. Dehydration and hunger made sure of that.

“Can you walk?” How was there so much concern in her tone?

“Don’t know.”

“We need to try. I can carry you, but- We need to get to the infirmary.”

The hero hurried to their foe’s side, arms under his shoulders helping him to his feet. He could walk on his own, not well, but he could-- though Hero had no need to know that.

“Okay.”

“It’s a pretty long walk. We can take it slow, okay?”

“Yeah.”

That was exactly what they did. Their movements were so painfully slow that at times Villain wondered whether or not they were moving at all, but, after some time, they did cover some distance. The few people awake at such an hour steered clear, seeing a villain covered in blood and wanting nothing to do with it in the slightest.

The infirmary was on the bottom floor, Villain had seen it on his way in, making note of its placement. Of course, Hero wasn’t about to make him struggle down all those stairs. No. She went straight for the elevator, stepping into the isolated box with her foe and letting the doors closed.

This was it. The elevator ride would only last a few moments-- it was now or never.

As subtly as he possibly could, Villain placed his hand upon his injured leg, the minty thrum of healing powers knitting together the slices. Though, it did nothing to dry the blood that had already seeped out.

He was healed, and Hero was alone. Trapped.

By all accounts, it was a fight that Villain should have lost. He was exhausted, stomach left empty for far too long, and veins severely lacking in blood. Hero had the benefit of being well-fed, well-rested, all of it.

But that explanation left out one thing.

Villain was desperate.

He watched the small, digital screen count down the floors.

4...

3...

2...

Now!

The strike may not have been powerful, but it was aided by the sheer speed at what it was launched. Villain’s fist collided with Hero’s temple, knocking her sideways, stumbling. He wasted not a millisecond in preparing his next strike, hearing the crack of a cheekbone beneath his knuckles.

Hero let out a cry, holding her face where a bruise would certainly bloom in the hour. Limbs still soaked in scarlet, Villain swung out with his leg, catching Hero in the knee, sending her to the elevator floor with a hollow crash.

The elevator doors opened.

It was the fastest Villain had ever run in his life, he was certain of that. His legs were little more than blurs of red as he sprinted forth, tearing through a lobby that was nearly barren. An infinitesimal distance between him and freedom.

“Oh no you don’t!”

His legs came out from under him, his face striking the tile floor, almost certainly giving him an identical blessure to Hero.

The voice-- it was Nosey’s stupid, avian squawk. And, too, their polished boot struck Villain’s back.

“You really thought it’d be that easy?”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The metal chafed horribly against Villain’s neck, somehow making his throat’s desiccation more acute. He laid his head against the thin carpet, spine aching terribly. The movement shifted the chain latched onto his collar, the slight clinking noise making his heartbeat stutter.

Tied up like a dog.

“Is this really necessary?” He grumbled, shifting himself to a sitting position, gazing upwards.

To Hero’s bed. Her legs dangled off the side of the mattress, hands gripped into fists around gathered bedsheets.

“We’ve been over this. That cell was a privilege, and you’ve lost it.”

“And so you chain me to the wall like a dog.”

“Exactly. You need to be under my direct supervision.”

“Yeah, whatever. Did you really have to stick this stupid collar on me?”

“I’m no happier about this than you are. But I’m not giving you free reign of my bedroom. You already tried to kill me once tonight.”

“I wasn’t trying to kill you.”

“Whatever. Unlike you, I actually have things to do in the morning. So, if you would please let me sleep?”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“If you do something for me first.”

“You are in the worst possible position to make demands, right now.”

Villain’s sigh tore at his throat.

“I just want some water.”

“Just that? Wait. You’re not going to smash the glass again, are you? I’m way too tired for that nonsense a second time tonight.”

“Just don’t put the water in a glass, then.”

“You actually just want water?”

“Yes.” He added rather pathetically. “Please?”

“I... Fine. Then you’ll let me sleep?”

“Mhm.”

“Fine.”

Hero stood, glancing suspiciously at her captive as she made her way across the room. As if he could do anything-- the chain was maybe three feet in length. He could barely lay his head down.

She maneuvered to her kitchenette, returning with a plastic cup-- filled to the brim with that precious liquid. She placed it before him. He was already drooling.

“That’s it?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Goodnight, Villain.”

“Goodnight.”

Was that really all it took to domesticate him? A glass of water? It hardly mattered. As soon as Hero turned off the light, bathing the room in shadow, Villain downed the liquid as though his life depended on it.

Perhaps, it did.

It wasn’t long before Hero’s steady breathing had turned to soft snoring. Villain shifted himself into the most comfortable position he could manage. Even that, however, was far from being pleasant, with the chain threatening to strangle him at any moment.

That wasn’t what kept him from sleeping, however. He needed to sleep. He knew that, he wasn’t stupid. He would need his energy for the next day of lessons, of shouted orders and lectures.

That was all his life would be from now on, wouldn’t it? Orders and exhaustion and being forced to earn the most basic of needs by answering moral quandaries incorrectly.

Villain wanted, longed, to cry. To let out all the horrible emotions that had stuck in his chest cavity, threatening to drown his lungs in sorrow. But that would break the conditions of the deal.

He had to be quiet, or else he might never again be allowed water.

It was that dread in his chest, that hopelessness, that forced him awake.

So, he laid, still, listening to Hero’s snores as his own body refused to allow him unconsciousness.

Snores, and...

Footsteps.

Footsteps? Villain tensed, holding stock still, pricking his ears for the noise. They drew louder, louder, before stopping. Stopping outside the dorm room door.

He held his breath.

The door opened gently enough that the hinges made only the slightest noise. Then, the footsteps were inside.

Villain shrunk down in the corner, making himself far smaller and quieter than anyone of his status should ever have had to be.

Two sets of footsteps. Growing louder, coming towards the bedroom. The bed.

Hero.

“Are you sure we need to do this?” An unknown voice, whispering.

“If you want this plan to work, we don’t have a choice.”

That voice, that voice was not unknown. It was loud, terribly high pitched, terribly-

Nosey.

“We really have to kill them?”

“We won’t get the chance if you keep talking. Just do it, don’t chicken out on me, now.”

“Okay, okay.”

Villain’s heartbeat shivered.

The cocking of a gun. That horrible sound, that precursor of bloodshed.

Then, the shot. Two pairs of footsteps, fleeing, slamming the door behind themselves.

Villain gulped.

It was no doubt what had happened-- if he had had any doubts, they were quickly drowned out as Hero’s breathing hitched, then quieted to an almost imperceptible level. Growing slower, weaker by the second.

They are clearly alive, but severely injured.

In the scenario, he had had three choices. But this wasn’t a training scenario.

Now, he only had two.

A: Praise his lucky stars and use the opportunity to escape. There was a fire escape, just outside the window. He would be gone into the night before anyone knew any different.

Or...

B: Do the right thing.

Villain threw himself against the chain about his neck, collar threatening to cut off his airways. He spun about, gripping the chain in clammy fingers, pulling and tugging and-

Her breathing was getting quieter, weaker.

He pulled harder, muscles straining with the effort. The chain was anchored to the wall with a spike, drilled in. There was no way he could break the chain, no way he could break the spike, but-

Villain’s heel slammed through the plaster and drywall, chain flying backwards at his face. He hardly made note of it. Spike and chain and all dragging behind him, he tore to Hero’s bedside.

It was almost fortunate, that the lights were off. He couldn’t see the extent of the wounds.

He placed his hands upon her head, that minty feeling rushing to his fingers, his palms, her skin.

Using your powers is never the answer.

No. No, that wasn’t true.

Rules didn’t matter. Training didn’t matter. All that mattered was doing the right thing.

#villain whumpee #hero villain whump #conditioned whumpee #whump community #whump

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blossom-hwa · 4 years ago

Text

Sunflowers |Summer| - JUYEON

Can’t believe it’s already Juyeon’s birthday!!! Hope deobiblr enjoys my contribution for the birthday of one of the best dancers in the kpop industry <3

I will be doing a taglist for Sunflowers, so if you’d like to be notified when the next part goes up, send me a dm or an ask! Post dates are also on my posting schedule :)

Pairing: Juyeon x gender neutral!reader

Genre: fluff, high school!au

Triggers: cursing

Word Count: 2.3k

Juyeon is just a sunflower, following the light of your smile.

Summer | Fall | Winter | Spring | Summer, Once More

TBZ Masterlist | Interwoven

~ in summer, a stranger comes home

. . . . .

It’s the middle of summer when your mom delivers you a little piece of seemingly innocuous news, a piece of glittering information wrapped in old magazines and tied with cheap string to disguise its sparkle. Her voice literally vibrates with excitement when she tells you, which probably should serve as a warning or a signal of some sort, but in your defense, you’re tired from a day of classes and research programs and just want to eat and die.

“Our old neighbors are coming back!” she bursts, a spring in her step that you haven’t seen since the day you were accepted to your current prestigious research camp. “You know, the Lees who used to live next door?”

You blink once, then twice before the information sinks in. A memory settles at the front of your mind. “The Lees?”

“Yes!” She smiles widely. “I missed Yuna so much, I can’t believe she and her family are actually moving back. Don’t you remember, you used to be such good friends with Juyeon?”

More blurry memories of playing in the grass and dancing in the living room with a chubby little boy flash through your mind. You remember playdates that turned into study sessions in middle school, study sessions that disappeared when Juyeon moved away. And though you’d like to forget it, you remember sobbing your eyes out the day he left at the end of summer, the weather turning to fall. Sunflowers were blooming that day, wreathing your lawn in an unfairly bright ring of yellow as you wrapped him in one last hug before his father started the car and the family drove away.

“Mhm,” you only say, taking a box of cookies out of the cupboard. “I remember.”

“Won’t it be so much fun for you two to meet again?” Your mother’s smile turns suggestive as she side-eyes you. “You two were always so adorable together. Didn’t you once say he was your boyfriend in kindergarten?”

That memory makes you cringe. “Thanks, Mom, I was doing a really good job of forgetting that before you mentioned it.”

“Oh, hush.” She shoos you out of the kitchen. “You two were so cute together. I have no doubt you’ll be the best of friends again when they come back.”

“I haven’t seen him in four years, Mom,” you remind her. “People change.”

A glint comes into your mom’s eye. “Maybe so,” she replies cryptically, “but some feelings remain.”

Okay, so in hindsight, you should’ve taken a lot of what she said as a warning that your life was about to get flipped upside down by Juyeon’s homecoming. But with everything already on your mind, you more or less forget about the news until one day towards the end of summer, when your dad tells you to come straight home after your classes.

You stare up at him over your bowl of cereal. “Why?” you ask, mouth full.

“You don’t remember?” Your mom sits down just across from you. “The Lees are moving back in today, and we’ve invited them to dinner!”

Your brain buffers for a good few minutes before you finally recall your dad saying something about “dinner with the Lees when they come back” a couple weeks ago. “I didn’t know they already came back.”

“Well, they are.” Your mom’s fingers tap on the table with excitement. “You have your research, but we’ll be helping them move back in today, and then they’re coming over for dinner. We’ll probably already be home before you get back, so try not to look too messy, okay?”

Wincing, you remember the several still-recovering formic acid burns on your forearms from several days ago. You can’t hide those. “I’ll do my best,” is all you promise.

So that afternoon, instead of staying behind and chatting with a few friends, you find yourself walking down the sidewalk to the front of your house much earlier than usual. There are new cars in the driveway next door.

With the sunflowers beginning to bloom on your and your neighbors’ lawns, it feels eerily similar to the day Juyeon and his family left.

A slight wave of nervousness roils in your stomach. Quickly, as you walk up the pathway to your house, you try to untangle your hair with your fingers, straightening out your shirt as best as you can. As tired as you are, you don’t want to make a bad impression on your parents’ good friends. You don’t exactly want to look horrible in front of Juyeon, either. Even though he probably doesn’t have any idea what you look like anymore.

With a deep breath, you grip the doorknob and twist. It’s locked.

Frowning, you look down at the unmoving handle. Your parents must’ve locked it by force of habit when they came back.

So you knock.

Literally nothing could have prepared you for the boy who opens the door several seconds later to your pounding. He’s tall, muscled, with fine features and a curious look in his eyes, and he looks vaguely familiar.

For several seconds, the two of you just stare at each other, neither saying a word. As you’re trying to figure out why a really hot guy is at your house right now, a much more familiar woman appears in your line of vision, smiling widely as she holds out her arms to you. “Oh, my!” she cries, pushing past the boy to wrap you up in a hug. “I haven’t seen you in so long! You’ve grown so much!”

“Hi, Mrs. Lee,” you reply, still trying to figure out who the tall boy is. It isn’t until she starts pulling away that you realize he has her nose and her eyes.

Huh?

Then –

Fuck.

Oh, fuck.

Oh, fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

You nearly stumble back into the door from shock. “JUYEON?”

. . .

Juyeon thought his feelings for you had disappeared, he really did. When he moved away and thought he was never coming back, he took the love he’d held for you for so long, put it into a box at the back of his heart, locked it, and threw the key away. And as the years slowly passed, one after another, the box slowly disappeared from the forefront of Juyeon’s mind. He never forgot about it, but memories of you eventually stopped plaguing his mind day and night.

But that box never disappeared, not really. He thought it did, thought it dissolved into nothing over the years. Instead, it stayed, small but there, waiting for the right moment to burst and flood his body with the feelings he’d so carefully packed away so long ago.

That right moment is apparently when he opens the door to see a face he really never thought he’d ever see again.

Juyeon doesn’t recognize you, not at first. At second glance, he can pick out some distinct features that stayed the same (namely the sparkle in your eyes that hasn’t changed, even after all this time away). But during those first moments when he opens the door, he just stands there, trying to figure out who this person in front of him is.

Then it hits him, and the box of feelings explodes just as his mom starts pushing him away to wrap you in a hug.

You clearly don’t recognize him, judging by the curious looks you keep giving him over his mom’s shoulder. That makes Juyeon self-conscious – he hasn’t changed that much from when he left, has he? – and the embarrassment only compounds when you stumble back into the door, eyes widening as you yell his name in shock.

So, suffice to say, the conversation between you two at dinner is almost nonexistent. You look like you want the ground to eat you alive in your seat across from Juyeon, eyes barely looking up throughout the whole meal, talking only when someone asks you a direct question. Meanwhile, Juyeon’s stuck in his head.

Why, he despairs, didn’t these feelings actually disappear? Why does he still want to look into your eyes, get lost in your gaze like he used to so many years ago? Thoughts spin in circles in his head, thoughts of how you’ve changed and how you’ve stayed the same and how, oh God, his heart still races like no tomorrow when you meet his eyes for the briefest second before looking away out of embarrassment.

Juyeon needs a moment. He needs a moment to breathe, to think, to reason himself through this whole situation, which is why he volunteers to wash the dishes after dinner. Your mom starts praising him for being a perfect son and he dutifully lowers his head in embarrassed acknowledgment, thanking the heavens that he’ll have a moment to actually think, before she then looks at you to ask, “Why don’t you help Juyeon too?” and the world starts crumbling around his feet.

In perfect tandem, the two of you start picking up empty plates and bowls and carrying them to the kitchen sink. The adults make their way to the living room, laughing and chattering loudly, which only makes the potent silence between you two more prominent.

“I can wash,” you offer awkwardly, still barely able to look Juyeon in the eye (which is perfectly fine, because he thinks he might combust if you do just that). “You can dry? If you’re all right with that.”

“Yeah, that’s fine.” Juyeon tries to flash a smile, hoping it isn’t too shaky (the thumping in his heart makes it feel like the world is trembling around his feet). As the water runs and you start passing plates over to him, he does his best to ignore how close you are, how easy it would be to accidentally brush your arm with his.

Silence reigns until half the dishes are dry, and then you open your mouth. “Sorry about earlier,” you blurt, embarrassment and shame visible on your face. “I, uh, didn’t recognize you at first. Freaked out for a second.”

It’s surprisingly easy to laugh at that, to laugh at a statement that’s so blatantly you. You still haven’t changed, Juyeon thinks – you’re still the same bluntly apologetic friend he was in love with four years ago. It cheers him when your lips begin to turn up at his burst of laughter, face still embarrassed but beginning to warm with some happiness. “It’s okay,” he says, drying the next plate. “I didn’t recognize you either, not at first.”

“Well, I guess we can say that we’ve both changed,” you acknowledge, finally looking up fully.

Your smile could bring legions to their knees, Juyeon thinks. It certainly stops his hands from drying the next dish – in fact, he almost drops it. Even though the curve of your lips is small and he can’t see all of your teeth, the sparkle in your eye more than makes up for it. “Yeah,” he breathes. “Yeah.”

The two of you scrub dishes for the next few minutes in quiet again. Juyeon has no idea what you’re thinking, but he’s just trying to calm the beating in his heart.

This is not how he expected to feel when he moved back. Not at all. What he’s feeling isn’t even just everything he locked away at the end of seventh grade – somehow, the emotions have multiplied, compounded over years of neglect, and now he’s getting the full force of it.

“My mom wants us to be friends again,” you say, breaking the silence once again. “What do you think about that?”

Um, what the fuck is that supposed to mean? Juyeon thinks. Do you want to be his friend again? Or are you only trying to be nice to him for the sake of your parents?

“Well.” Juyeon bites his lip. “If you want to be friends again, I’d like that. But if it’s, um, just because of your mom, we don’t have to.”

At that, you smack a rubber-gloved, soapy hand against your head, shrieking slightly when you realize there are suds in your hair. Juyeon laughs, really laughs as he hands you a towel from a nearby rack. “God, I’m a fucking mess,” you groan, wiping the bubbles from your forehead. “Sorry. I didn’t mean that. I don’t want to be your friend again just because of our parents, that was just the only way I could think of to bring up the topic and yeah, I should’ve thought this out, I’m a fucking idiot.”

“Didn’t you get into one of the most prestigious research camps in the country?” Juyeon counters, hands moving automatically to take the towel from you and wiping off the suds himself. “You’re not an idiot.”

“Yes, I am.” You sigh. “I think it’d be nice to be friends again. If that’s fine with you.”

With your words fluttering in his heart, it takes Juyeon a good moment to realize he’s been standing with the towel pressed against your head for a full few seconds. Heat rising to his ears (he hopes you don’t see that), he quickly wipes off the last of the bubbles and returns the towel to the rack. “That’d be nice,” he echoes softly. “I’d like that.”

The smile you give him, tentative but much wider than before, makes Juyeon feel like he’s flying. He’s so far gone, he thinks, drying the last dish. He’s only seen you again for a few hours, and already your smile has him feeling some kind of way.

He’d follow that smile, he thinks. He’d follow that smile anywhere, just like one of the sunflowers on your lawn outside chasing the sun from dawn to dusk. That’s all he is, after all. A sunflower, following the light of your smile.

And as you look up, eyes scrunched as he says something to make you laugh, Juyeon doesn’t think he minds.

Not in the slightest.

178 notes · View notes

shelby-love · 4 years ago

Text

FRED WEASLEY

Battle of Hogwarts

Requested: yes (by anonymous)

Prompts: none (Voldemort’s lines (cursive) are from the movie)

Warning(s): mentions of death, angst

Word count: 1.9K

Author’s note: I’m weak guys I literally cried while writing this. UGH! Movie 8 is so freaking devastating how can it be someone’s favorite?? If it’s your fav than you’re a freaking soldier! Anyhow, enjoy this because we all know Freddie deserves it! God I wish he lived :’( In the movie I mean lmaooo 💀

Link to Voldy’s little whispering announcement is here! Recommend watching it so you get the feels.

The once peaceful night had turned into a rampage in a matter of seconds. Just 16 hours prior to the battle you were sleeping late with Fred at the Burrow, inhaling his familiar scent until it lulled you back to sleep eventually.

Now you stand filthy, with cuts and bruises all over your body, looking around as the school you had attended not too long ago became a battleground for all witches and wizards.

Tears threatened to spill down your cheeks, the sickly smiles the Death Eaters pranced around with suddenly being too scary to look at. The wind was no calmer than yourself - it blew harshly, pushing your hair violently to one side while you turned your head to look the other way. Death Eaters had penetrated Hogwarts and you were all alone to fight off the first wave.

Jets of green light flew past you in the heat of the moment, missing you by a tiny fraction of an inch. You ducked behind a fallen statue doing your best to ignore the never ending screams of curses. A giant plotted around the debris, walking in a semi-circle while trying to catch a few wizards onto his half-moon shaped weapon of choice.

No one had your back, only the stone statue you trusted enough to lean your back against.

The sight before you was truly terrifying. So many memorable places had turned upside down into something you didn't recognize. Didn't try to recognize. So many memories were squished into anguish. Pain.

Fear for your loved ones.

"Fred!" You screamed out in terror. Your boyfriend was not by your side, having split up from you when he went after his older brother Percy. You didn't see him anywhere since that moment on, but perhaps that was a good thing. Fred wasn't outside to see what the grounds has turned into. He wasn't there to hear the despairing screams that surrounded you. "Fred!"

Another burst of green had escaped from someone's wand, sneaking up to your body with force. The death curse awaited you - no one could deny it.

But something blocked it. A surge of light - pure bright light - blinded you for several seconds before it died down to a spark, leaving you squinting your eyes at the savior in gratitude.

"You really think I'd let my future sister-in-law die like that?" Said George, his voice unmistakably similar to Fred's. It wrapped around you like a cloak of protection, reassuring you that there was still hope.

That you weren't alone.

"You're alive!" Your voice, unlike George's, lost all its light as you staggered to your feet hastily.

"Course I am," said George teasingly though his dashing smile turned into a thin line of worry fairly quickly. He grasped your elbow and dragged straight inside until you met the corridors you roamed around your entire adolescent life. Without a choice but with full trust, you followed after George, watching as the robes on his shoulders held themselves on by mere threads, his whole body blackened by the smoke. Just like yours.

Panic flared within you. You could hear even more screams inside the school - the only place that was free of tall, monstrous giants with voices that shook the ground like bombs.

People, good and bad, screamed out both curses and jinxes while dueling. Your head snapped into different directions every second you were inside, readying your body to defend yourself.

George stopped suddenly, pushing you back behind him and blocking an unavoidable Avada Kedavra before turning back to you. He looked panicked, "Find Fred! He's on the seventh-floor corridor with Perce! Go!"

"I can't leave you, George!" You bellowed in between screaming a jinx at a dark hooded Death Eater.

"I don't think you have much of a choice in this matter, sis!" He said without a backward glance, hurling you into the opposite direction with a mere swipe of his wand. "Go!"

And so you listened, running off to find the man you loved while leaving his brother behind with a heavy heart.

The long-lost piece to your heart, although the piece that belonged to George since birth.

Fred.

You ran forwards through the halls you knew like your own home representing a mad-woman. Every so often, after cursing a different Death Eater through the window you would glance around and choke back a sob.

The halls, per se, weren't as devastating to see; it was the lack of greeting smiling faces that once stood proudly up on the walls that broke your heart. The people from the pictures had disappeared, no longer greeting you in passing like before.

Just then the sound of thunder penetrated through the land, like a storm greeting you on the doorstep. The room began to tremble, your head pulsing to the point you thought it would explode.

And then His voice echoed.

"You have fought valiantly... but in vain. I do not wish this. Every drop of magical blood spilled is a terrible waste."

You dug your hands into your hair like doing so would push Him out.

It didn't.

Although His whispers remained there, His influence did not.

Only at the sight of Fred backed up against the wall with Augustus Rookwood at his feet did Voldemort's voice drain down your ears into oblivion. He had his wand pointed to Fred whose own wand had been knocked out of his hold, disarming him.

Power surged through your being and without much thinking, a bright light of a jinx blasted out your wand, neatly hitting the Death Eater making him drop his wand and crumble to the ground like a pile of ash.

You drew in a suffocating gasp for air and dropped to your knees, a wave of wet tears threatening to spill over like a river. Augustus blew away with the wind, leaving only the two of you alone.

For now.

Instinctively, you cupped Fred's cheeks with your shaky hands and pressed your forehead against his. The whispering was getting too much. "Shh...you're okay..."

"I therefore command my forces to retreat. In their absence, dispose of your dead with dignity."

"Y/N?"

"N-no, don't speak Freddie," you murmured sadly, shakily brushing a strand of his hair while pinning his eyes into yours to distract him from the whispers.

He did as you said, locking his eyes with yours and not looking away until it was over. "Fred I love you."

"Harry Potter, I speak now directly to you. On this night you have allowed your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself. There is no greater dishonor. Join me in the Forbidden Forest. If you do not do this, I shall kill every last man, woman and child who tries to conceal you from me."

And just like that, the castle became unnervingly quiet. Every blast of light that sparked around was no more than a lingering smell in the air, unharmful to anyone - rendered completely useless.

You didn't know for how long this eerie bit of peace and quiet would last, but you were going to use it up completely.

"I-I..." Fred started, although no more words followed after that. He swallowed the rest of the thought heavily, instead letting you silently help him stagger to the Great Hall.

You tried not to look at the blood, but how could you not? It was everywhere, littering the walls and walkway even though no physical contact had to be made in order to kill someone using magic. It just comes to show just how merciless the dark followers truly are. You bit down on your trembling lip, suppressing the dark thoughts that invaded your mind.

Fred had thought the same apparently as he looked just as broken and tired as you did when you stopped in the doorway of the Hall, not knowing what awaited for you beyond those doors.

The room that used to be the liveliest place on earth shuddered with silence, only footsteps could be heard. Tears rounding up as a close second.

People were bawling. Although quietly, as if the fallen were asleep.

The house tables, the tables of pronounced rivalry between the four houses were gone. What crowded the room were the people, their arms around each other's necks. The injured were being treated but the dead lied in the middle of the hall.

Your friends mourned their loved ones; professors sat quietly by the side, looking grim but with hope still glimmering in their eyes; kids who you had nothing to do with during your schooling suddenly felt like the closest of friends, their closed eyelids will never open again. It tore your heart.

The first of many sobs escaped. You paused ever so slightly, pushing Fred back too without even realizing it. Breathing became harder, your lungs became tighter. Life was too harsh at that moment.

Inhale. Exhale.

"Y/N hey," said Fred softly, cupping your chin with utmost of care. Almost as if he was scared a simple touch could break you. "It's okay. Look at me, love."

You shook your head, unable to do as he said, "Fred? Y/N?"

Both Fred and you glanced at George who was standing amidst the crowd, looking worse than he did before. But at least he had a smile.

"Go." You gave Fred a simple nod, and he didn't even waste a second. Both brothers ran for each other, winding their arms around each other's necks. You could hear their cries of agony and the falling tears, so you turned your head to hide your own set of tears. All you could do was release the emotions, you came to realize.

There was something about the twins, as if they felt what no one in the world could. Perhaps that's what made them so close, a joy to be around really. Like many, they fought, but then they simply synchronized at the right time and all became good again.

There was something about knowing that the love of your life's brother was okay that made the world a bit more bearable. George was a part of Fred no one could replace - you, Molly, Arthur, Ron, ... You didn't want to live to see the day Fred mourns over his brother too soon.

But Fate smiled down on you, reuniting the two soulmates as a gift to the world.

Ginny walked toward you so quietly you almost failed to notice her, but when you did your lips curled sadly; her face was swollen, and she looked to be in a great deal of pain, but she hugged you tightly despite it. Your arms mimicked her own, pulling her close until the comfort balanced out.

Soon, the rest of the Weasleys joined, showing just how grateful they were for each of their kids. Hermione and you closed in on them too, and they immediately pulled you into the group, showering you with love while your parents couldn’t.

Remus and Tonks looked peaceful, looking as if they were resting while laying down next to each other, their hands touching. You didn't have the heart to wake them, you decided. Instead, you kneeled down and thanked them. Promised them that their son would learn and grow up to be just like the two of them.

You yearned not to feel, but that was simply not possible. So, you turned to Fred, tears travelling down your cheeks, every thought fried and cluttered - his eyes dimmed sadly. Fred reached out and pulled you to him, hugging you securely, his strong arms becoming a shield of love no one could break. You felt his tears travel down your neck and that urged more of your own to fall down too.

When you finally parted, you looked deeply into his eyes, letting him wipe your tears away. "Please don't leave again." The words barely managed to break out as the sobs you started to withhold chocked your voice back. Fred's eyes softened, his chin rested on top of your head when he brought you back to him. His arms clenched you tighter this time, like a promise.

"I'll never leave you again. I promise."

MASTERLIST

Here is the link to my tag list masterpost! If you want to be added to one of my existing tag lists (or perhaps new ones) let me know! :)

✭ GENERAL TAGS (all WIPs):

@fofisstilinski @short-potato @miranda0102 @httphiddlestan @caromichaela @xx-missunicorn-xx @jemmakates @theravenclawmarauder @httphiddlestan @tclaerh @chefdoeuvre @abimoon @sofiasamps @princxss-fia @thirstykpophoe

✭ HARRY POTTER: /

#fred #fred weasley #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley fanfic #fred weasley fluff #fred weasley fanfiction #harry potter imagine #harry potter writing #harry potter #harry potter reader insert #harry potter fanfic #fred weasley angst

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hinadoria · 3 years ago

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Title: like nobody’s business

Author: hinadoria / Twitter: @bunniepunk / AO3: bunnypunk

Rating: Teen

Warnings: Mild amounts of swearing

Summary: Shen Yuan had never known what to do about crying people, much less crying men asleep in his bed at ass o’clock in the middle of the night. God, if Jiu-ge knew about this, Shen Yuan would be six feet under. No, he’d be yeeted directly into hell’s abyss. Arguably though, this was all Jiu-ge’s fault.

AO3: Link

It started when his old roommate Shang Qinghua decided to get hitched at Shen Yuan’s 25th birthday party. Disregarding the fact that it was his birthday party in his apartment that he was paying for (Shang Qinghua was only there to keep an eye on him at Jiu-ge’s ever insistent demands), an increasingly hammered Shang Qinghua had decided it was the perfect time to propose to his disappointingly sober boyfriend.

“My LORd, have yOU EvEr ThoughT about Getting HitchED?!” he shouted in Mobei-Jun’s face. Shen Yuan saw the wince on Mobei-Jun’s face before he could smooth it away. Airplane-Bro had that effect on people. Even his boyfriend was no exception.

However, Mobei-Jun had silently pulled the biggest ring Shen Yuan had ever seen out of his pocket like it was a dimension to worlds unknown. Shang Qinghua yanked it out of his grasp, put it on, and immediately started sobbing loudly in his boyfriend's arms, effectively ruining the atmosphere.

If it wasn’t because Shen Yuan was already secretly plotting to escape to his room, he might have been significantly more miffed at this sequence of events.

After all, he had never been one for big, lavish events like a formal birthday party. He’d much rather spend it in the comfort of his room, maybe playing videogames with a few close friends. However, Jiu-ge had insisted, in that stubborn way of his, taking no arguments. As a result, Shen Yuan wasn’t sure he even knew half the people at his own party.

This all didn’t mean he was completely free of indignation, however. Shen Yuan cleared his throat pointedly, but was ignored by both the affectionate couple and the crowd of people politely applauding.

It was a testament to Mobei-Jun’s excitement, if he was a man that felt such emotions, that he leaped up onto the table, which creaked dangerously with his weight.

“I’d like to thank my dear friends and my soon-to-be best man who supported me through this time. Whom I wouldn’t have met without Shen Yuan’s recommendation to work at Cang Qiong’s internship program under Shen Jiu. So a heartfelt thanks to them both,” Mobei-Jun proclaimed.

The attention of the party turned to its host, who began to turn hot under all the attention.

Damn, it wasn’t as if he was Mother Teresa.

He had simply wanted to stop hearing Jiu-ge’s nagging complaints about a lack of competent interns at his company. And he knew that Airplane-bro’s boyfriend was just about to graduate. It was simple math.

Either way, he had to resolve this situation before Mobei-Jun broke the table or worse, made him give a speech. He quickly grabbed an abandoned glass from the table and raised it high. With raucous cheer, the party returned to full swing, and Shen Yuan strategically retreated to his bedroom.

The next day, Shang Qinghua had all but been moved out of his apartment (Mobei-Jun worked fast and efficiently. Shen Yuan had been begrudgingly impressed). In the midst of his soporific haze, a loud banging came from his front door. Reluctant to get up, Shen Yuan nevertheless used every last bit of his willpower to do so. When he opened the door however, he immediately found himself in deep regret.

A pale Jiu-ge, like Bloody Mary summoned from a dirty elementary school bathroom mirror, stood at his door, foot tapping a mile a minute. He stormed past Shen Yuan into his apartment and curled his mouth in distaste at the mess.

“This apartment is no longer acceptable. I’ve put up with it until now, but this is the last straw. It is imperative that you move out immediately to a place not infested by the stench of the poor,” Jiu-ge demanded. Shen Yuan would never tell him it was probably the week-old ramen stewing on his kitchen counter.

“But I don’t want to, Jiu-ge, please!” he whined. Like most things regarding his older brother, would eventually yield, but would put up a valiant effort nonetheless. No one had the right to accuse him of being a pushover, after all.

Jiu-ge sat down at his oily counter with a sigh, hands flying up to bury themselves in his messy hair.

Shen Yuan immediately felt guilty.

His brother looked a lot less put-together than he usually was, now that he was looking more closely. His shirt was unbuttoned and his makeup was smudged, both facets of his appearance he usually controlled with meticulous determination.

“Please don’t fight me on this, A-Yuan.” His brother looked back at him, and Shen Yuan could see the weariness in his eyes.

“Is everything okay?” asked Shen Yuan. He tapped his fingers nervously.

“It will be,” Jiu-ge answered immediately as if he had expected this question. “Once I get a good night’s sleep.” Shen Yuan moved to sit by his brother.

“Mobei-Jun proposed to Shang Qinghua yesterday,” he offered. This made the crease between Jiu-ge’s brows deeper further.

“At your birthday party?”

“I know, I was shocked too!”

“Rude bastard. I knew nothing good could come out of that tight-knit group of rascals the company foisted on me.”

“Don’t be like that. I bet you secretly appreciate their help, big softie.” Shen Yuan poked at his brother’s cheek, and giggled when Jiu-ge pretended to bite at him. A small smile appeared on his brother’s face, and Shen Yuan rejoiced at the sight. He felt like he deserved an award for Best Brother of the Year.

“I suppose they suffice at times.” Jiu-ge wrinkled his nose like he had thought of something particularly disgusting. “Well. Almost all of them,” he huffed. He shook his head when Shen Yuan looked at him in question. But Best Brother of the Year did not do things half-heartedly.

“I know how to cheer you up even more,” Shen Yuan decided then and there.

That was how Shen Yuan found himself moved into the expensive nouveau-riche apartment complex next door to his brother on the third floor. All things considered, it wasn’t too bad. Jiu-ge was too busy to check up on him more than once a week in person, although the daily calls to his office phone were still a requirement.

Shen Yuan had always been a homebody, there was no denying that. As long as he could coop up in his room reading and editing trashy novels, he didn’t care for the particulars of time or place, even if leaving his apartment and chancing upon another human made him feel like Oscar the Grouch having been caught outside of his trash can and committing a crime.

The point was: it had all been going just fine and dandy, until one day a shout disrupted Shen Yuan from his editing of one of Airplane’s terribly written papapa scenes. He roughly yanked open his curtains, hearing a rip in the plush blue velvet. Whatever, what Jiu-ge didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

The scene which greeted him was one of darkness, which okay, he wasn’t quite expecting that but fine, it wasn’t the first time he had lost track of time doing this and that. Shivering, Shen Yuan stepped out onto his balcony and peered over the rails to see a very attractive, very drunk man holding a broken bottle of what looked like Xin Mo liquor.

“Shen Jiu, there you are, you fucking bastard. Fucking coward! What, too afraid to come and see your disgusting student Binghe on this beautiful night? You always thought you were above us mere mortals, didn’t you? I hope both sides of your pillow are always ice!”

Yikes, Shen Yuan thought privately.

This dude was hammered. Despite everything a laugh bubbled its way up his chest. He didn’t know his brother was so unpopular at work but with a sour face like his, he should’ve expected. Briefly, the thought of pretending to be his brother just to hear more of the entertaining insults crossed his mind, but before he could open his mouth the man, probably named Binghe, went on.

“I bet you think you wake up just looking like an angel descended from the heavens! Well let me tell you, scumbag, that I curse you and your descendents to always have shaky eyeliner! Let’s see you keep up that hoity-toity look and scream at me when you come into work looking like a clown!”

Shen Yuan covered his eyes in horror. Not his eyeliner! He had to look sharp for the ladies.

“I fixed that stupid assignment one million times! Your nitpicking doesn’t even make sense anymore, you blind geezer! Come down here, if you’re not a coward and I’ll show you ...” Binghe paused, looking like he was gonna hurl.

“Show me what? You can’t leave me hanging like that, I won’t be able to sleep!” Shen Yuan shouted out, against his better judgement. He had already been collecting Binghe’s flavored insults to use against that traitor Shang Qinghua next time he saw him.

Binghe looked back up, with what seemed like confusion in his eyes, though it could have just been bleary drunkenness. To Shen Yuan’s horror, it looked like Binghe had tears in his eyes.

“All I wanted was for Laoshi to acknowledge me,” Binghe sobbed out. At this point Shen Yuan had missed his chance to tell the poor man that his brother was out of town on a business trip, and that Binghe was shouting at a stranger. He felt something in his chest squeeze at Binghe’s watery puppy dog eyes.

“Why does everyone look down on me?” Binghe cried. “I try so hard, over and over but all you do is scorn me … again and again! What do I have to do, just tell me, and I’ll do it. Anything! Just …” At this point the boy was choking on his sobs. Shen Yuan felt something shattering. He found himself walking down the stairs. He was going to go down and fetch him before the police were called, that was all, he told himself.

By the time he arrived on the cold grass ready to coax the drunkard, he found him passed out, clutching the broken bottle so hard his hand was bleeding. Shen Yuan sucked in a sharp breath.

“Alright buddy, let’s get you warmed up,” Shen Yuan said as he pried the glass from Binghe’s hand and used all his strength to haul him up and to the elevator.

He got several strange looks as he dragged an unconscious man across the fancy lobby, but Shen Yuan just snorted and ignored them. The people here had sticks so far up their ass they were getting free prostate massages. Shen Yuan stifled his laughter at his own wit in Binghe’s dead weighted shoulder and got a few more strange looks by the lady in the elevator. Halfway to Shen Yuan’s room, Binghe woke up and stared at Shen Yuan like he was an alien.

He struggled a bit and whined, “Laoshi, please don’t dropkick me into the Panama Canal, I promise I’ll be a good boy.”

Shen Yuan laughed and patted Binghe’s hair. “Go back to sleep, rowdy boy. We’ll talk in the morning.” It probably wasn’t because of his words, but Binghe managed to walk a few steps on his own before becoming dead weight on Shen Yuan again. He felt the breath knocked out of him.

“For someone who’s such a crybaby, you sure are … heavy!” Shen Yuan panted as he managed to drag Binghe into his apartment and throw him onto his bed. He shoddily wrapped up Binghe’s bleeding hand with several bandages. Novels may have taught him a lot, but he had surprisingly little practical knowledge when faced with a gash like Binghe’s in reality.

The fatigue of the night finally caught up with him as he saw Binghe’s peaceful sleeping face and he barely managed to do his nightly routine before sliding into his bed next to the unconscious person.

Shen Yuan was just about to drift away into sleep until he heard sniffling coming from the other man and turned around to see Binghe crying in his sleep.

And so was his current dilemma. Shen Yuan had no idea how to handle crying people. He stared dumbly for a few moments before kicking himself to do something, anything!

Shen Yuan wouldn’t do this for any random stranger that came knocking to his door, but luckily he had gleaned several useful tidbits of information from Binghe’s drunken speech. For example, he was likely one of Jiu-ge’s new interns at the large Cang Qiong Company he worked at, under the Qing Jing subsidiary. Second, Jiu-ge seemed to be giving the poor boy an extremely hard time, and Shen Yuan knew better than anyone just how sharp his brother’s acerbic tongue could be. Shen Yuan felt mildly responsible for cleaning up his brother’s mess.

Also, Binghe was terribly cute. He reminded Shen Yuan of the little puppy he used to play with in childhood, named Bingbing, after his favorite actress.

It was a combination of these facts, or none of them, that ultimately made Shen Yuan do what he did next; wrap his arms around Binghe and gently stroke his hair, murmuring comforting words to him until he stopped crying.

Somewhere along the way he found himself asleep as well.

Binghe awoke from his drunken stupor sometime between ass and fuck o’clock in the morning. His hand was covered in messily wrapped bandages.

When he saw the face of the person fast asleep next to him, he flinched backwards so hard he almost fell out of the bed.

What did I do last night? He wailed miserably in his head. A worst case scenario flashed through his head, and he made sure that both of them were clothed before exhaling a sigh of relief. That was the last time he let Mobei-Jun get him drunk, bachelor party be damned.

The last thing he remembered was accepting a glass full of alcohol in the bar he’d been dragged to, but everything afterwards was a blur. He didn’t remember how he walked all the way to his boss’s nouveau riche apartment, and he certainly didn’t remember how he ended up in bed with the man he was most fearful of.

There was one thing Binghe knew with full certainty, however; he had to escape this apartment immediately before he lost his job or worse: his life.

He had barely turned around and registered vaguely that the apartment was a lot sloppier than he’d expected of his avaricious boss before a sleepy hum made him freeze in his tracks.

“Mmm… Binghe?”

Binghe froze. Shen Jiu had never called him by name, it was always something along the lines of “scum” or “lad”.

Filled with trepidation, he turned to face his boss against his better judgement.

A sleepy smile stretched its way across the face of the person in front of him just as the morning’s rays peeked through the rip in the curtains and fell across his face.

Angelic, Binghe’s mind vaguely registered. Maybe he hadn’t come to his boss’s apartment after all. Maybe he had died and entered a realm different than the one he’d been in. Maybe he was already in heaven.

The angel’s face scrunched up cutely at the offending rays across his face. He glanced at the curtains before letting out a forlorn sigh.

“Jiu-ge’s gonna kill me for that …” sighed the angel across from Binghe.

Jiu-ge? Who’s that, I’ll fight him so you never have a frown on your pretty face ever again, Binghe thought blearily.

Mr. Angel noticed he was awake and smiled a crooked smile.

“Good morning. You were drunk and screaming outside my window last night, so I thought I’d do a public service and take you in before you hurt yourself, “ the angel laughed nervously. “Binghe is your name, right?”

Binghe nodded, feeling like his body was not his own. Then he had a thought.

“Wait … how do you know?”

The angel’s lips thinned, looking like he was trying really hard not to laugh. Oh, that was not a good sign.

“Well … You dropped your name in the middle of shouting about how you wished your boss’s food was too salty, among other things …”

The wave of relief that was about to pass through Binghe at realizing this person was likely not his boss aborted itself as it was overtaken by sheer waves of mortification.

Binghe covered his face with his hands, letting out an ungodly groan of embarrassment.

“Binghe… I’m saying this for your own good.” Mr. Angel looked into Binghe’s eyes seriously. “Do you know how to use swear words?”

Binghe immediately pouted, feeling like he was being made fun of. He couldn’t find it in himself to be truly annoyed, however, at the angel’s bell-like peals of laughter smothered by his hand. It was such a stark contrast to his boss’s restrained expressions.

“Ah! I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Shen Yuan, Shen Jiu’s younger twin brother.”

And there was the horror again.

Just as Binghe was about to bid farewell to his short, inconsequential life, Shen Yuan continued chattering. “You’re lucky Jiu-ge’s out of town on a business trip, and that you weren’t actually serenading his window but mine. If he was here, I don’t know if I could have even stopped him from personally throwing you into a jail cell.”

Binghe felt like he had gotten off of a life-threatening roller coaster ride. Stiffly, he rose from the bed and bent ninety degrees into a bow.

“Thanking Shen Yuan for his kindness in rescuing this lowly one from his predicament!” Binghe grew so nervous he immediately started speaking as if he were in a period drama. “In order to repay my honorable benefactor, this one will prepare breakfast!” He rushed away before Shen Yuan could speak a single word.

Once Binghe found the kitchen, he allowed himself a mini-freakout session. He! Was in! His boss’s younger brother’s bed! And the younger brother was an angel! Even though Binghe was fairly certain nothing untoward had occurred between the two of them the night prior, he felt every inch of his nerves tingling. He was also fairly certain that any other person that lacked Shen Yuan’s generosity would have immediately called the police on him at the least.

This was the first time anyone had done something so selfless for his sake.

Unbidden, a flush streaked across his cheeks, and Binghe slapped at himself to get out of it. Shen Yuan was his benefactor, and it would be wrong to have indecent thoughts about someone so innocent. There may not be much Binghe was good at, as he had learned from his internship under Shen Jiu, but the least he could do was cook him a decent breakfast.

Shen Yuan was roused from his half-wakeful state by the smell of something good coming from the kitchen. Which was weird because last he checked, there was nothing in there but dust and half-eaten ramen. (Yes, he had a problem.)

Wait … Binghe!

It was a little belated, but the nagging voice in Shen Yuan’s head that sounded suspiciously like Jiu-ge berated himself for falling asleep again while a stranger was in his apartment. A cute stranger, but a stranger nonetheless.

Shen Yuan, the voice nagged. One of these days you’re going to get yourself murdered in cold blood …

Alright, shut up, you. No one wants to hear this in the early morning, Shen Yuan bickered back.

“Sir?” Binghe’s voice nervously called from the kitchen entrance.

Shen Yuan immediately relaxed back into what he thought was a cool pose.

“There’s no need for formalities, Binghe. After all, you’ve already slept in my bed.”

Binghe’s ears flushed red at his words, and he swayed back and forth like a maiden on the morning after her wedding night. Shen Yuan stopped this strange line of thinking once he realized how weird it was.

“I made you breakfast as a thank you for er… handling me last night,” Binghe said softly.

Well, that didn’t help his strange thoughts. The last conscious thought Shen Yuan had was that he’d better go and eat the poor shy guy’s food since he had made it already.

He didn’t recall getting up or sitting down at the kitchen table, but the next thing he knew he was staring down at an empty plate, stomach full of delicious food.

“I don’t know what to think. This is the first time this has happened to me.” It wasn’t, but Shen Yuan had always had a flair for the dramatic. “If you can cook so well, why are you wasting your time under my brother’s wing? You should go be a professional chef, and share this magic with the rest of the world.”

It wasn’t empty praise. Shen Yuan genuinely believed he’d be blessed if he could eat like this every day for the rest of his life. His terrible habit of crappy eating would be forever changed.

Binghe was so red he looked like a tomato.

Abruptly, the sounds of a phone ringing disrupted the nice atmosphere. Binghe’s face paled.

“Oh no, I left Mobei-Jun at the club last night. He must be wondering where I am. The bachelor party got kind of crazy.”

Hm? Mobei-Jun? Shen Yuan slapped his forehead in realization. Of course! Binghe was a part of Jiu-ge’s interns, of course he knew Mobei-Jun. Shen Yuan had no idea how he had failed to make that connection. He might even be the best man Mobei-Jun had mentioned, since he was pretty sure the third intern was a woman. Sha Hualing, he believed her name was?

Either way, Shen Yuan hadn’t realized he and Binghe were so closely connected. Besides, he hadn’t felt comfortable calling Binghe a stranger, now that they no longer were.

Maybe he’d get a chance to see Binghe in a tux at the wedding? That would be so cute! Of course, he’d have to help keep him away from the champagne, especially since Jiu-ge would also be there. That was a nightmare waiting to happen.

While Shen Yuan was off fantasizing, Binghe had gathered all his stuff and prepared to leave. He hovered nervously around the door.

Shen Yuan snapped out of it to bid him goodbye. Binghe smiled shyly.

“Maybe I’ll see you around again sometime?” he asked.

Shen Yuan hid a smile behind his hand, and adopted a lofty expression.

“This immortal does not often descend from his honorable peak. However, if fate wills it to be so, then so shall it be,” he said, imitating Binghe’s earlier style of speech.

Binghe laughed, but kept hovering near the door as if he was waiting for something.

“Alright, your friend must be wondering where you are. Go on, now.” A flash of disappointment crossed Binghe’s face, but he obediently left, looking back like a puppy several times as he did so.

It wasn’t until much later that Shen Yuan would realize he had forgotten to explain that he was friends with Shang Qinghua, and that they would likely see each other again at the wedding. By the time the wedding itself rolled around, it would prove to be an ordeal of its own.

But that would remain a story for another time.

#SVSSS #svsss fic #bingyuan #shen yuan #luo binghe #scumbag self saving system #bingqiuweek2021 #fanfic #day eight #fanfiction #my works

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dykeninthdoctor · 4 years ago

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“people not realizing that tony and rhodey are together” but also basically a rewrite of a1 for @lovelyirony and @official-impravidus

Tony knows the minute he meets Rhodey that he’ll marry him, or that’s what he’d tell people, if he could tell people. In reality, he knows two years into their friendship, when Rhodey brings his favorite pasta dish home from his favorite Italian restaurant, when Rhodey shrugs and said, “You said today was a rough day.”

They don’t get together until three years after that, but the switch from platonic to romantic is as easy as falling into each other’s arms; it’s as easy as fitting two matching pieces of a puzzle together; it’s as easy as the love they feel for each other.

They don’t get married until 2004, until Massachusetts signs a law into place. Momma Robbie marries them on the grass outside the building where they met.

“You’re mine,” Tony says, promises, vows, “And I’m yours.”

“You’ll always be mine,” Rhodey says, promises, vows, “And I’ll always be yours.”

They have to hide it, for too many reasons to count.

Don’t Ask Don’t Tell, Stark Industries, the press…

It’s easier to hide it.

That doesn’t mean it’s not hard, but when Rhodey wakes up to his husband in his arms, and when Tony comes home to his husband trying to cook, and when the world falls away when they’re together, it doesn’t feel hard.

And then they lose each other.

Rhodey loses Tony to the desert, to the unknown, and he has to grieve not as a husband, but as a friend.

He doesn’t give up his search, no matter what his C.O. tells him, no matter what Obidiah tells him.

“Jim,” they both say, “He’s gone.”

No, Rhodey’s heart tells him. He’s not.

Tony loses Rhodey to the same men who took him, to monsters, and he can’t grieve at all.

“No survivors,” Yinsen translates one day.

Something breaks inside Tony.

He doesn’t give up his plan, because if there’s even a chance, he has to take it.

There’s a chance, he thinks. There’s a chance.

“Tony!” Rhodey screams, the desert wind ripping his voice away.

Tony stumbles towards him, a bloody mess of torn clothing and bruised skin and broken bones, but oh, so very alive.

They crash into each other like colliding stars.

“Hey,” Tony mumbles.

Rhodey almost collapses with relief, but he’s too busy holding Tony up to fall. “How was the fun-vee?”

Tony laughs, and it’s weak and raw and quiet, but it’s beautiful.

“Yeah, next time you ride with me, okay?”

“Okay, platypus.”

They fight about the suit, because Rhodey can’t lose Tony again and Tony can’t hurt people anymore.

They come to an agreement when Tony builds a second suit.

“But the truth is…I am Iron Man,” Tony says, and changes everything.

Rhodey’s never been prouder of him.

And then it all happens too fast.

Rhodey doesn’t know Tony’s dying until after he’s cured.

“You should’ve told me,” he growls, buried deep inside his husband.

“I didn’t want to say goodbye,” Tony whispers, skin soaked with sweat and face soaked with tears.

Rhodey kisses him like it’s his last night on Earth, because it isn’t anymore.

Tony wants to join the Avengers, the team that Nick Fury’s putting together.

Rhodey doesn’t trust a word they say, not after Rushman says volatile, self-obsessed, doesn’t play well with others, because Tony isn’t any of those things.

But he’s never been able to stop Tony from doing anything.

He can only be there to catch him after it all, inevitably, goes to shit.

And it does go to shit.

Phil Coulson is the one to tell them that Captain America was found, dug out of the Arctic inside the same plane he flew into it with.

Tony doesn’t want to process it. Rhodey makes sure he does.

“It doesn’t seem real–he isn’t real. He’s never been real, Rhodey, he was always–he’s not–“

“He was the thing that kept Howard from loving you,” Rhodey says, because it’s the truth, and Tony needs the truth.

“Yeah. Yeah.”

Rhodey holds him while he cries.

When Norse gods attack, because that’s what their lives are now, Tony goes. Rhodey doesn’t. He regrets it, later.

Fighting next to Captain America is younger Tony’s dream come true.

Now, it feels more like a nightmare.

Tony knows Rhodey doesn’t trust SHIELD.

So, he lets JARVIS take care of it, an easy quip sliding off his tongue and the hacking implant finding its place on the underside of a monitor.

“When did you become an expert in thermonuclear astrophysics?” an agent asks.

“Last night,” Tony says, shrugging.

Captain America’s eyes, Steve’s eyes, slide to him.

Tony likes to play with fire, or that’s what he’ll let them think, as he pushes Bruce over and over again.

What he really knows is what it’s like to have something that steals away his freedom living inside him.

“Hey!” Steve snaps. “Are you nuts?”

Possibly, Tony thinks, but instead of saying it, he keeps pushing Bruce.

“Is everything a joke to you?”

“Funny things are.”

Steve stares at him.

Tony banters with him, because Rhodey isn’t there to stop him.

“Big man in a suit of armor,” Steve spits, eyes blue as glass and twice as sharp. “Take that off, what are you?”

A husband. A mechanic. A man.

“Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist,” Tony bites back, the words slipping from his tongue far too easy for half of them to be lies.

Steve scoffs. “I know guys with none of that worth ten of you.”

The worst part of it is that it’s true, despite what Rhodey says.

“And I’ve seen the footage. The only thing you really fight for is yourself.”

And doesn’t that just cut, because no, Tony fights for Yinsen, for Rhodey, for the people his weapons killed.

“You’re not the guy to make the sacrifice play, to lay down on the wire and let the other guy crawl over you–“

“I think I would just cut the wire.”

Because it’s easier to find a solution where he doesn’t have to die, where he doesn’t have to leave Rhodey alone.

“Always a way out. You know, you may not be a threat, but you better stop pretending to be a hero.”

“A hero? Like you?” And it’s from years of Howard, years of you’ll never be like him, years of he was my best creation and you’re nothing but a boy, that give him the courage, or the resentment, to speak. “You’re a laboratory experiment, Rogers. Everything special about you came out of a bottle.”

A bottle with a serum that Howard helped stabilize.

Steve doesn’t look away, so Tony doesn’t either, because Rhodey isn’t there to change his gaze.

It hurts, when they lose Coulson, but not as much as it hurts when Fury tries to use it to manipulate them.

Tony leaves before he finishes talking.

Steve finds him.

Tony lets him talk, says what he wants to hear, until Steve asks, “Is this the first time you’ve lost a soldier?”

It hits too close to home, and Tony aches for Rhodey.

Fury’s manipulation works. The Avengers assemble, a colorful team of people more broken than anything else.

Tony talks to Loki; showman to showman.

The entire time, his mind is on Rhodey.

Tony doesn’t know whether to be grateful he isn’t there, or fear that he doesn’t know where he is.

And then it all happens too fast again.

Tony’s flying into the wormhole before he knows it, because what he does know is that Rhodey’s already on his way to New York, knows that the second aliens appeared in the sky, Rhodey was in his suit, and this is the only choice to make. No more cutting the wire.

“Calling Colonel Rhodes,” JARVIS says.

Tony doesn’t take his eyes off the icon of Rhodey’s face as it rings, and rings, and goes silent.

And then everything goes silent.

Rhodey sees Tony falling, sees his husband falling, and then he catches him, like he knew he’d have to.

Tony wakes up with his head in Rhodey’s lap.

“Hey,” he says, trying to keep his voice from breaking.

“You idiot,” Rhodey says, and his voice does break.

“Did we win?”

“You almost died.”

“Yeah, but did we win?”

“I’m gonna kill you so bad, you promised–“

“I love you too, honey bear.”

It doesn’t matter who kisses who first, because they’re kissing, and there are camera shutters going off, and the Avengers are staring, and there are people screaming, and it’ll be all over the news in minutes, but Tony’s alive and in Rhodey’s arms, and that does matter.

#uhhhh so i rewrote all of the first avengers movie but made it iron husbands...this is Fine....this is Good #let's play i spy and point out all of tony's trauma in this #fun fact: tony was gonna be a dad until i scrapped that plot line #anyway i'm thinking of doing a whole drabble solely focused on rhodey's reaction to the palladium poisioning bc that part is my favorite #i'll consider it #tony stark #james rhodey rhodes #iron man #war machine #steve rogers #captain america #rhodeytony #ironhusbands #ironhusbands drabble #tony stark drabble #aven.writing #i still don't know how to tag

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cherryjuicegf · 4 years ago

Note

👉👈 Geraskier prompt? Jaskier gets cursed by a mage that puts him on a killing spree but before he can do anything Geralt shows up and grabs him except he doesn’t have any rope or anything to hold Jaskier down but himself. Cue Geralt holding on as tight as he can to Jaskier whose squirming and fighting until the curse lifts at sunrise as Geralt talks to him and tries to soothe him. Bonus points; for sleepy comfort cuddles afterward 🥰

thank you for hitting my hurt/comfort feels, i hope you enjoy 💕

"What have you done?"

The mage grinned hideously and wriggled as Geralt continued gripping his collar so hard his own fist started to hurt. "Don't be in such hurry, Witcher. It's not like you will catch up with your bard anyway."

"What–" Geralt hadn't managed to end whatever he had the intention of asking before his eye catched a glistening blade some meters away and he heard running. Without second thought he unseathed his sword in lightning speed and turned around to defend himself from a possible oncoming blow, yet he received none. Instead, he discerned quick movement between the trees, away from him. Close to the village. Jaskier.

Fuck.

"There are more dangers in the night than you think, Witcher," spluttered the mage but shut his mouth in an instant as the blade ripped his thigh and he screamed. Geralt didn't wait to see him fall. He ran. He ran faster than he thought he ever would and the times he needed to run in his life were definitely not few. The only difference being, those times he ran for his life. Now he was running for the life of others.

When he finally caught the sight of a bright yellow doublet in the distance, visible even in darkness, he sped up as much more as he could, feeling his lungs ready to burst. At the same time, he saw the walls of the village appearing behind the trees. And Jaskier was dangerously close.

Oh, that would go wrong. Terribly wrong, if he didn't think of something right now.

He was approaching. An idea crossed his mind, though he had no hopes of it succeeding. It didn't daunt him however and he took a deep breath. "JASKIER!"

If he believed in any gods he'd say that was a miracle, because Jaskier actually turned around, albeit for a moment. He was grateful even for that moment though as he came closer and closer. Then he met Jaskier's look and almost stumbled on even ground. It was darker than the night, wild and lost but the sparkle in his eyes was not madness. It was tears.

Jaskier started running again but Geralt was close now so he grabbed his hand and twisted it to cause Jaskier to let out a cry. The knife dropped on the ground. And Geralt's thoughts reached to a halt for a moment.

He had no rope. Not anything to keep Jaskier still. To hold him back.

Oh. That was going to be a really long night.

As Jaskier grunted and tried to free himself from Geralt's grip and pick up the knife, Geralt turned his heart to stone and wrapped his arms tightly around the bard's body, immobilizing its upper part. Jaskier wriggled and growled. "Let me go!" His foot was perfectly available and he used it to kick the witcher on the leg and Geralt growled. "Let me go, Geralt!"

Geralt tightened his arms more and huffed as he started literally dragging him behind, trying to unmute his cries and curses and pleads and closing his eyes as he realized that was the first time he'd heard Jaskier's voice since he fought the mage.

Um, Geralt. I can't feel my feet...

He received another kick and he'd bet Jaskier had put all his might in it because it hurt like hell and he stumbled forwards, causing them both to fall on the ground. Jaskier grunted and lost no time to try to fly but Geralt was quicker and regained control of his arms, tightening them so hard he heard Jaskier gasping in front of him. He tried to sit and Jaskier squirmed again and they rolled on the ground, their faces sinking in dirt and leaves.

"Geralt, please!" Jaskier's voice now sounded raspy and desperate and Geralt huffed and pulled them up abruptly.

"Stop it, Jaskier!"

"I FUCKING CAN'T!"

He was hurting him, he knew he was. And not just physically, since his grip was so tight he could strangle a man if he wanted, but also by forcing him to disobey his mind and giving him no chance to quench the thirst for death that was inculcated in him. He held his breath, trying to restrain the bard's unceasing squirming by persuading himself that the cries and sobs were not real, it was just a dream, a nightmare of the ones he woke up sweating from. He almost laughed at himself. He'd always craved to hold Jaskier. But not like that. Not like that.

"Geralt, I'm begging you!" It was a sob and it was so heartwrenching that it woke the forest, echoing between the trees. And Geralt held his breath.

There are more dangers in the night than you think, Witcher.

The night. It was just for the night. That's what he hoped, although he was afraid of hoping too much, no matter how his eyes were burning and his heart was breaking and his arms went numb and Jaskier screamed and wriggled and cried, no matter how his own thoughts deceived him and he resisted the temptation to loosen his grip more than once, without ever doing so, afraid that if he breathed, Jaskier would be gone. And he wouldn't be the only one.

So they sat there, and although Jaskier's voice went hoarse and his stamina subsided, his mind and body didn't stop flighting. And although Geralt swallowed more tears than he thought he could shed and his head wearily leaned on Jaskier's shoulder to be thrown off by his jerking more than once, he didn't stop holding on.

And he doubted he had lived or would ever live a longer night.

Until the sun rose.

"Geralt..." His voice sounded hollow, distant. Weak. "Geralt, can you let me go?... Please..."

And Geralt let him.

And realised; he hadn't seen his eyes all this time.

Jaskier turned his head and looked at him, shaking and breathing shortly, as if afraid to realize he could control himself again. Then exhaustion overwhelmed him like a wave he struggled to hold back and he released a breath, and fell limp on Geralt's chest. But he didn't fail to stare at him.

Geralt noticed dark circles under his eyes, their blue drowned in sleepless red, and shifted on his seat, placing Jaskier in a more comfortable position on him, guiding his head to rest on his shoulder.

Jaskier waited for a moment and then chuckled, his lips barely managing to form a smile. "That was a damn long night, huh?"

A rough sob escaped his lips and his face contorted. Tears ran down his cheeks. Geralt sighed and embraced him gently, resting a hand on his nape as Jaskier wetted his shirt in tears. His voice came out sweeter than he expected. "Don't fret, Jaskier. It's alright. We're fine now."

"I'm sorry, Geralt... I'm so sorry."

"You don't have anything to be sorry for." Jaskier's whole body was trembling in his arms and Geralt tightened his hug, only that now he didn't hold his breath. Instead, he nuzzled the bard's hair and murmured softly. "It's going to be okay. We're going back to the village," he cupped Jaskier's face as he looked at him with flooded eyes, "you're going to sleep and it will seem like a bad dream." Jaskier huffed a laugh that was choked between the sobs and made to lower his look but Geralt insisted by holding him still, fixing his gaze on him. "Hey. I promise. Everything will be fine, yes?"

Jaskier sniffed and a small smile curved his lips. He nodded. Geralt hummed and pressed his lips on top of the bard's head lolling on his shoulder, and closed his eyes. "Hush now. It's alright."

The bed was softer than they remembered as Geralt laid a half-asleep Jaskier on it and proceeded to take of his boots and his doublet, trying not to wake him. Their clothes were dirty but it was the last thing that occupied his thoughts. He took off his own boots and sat on the bed, then placed his head on his hands and rubbed his face.

The sheets rustled.

"Geralt?" He turned around, saw the bard staring under heavy eyelids. Jaskier bit his lip. "Can you... Can you hold me?"

Please, Geralt heard even though it was not uttered. Yet he needed no plead. Not now. He laid on the bed shuffling closer and wrapped his arm around him. Jaskier rested his head on his chest and heaved a deep, shaking sigh. A whisper that sounded more like a prayer. "Thank you." Then he closed his eyes.

Geralt smiled to himself and stroked his hair. "Shh. Sleep now. I'm here."

He held him, like that. Tightly. And finally slept.

#the witcher #geraskier #jaskier #geralt of rivia #chrysa writes #if it doesn't get posted now i swear to god #prompt fill #nerdy-numinuos

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luxekook · 5 years ago

Text

chapter six.

⇥ pairing: ot7 x reader

⇥ genre: college au with fluff, smut & angst

⇥ summary: a series in which the reader meets (and falls for) seven members of the Beta Tau Sigma (BTS) fraternity

⇥ word count: 4.6k (may have gotten a bit *cough* carried away)

⇥ warnings: 18+, cursing, dirty talk, general chaotic energy, poly relationships, switch!reader, jungkook being a lovable idiot, bad driving, taehyung trying (and failing) to catfish the reader, bar bathroom smut, oral (m receiving), light choking

Chapter Six

Habitat Worksite – 11:25am

The rest of the morning goes by pretty smoothly much to my surprise. The group that I help Eddie orient is from a pub in the neighboring town. They’re so much nicer than the last scarring group I had to deal with, and they’re actually listening to my directions.

I’m pretty sure I have tears in my eyes as I supervise them cutting plywood like professionals – but that could just be the sawdust.

When I become confident that no one is going to injure themselves with the power saw, I recruit some other volunteers to help me transfer the cut wood inside.

As we walk into the house, I almost drop the plywood onto my foot. Jungkook is shirtless, mixing cement together. When had he even arrived? I stare unabashedly at him – The height. The build. The broad shoulders. The veined forearms. The ridged stomach. The tattoos…

Tay, the middle-aged mother of two helping me, follows my line of vision, “Oh my... please tell me you’re hitting that, darling.”

“Tay!” I hiss, my eyes darting around to see if anyone heard her. Sure enough, Jungkook is looking at us and smirking like he was just crowned king of the fucking universe. “I am not hitting anything, thank you very much.”

She makes a derisive noise, “I might be old, but I'm not blind. He’s looking at you like you’re the best thing since sliced bread.”

Jungkook hands off his mixing duties to Matt and saunters over to us, “Hey, noona. You look nice today. Do you need any help?”

“Not hitting that, my ass,” Tay mutters and shoots me a triumphant look as she walks back outside.

I roll my eyes at her antics and turn to Jungkook, “Hi, Kookie. What happened to your shirt?”

Jungkook blushes, “I may have taken it off, and then it may have fallen into the cement.”

My eyes wander around the room until they fall on a sad lump of fabric and semi-dried cement in the corner. My lips twitch.

“Noona-a,” Jungkook whines, “Don’t laugh!”

My body doubles over, shaking with laughter. Tears stream down my face as I try in vain to catch my breath.

“Is she okay?” I vaguely hear Hobi ask before I feel his hand run soothing circles on my back, “(y/n), are you crying?”

I straighten, wiping my tears, “H-he… cemen-nt… sh-shirt…” My cackles resume.

“She’s lost it, hasn’t she?” Yoongi enters the house with eyebrows raised, “It was only a matter of time. Jungkook has that effect on people.”

“Hyung!” Jungkook punches Yoongi in the arm.

"Am I wrong, Hobi?" Yoongi turns to the other boy, who's hand is still firmly on my back.

Hoseok shoots Yoongi a dirty look, "Don't drag me into this. The last time I tried to argue with the two of you I almost got a concussion."

Jungkook smirks, looking way too pleased to receive such an accusation, "I seem to recall you liking it, Hobi-hyung. What was it you were screaming?"

Yoongi snickers as he leans into Jungkook, effectively teaming up on poor Hobi, "I believe the phrase was 'harder, oh my god, harder!'" He and Jungkook collapse onto each other in fits of laughter as Hoseok turns an amusing shade of magenta.

I turn to face Hobi. "Is that how you like it?" I murmur, tilting my head to stare up at him, "You like it hard? Rough?"

Hobi swallows as his pupils dilate. His hand on my lower back suddenly clenches, crumpling my shirt within his fist. "Yes," his voice comes out deeper than I had ever heard it.

Vaguely, I notice the other two boys have stopped laughing. Good. No one would tease my sweet Hobi in front of me and get away with it.

My decision solidifies. "Well," I say, "Then that's how I'll give it to you."

"No one will be giving anything to anyone until we finish this project," Namjoon's voice booms, breaking up your little moment with Hoseok.

The four of you swing to face him, blinking owlishly.

Namjoon's eyes are shut as he pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration, "Jeon Jungkook, for the love of god, where is your shirt?"

An hour later, I found myself stuck in the backseat of Jungkook's black Range Rover. After Hobi, Yoongi, and Jungkook had loudly voiced their opinion in front of the entire worksite that it was their turn to drive me, I had quickly jumped into the car to avoid further humiliation.

Now, I sat wedged in between Hobi and Yoongi who both refused to sit in the front next to Jungkook and also forbade me from doing so. I only agreed because I was not one to miss an opportunity to be pressed up between two hot guys. Sue me.

Glancing down at my thighs, I marvel at the way both of the boys have placed possessive hands on them. "This is so lame," Jungkook complains for the hundredth time as he glances at the three of us in the rearview mirror. "I want to touch noona, too!"

We ignore him.

Yoongi's slim fingers dig in slightly into the softness of my inner thigh, "(y/n)," his hushed words ghost over my neck, "Come home with us?"

"Please," Hobi echoes from my other side. His hand is more brazen in its placement. His pinky just a fraction away from the apex of my thighs.

Perhaps I could close my legs like the proper lady my grandma wanted me to be... but fuck that. I would woman-spread however I damn well please. "Hmm," I pretend to think about it, "No."

"But why?" Hobi pouts, making puppy-dog eyes in my direction, "You said you were going to give it to me."

I shrug, noncommittally, "I never said when."

Jungkook sighs from the driver's seat, "Ah, I love it when noona is evil."

"We fucking know, Jungkook," Yoongi groans, "You only bring it up a thousand times a day."

"Hey!" Jungkook whirls around in his seat, "Stop exposing me, hyung!"

"Eyes on the damn road, JK!" Hobi grips the 'oh shit' bar as the car begins to veer into the bike lane. Jungkook whips back around and quickly rights the car. Meanwhile, Yoongi smirks like the little shit starter he is.

"Looks like I'm not the only evil one here," I roll my eyes, "You're a menace, Min Yoongi."

"Yes, I am," the boy puffs up his chest and grins that gummy smile that he knows makes me melt, "But I'm your menace."

"Ah, gross!"

"Ew!"

Jungkook and Hobi yell as I try not to smile at Yoongi's rare display of cuteness and fail miserably.

"Stop trying to butter me up so that I'll come home with you, Yoongs," I smile and thread my fingers through his.

"Why?" He leans into me, "Is it working?"

"Not at all," I breathe, eyes darting to his lips as his tongue slips out to wet them.

"Liar," Yoongi moves in closer. My eyelids lower in anticipation.

Jungkook slams on the breaks and jolts the three of us forward, "We're here!" Grumbling, I pull my seatbelt away from its death grip on my body.

"Well played, Jungkook, well played," Yoongi comments from beside me.

"Tell that to my fucking neck," Hobi moans as he massages the front of his neck where his seatbelt must have dug in.

"Aw," I take pity on the poor boy and offer half-jokingly, "Want me to kiss it better?"

"YES!" Hobi's hand flies off his neck at the speed of light and thrusts his neck out in my direction.

Jesus, Mary and Joseph, he is adorable.

I place the lightest of kisses against the growing pink mark on his skin and revel in the shudder his body emits.

"Bye, Hobi," I place one last kiss on him and slide out of the car, using the door that Yoongi vacated from.

"Bye, angel!" Hobi cries out after me, waving furiously. So damn adorable.

Once I exit the car fully, I am faced with a pouting Jungkook and an annoyed-looking Yoongi.

"What now?" I eye them warily.

Yoongi gives Jungkook a dark look, and the younger boy backs off slightly. Turning back to me, Yoongi steps forward. "Bye, (y/n)," he says lowly, brushing a fallen strand of hair behind my ear. A light dusting of pink floods his cheeks at his own soft actions. I bite the inside of my cheek to contain my innate reaction to shower him with affection.

That time would come later, I'm sure.

"Bye, Yoongi," I press my mouth his cheek, "Keep your menacing ways to a minimum while I'm not around, would you?"

"No promises," Yoongi drawls, before hopping back into the car.

And just like that I'm left with one tall bashful boy.

"Oh, Jungkook..." I walk towards where he is propped up against the front of his car. His lean body slouches against the hood as his left leg props itself up on front tire. He still has yet to put another shirt on.

"I'm sorry, noona," he speaks to the pavement in the tiniest voice, "I got jealous that I wasn't getting to be that close to you."

I lift his chin up with my finger, "Baby, you were the only one who had my nipples in your mouth last night, and you're jealous of them?"

He swallows hard before grinning, "Well, when you put it like that..."

"Yeah, that's what I thought," I give into the urge to trace the muscles of his stomach. They bunch up under my touch and I smile at his responsiveness. "You know," I continue, "You're going to have to get over this jealousy thing if I do decide to date you all."

"I know, noona," the pout returns, and this time it's paired with a devastating pair of imploring doe eyes. "I just like you. A lot.”

"Well," I smile, "It's a good thing that I also happen to like you. A lot."

"Really?" Jungkook's neck snaps up at an alarming rate, "You do?"

"Yes, you giant idiot," I grip the back of his neck, "Now, kiss me goodbye."

He kisses me. His teeth pull at my bottom lip in a faint bite, and goosebumps spread across my body. I bite him harder in retaliation, but it only seems to urge him closer against me, body hard, warming me everywhere we connect. His fingertips drag down my skin until they reach my waist. His hands slide up under my shirt, and he rests his palms against my skin, fingers splayed down over my hips.

His hold is undeniably possessive. And that would not do.

I lean up and kiss him harder, digging my nails into his back as I tug him against me, feeling every inch of his body respond to my touch. A groan rumbles deep from within his chest.

“Do you think they’re going to come up for air soon?” An amused voice cuts through our make-out session.

Jungkook rips his mouth from mine, “Fuck off, Hobi.”

I open my eyes and blink a couple times before focusing on the smirking faces of Hobi and Yoongi. Their heads are sticking out of the open back window of the Range Rover as they cackle in amusement.

"Hobi," I say sweetly, "Do you need another mark on your neck today?" My hand flexes tauntingly in his direction.

Hoseok's eyes widen, "N-no! Bye again, (y/n)!" He retreats back into the car as Yoongi continues to chuckle before rolling up the window once more.

"You can mark my neck, (y/n)-noona." Jungkook's voice jolts me from my second thoughts on not going home with them.

This boy really is shameless, I think to myself as I shake my head.

"Maybe next time, Kook," I grin at him, "It'll give you something to look forward to."

"For as long as there are next times with you, noona, I will look forward to them."

My heart swells. "You're such a sweetheart, baby boy." The nickname has its desired effect as Jungkook's cheeks blush and his smile widens.

"I'm baby," he nods.

"Yes, you dork, you are," I place a swift peck to his cheek and head into my apartment before I get any more tempted to jump back in his car and initiate a foursome.

God, what were these boys doing to me?

(Y/n) & Luna’s Apartment – 4:15pm

A few hours later, I am deep in an argument with Luna over who the best Queer Eye guy is when my phone buzzes.

[Unsaved Number] 2 New Messages

Luna notices my confusion. "Who is it?" she asks, leaning over to look at my screen.

"No fucking clue," I reply, swiping open the messages.

[Unsaved Number] 4:15pm: “Hey, babe! It's me! Namjoon!” 4:15pm: “Want to meet at Hannigan's tonight? Just the two of us!?”

"What the everliving fuck?" My eyebrows rise at the completely obvious way that someone was poorly attempting to impersonate Namjoon.

"That's how Namjoon texts?" Luna sits back, "What a letdown."

"I don't think this is even Namjoon," I mutter and save the contact before swiping over to SnapChat. "Let's see if I have this person's Snap."

"Oh, your mind!" Luna exclaims, running to go grab a bag of pretzels from our tiny kitchen adjacent to our also tiny living room, "That is some top sleuthing right there."

"Why thank you, my good sir," I nod at her playfully before focusing back on my screen. Opening the 'Add Friends' tab, my eyes immediately hone in on the imposter.

"Oh, that little shit," I cry, chucking my phone onto the other end of the couch.

"What? Who is it?" Pretzel crumbs spew out of Luna's mouth as she ambles over to where I had just thrown my phone. She picks it up, turns it over, and lets out a long whistle. "Oh, fuck. What are you going to do?"

Luna hands my phone back to me, and I reopen the messages to respond.

Me 4:21pm: "Hi, Namjoon. I'll meet you there." 4:21pm: "9pm."

It'S mE! nAmJoOn! 4:22pm: “Yay! It's a date!” 4:22pm: “See you at 9!!!”

"Well," I lock my phone and set it down on the coffee table, "It looks I’ll finally get the chance to teach Kim Taehyung a lesson."

Luna springs up from the couch, "I'm calling Jenni. Let's do this."

Hannigan’s - 9:09pm

I'm nervous with anticipation.

Why?

Oh, that’s right – motherfucking Kim Taehyung thought he could pull one over me by impersonating Namjoon, and, so far, he's nowhere to be found.

I grasp my beer tightly as I slouch lower on my barstool. Since arriving about twenty minutes ago, I had set up camp in the corner of the bar. Luna and Jenni had immediately ditched me upon arrival, claiming that they were meeting friends.

I would have believed them if I hadn’t noticed that they just relocated to a table within vision of me and were scouring the room for any signs of Taehyung. I pull out my phone and once again debate texting him.

Fuck it. I'm just about to construct a text when my phone pings with messages from the group chat:

Bee Gang 9:10pm, Luna: “HE'S HERE” 9:10pm, Jenni: “HE LOOKS SOOOO GOOD KSKSKS” 9:11pm, Luna: “HOLY SHIT I THINK HE JUST SAW YOU” 9:11pm, Jenni: “TAEHYUNG IS LOOKING AT YOU LIKE YOU'RE THE HOTTEST THING HE'S EVER SEEN. HE'S GONNA FUCK YOUR SHIT UP I’D BET GOOD MONEY!!!” 9:11pm, Luna: “NAH DUDE *SHE* IS GONNA FUCK UP *HIS* SHIT” 9:12pm, Jenni: “OMG U RIGHT” 9:12pm, (y/n): “1) YOU BOTH SUCK AT HIDING, 2) NO ONE IS FUCKING ANYONE UP, 3) MAYBE THE SECOND THING IS A LIE”

I lock my phone and place it face down on the bar.

Looking up to see where Taehyung is, I immediately lock eyes on him. He's slowly making his way towards me with people constantly pausing him to chat. Taehyung’s all smiles, but I can tell he is a bit annoyed. That strikes me as odd – I thought he loved the attention?

The boy emerges free from the crowd, and I finally get to take him in.

Damn, he does look so good. His tight white t-shirt emphasizes his toned stomach while his overlying black leather jacket makes his shoulders look a mile wide. My gaze drops lower and take in his black pants with a black belt cinching the waist. I have to fight the urge to grab it and use it to pull him into me.

He’s almost to me when he turns his gaze to the bartender and flicks up two fingers. And just like that two beers and an annoying but hot-as-sin man appear in front of me.

“You don't look surprised to see me,” he says as his greeting, sliding me one of the new beers. He shoots a look at the group of boys occupying the stools next to me and they immediately make themselves scarce.

I arch an eyebrow, “You do realize I had all of your SnapChats to double check the number with, right?”

"God-fucking-damn," Taehyung plops down in the barstool next to mine, "No wonder it was so easy to convince Joon to let me do this." He shakes his head and glances up at me beneath his blue fringe, “You still came? Even though you knew it was me?”

I roll my eyes at his cute actions, "Yes, I figured you had something important to say if you went through all that to get me here."

He blinks, clearly still caught off guard that I wasn't surprised to see him. "I do," His voice cracks and he flushes deliciously, "I mean, yes, I have something to say."

"Okay," I nod and sip from my beer, "So, tell me."

His fingers fiddle with the label on his beer bottle as he begins, "I know I'm not your favorite person... I'm loud. I'm bratty. I know that. But I just have to know if you felt anything that night last semester; because, I did, and I can't stop thinking about it. I know that you probably haven't. It's been killing me to see you with everyone else that I love, and I just need to know if there's a chance you might want to be with me like that, too, and-"

I clamp a hand over his mouth. His eyes snap to mine.

"Baby," I sigh, "Is this what's been making you act out?"

Taehyung's head bobs as he nods swiftly.

"Now, that just won't do," I murmur, my mind whirring as I think of all the times I had thought he wanted to annoy me when all he really wanted was my attention.

"Listen," I continue, pulling my hand from his mouth, "I don't know where you got those ideas stuck in your head from, but they're wrong. I do think about that night last semester. All the fucking time, Tae. And, yes, you're loud, and you have a tendency to be a brat... But, it only makes me more interested."

Taehyung's eyes burn into mine as I lean closer, "It only makes me want to teach you some discipline."

I watch as Taehyung’s knuckles go white as he clenches his beer. Concerned that the glass might shatter in his grip and hurt him, I slowly place my hand over his, “Relax, baby.”

"You can't just say things like that, noona!" Taehyung moans, shifting in his seat.

"And why not?" I tease as he takes a long sip of his beer with his head tilted back and his throat muscles moving in a way that made me want to do bad things.

I blink, "You know what? Forget it. Let's just start over, okay?"

Taehyung bites his lip, “Okay, sure.” He gestures to the bartender for another round, “Let’s play a game.”

My response is automatic. “Alright, Jigsaw. What kind of game?”

“Just a nice harmless game of ‘Never Have I Ever’, (y/n). Nothing untoward, I promise.”

My eyes narrow at his way-too-innocent smile and his archaic use of ‘untoward’. “Fine,” I arch an eyebrow, “But I have a few stipulations.”

“I would be disappointed if you didn’t, noona,” he scoots his stool closer to me, “Lay ‘em on me.”

Oh, I will, my inner hoe responds.

Out loud, I reply, “The game can be stopped at any time, and you have to explain your answers if the other person asks.”

“Done,” he grins, “Never have I ever gotten my nipples pierced.”

“That’s targeting!” I exclaim indignantly, “You’ve seen them, you prick.”

“I haven't tasted them. At least, not yet,” his eyes squint at my boobs which are currently well-covered by a jean jacket. “Jungkook has… That fucker,” he mumbles under his breath.

These boys and their jealousy... I shake my head. How had they managed to stay in a relationship with all of this possessiveness they clearly had going on? It's truly a mystery.

"My turn," I grin, "Never have I ever dyed my hair blue."

"This is really more of a teal-ish green, noona!" Taehyung tries to argue, and I scoff.

"Fine," he relents and mumbles under his breath, "Should have brought my paint swatches." After taking a sip of his drink, he switches gears, “Never have I ever wanted to date a frat boy?”

I sip my drink. He immediately demands clarification. I grin, “Those EXO boys are fine.”

His jaw clenches. Ooh, he does not like that answer.

“EXO?” he snarls, "Over my dead body."

My eyebrow quirks up, “Well, that's a bit dramatic. They seem like nice boys.”

"Nice boys?" Taehyung cocks his head, "Noona, those aren't your type."

He's right. I push him further, “And what is my type then, Tae?”

“Boys that challenge you.”

He’s right again, but I’d rather not give him the satisfaction of knowing it. His ego is already inflated enough. I smile inwardly and say, “You think you have me all figured out, Kim.”

Taehyung surprises me as he breaks into a loud laugh, “No, not even close. But I’m a persistent boy so maybe I’ll get there one day.”

Just then I realize how close to one another we’ve gotten. Our sides are touching, and his hand has apparently been gripping my thigh for who knows how long. I stare at it, examining the adorning rings on his pointer and index fingers.

Are those fucking Gucci?

He must notice my gaze on his hand because he squeezes my thigh, and I smily at him. “I wouldn’t hold your breath.”

Taehyung looks at me like I’m something precious, something divine. I want to shatter that image. I want to ruin it. I want to ruin him.

“Taehyung?”

“Yes, noona?”

“Kiss me.” And he does.

Taehyung kisses me over and over. I’m honestly a bit overwhelmed it. His mouth is tender on mine, and with every exhale, he lets out the slightest moan, which almost seems like a plea for more.

He’s gentler than I remember. His mouth is warm and soft; his caresses are leisurely and unhurried.

I pull back slightly to look him in his eyes. They are dazed, unfocused.

My lips brush his ear as I whisper, “Be a good boy and meet me in the bathroom in two minutes.”

With that, I saunter away towards the back bathroom which usually tends to be cleaner due to its slightly hidden nature.

Knocking on the door, I strain my ears for any sign of a reply. Nothing. I enter the dim room and immediately catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror.

My hair is everywhere, and I immediately grab the hair-tie around my wrist.

I pause, a sinful idea coming to mind.

A knock sounds. “Noona?” A deep voice calls, and I open the door, grab Tae by the collar, and tug him inside.

“Noona, you’re feisty tonight I-” I cut him off with my mouth.

I don’t hesitate as my mouth consumes his and my body presses him against the wall. My tongue finds his as my hips grind into him. He whimpers, and it’s such a beautiful sound.

After feeling him throb through his clothes, the thought I had earlier returns.

Stepping back, I grab my hair-tie and tug my hair up into a ponytail. Taehyung whines as I slowly sink to my knees before him, “Jesus, fuck.”

“Is this okay?” I question, gazing up at the beautiful boy above me, “Do you want my mouth, baby?”

“Shit, yeah,” Taehyung wraps my ponytail in his hand and lightly pulls me closer.

Does he think he’s suddenly in charge?

I flick open his belt before tugging his pants down. His cock strains against his silky black boxers and I give into the temptation to suck on it through the fabric.

“F-fuck, please, noona,” the stuttered curse comes from above, and I smile.

I pull his boxers down, grasping his cock and stroking lightly.

And, without warning, I take the head of his cock in my mouth and suck. “Goddamn,” Tae hisses, fingers sliding into my hair. He pulls my hair-tie out and replaces its hold with his fist.

I take him as far as I can, blowing him and stroking the parts of his cock I can’t get to with my mouth.

“Shit, fuck, please,” he begs, looking down at me with wild eyes and a fucked out expression, “Don’t stop, (y/n).”

Stop? Never. The power trip is too delicious.

My mouth bobs on his cock as he bucks, trying to fuck my mouth. My hands grab his ass to control his movements as I slide my mouth off of him.

“Do you want to come in my mouth, baby?” I tilt my head to the side as one of my hands resumes its ministrations.

“Y-yes,” The boy gasps above me, his breath coming in pants, “Please, I’m so close, noona.”

“Hmm, are you going to be my good boy, Taehyung-ie?” My hand halts, and he whines, his hips straining to keep moving in my hand. I squeeze him, “Well?”

“Yes!” He moans, repeating, “I’m your good boy. I’m noona’s good boy.”

“That’s what I thought.” My mouth closes around his cock again and sucks him hard.

“Fuck.” I watch enraptured as Taehyung’s head falls back against the wall, and then he’s coming.

His body convulses above me as I swallow ever last bit of him. After he finishes, I pull my mouth away to kiss the underside of his cock, his balls, the insides of his thighs. Above me, he’s muttering my name like a prayer.

“You can let go of my hair now, Tae,” I laugh, my voice slightly hoarse. Reaching up, I lightly tug his hold from me and slide my discarded hair-tie off of his wrist. Standing, I pull my hair up into a messy bun and turn to face him.

He’s tugging his pants up and staring at me with a darkening expression, his nostrils flared. “Let me taste you, noona. Ride my face.” The tenor of his voice washes over me, tempting me with its rough words.

“You haven’t earned that yet.” I start towards the door, but Taehyung darts in front of it, effectively cutting me off.

“I just want to please you, babe. Come on,” his begging only solidifies my resolve.

“You already have pleased me, Tae,” I swipe a thumb across his cheek as he pouts.

“But I could please you even more with my mouth!”

This boy. I grab his neck lightly, “Listen, baby, I’m going to say this once. When I ride your face, you’ll be tied up across my bed at my mercy. Got it?”

His body becomes pliant under my words and my light grip. I gently shift him out of the way of the exit. “Now, I’m sure I’ll be seeing you soon, my good boy.”

The parting smile I send him is absolutely lethal, and it only grows bigger when I hear him blurt out a grumbled “holy fuck” as I strut away from him.

a/n: yeeeeeee things are really heating up *fans self* hope y’all liked it!! ALSO, s/o to tay aka @loveejoon for being featured UWU

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mshermia · 4 years ago

Text

FEBUWHUMP DAY 25 - CAR ACCIDENT

On a cold winter night on their way home after a dinner at the Stark's cabin, Peter, May and Happy get into an accident. Tony rushes to the scene to help, terrified that it might be too late.

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It's still Febuary *somewhere* in the world, right? Also, is there a penalty for starting too many WIPs? Asking for a friend...

AO3 Link

CW: (Minor) Characted Death

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Tony's heart was racing. It was beating so fast he'd had to silence FRIDAY's emergency alert twice, overriding the blaring alarm entirely the second time to just make her shut up. It was sheer panic that had his pulse spin out of control and there was nothing, nothing that FRIDAY's empty words and warnings would do about it.

The road was dark and winding, trees closely lining either side of him. Despite the snow and ice that hung heavy on the branches and had powdered the ground into what Morgan had described as a 'winter wonderland', the road was dry and clear. Just as well because Tony was driving as fast as he dared. Maybe a little faster than that.

It didn't matter that he was speeding. He was still not going fast enough to keep the horror scenarios at bay, the nagging fear that every attempt he made now would be too little, too late anyway. They might be dead already.

Tony pulled in a deep breath through his teeth that sounded too close to a sob even to his own ear. Desperate, he pressed down a bit further on the gas paddle but instead of going even faster, the car suddenly lost a significant amount of speed.

"What the fuck is happening?" His hand hit the steering wheel, his foot coming down harder on the accelerator. "FRIDAY, for fuck's sake--"

"Boss, we are only about three miles out from the last signal I received from Peter Parker's car. The heightened possibility of an active game path or hidden black ice that could have led to the accident increase the closer--"

"FRIDAY, override code two-double-seven Stark."

"Override denied."

Tony cursed, followed by a deep guttural groan. "I will fucking melt you down to your integral components if you don't do as I tell you right this second!"

"I'm afraid you cannot use your override code again for another 23 hours and 49 minutes."

"For fuck's sake, FRIDAY! Fucking get me there as fast as possible!"

He should have just taken a suit. He hadn't been thinking, had just reacted. His suits had been stored and locked away in the basement of the cabin for years. Three and a half years of retirement had changed his instincts more than he had realized and now, he was fucked for it.

It had been such a great day. Just that morning he had been out in the snow with Morgan. The older she got the harder a task it was to drag her out of the house for some fresh air with her old man, but as soon as he had her out the door in the snow, it was a joy.

Peter, May and Happy had arrived with cake in the afternoon and then stayed through dinner. The three of them had grown so close over the years. It had been hard work, no doubt. As much as the survivors had suffered after the Snap, the undoing of it came with its own struggles.

Tony should have made them stay the night. He should have just fucking made them!

The miles were crawling by and Tony's eyes flashed back and forth between the road ahead and the map where the GPS signal of the car was blinking red and rapidly, mocking him.

The location it indicated was right by the river. If the car had skidded off the street, if they had slipped into the water. The temperatures were way below freezing out there. If they had hit the water...

Tony's stomach turned as he was finally coming up to the scene of the accident. The forest opened up towards the river on his right side, but there was no car in sight. The road was empty.

Then he saw it, tire marks that ran off the lane. There was a bit of a bend in the road where the river was closest to the street barrier, but that barrier was gone now.

Panic rushing in Tony's ears, he pulled his car off the road into the snow on the other side of the street near the trees. His hands were shaking as he swung open the door.

"HELP! P-PLEASE..."

"Pete!"

The kid's voice was croaky and weak. Even without seeing him, it was abundantly clear that Peter was crying, bordering on hysterical. Still, it was better than the silence Tony had dreaded.

"Tony! Oh... oh god... please... Tony, please... I... I can't, I... oh god..."

Tears shot into his eyes at the desperation that swung in his kid's voice. Tony sprinted towards the sound. He had almost crossed the street when his feet were practically ripped from underneath him. As if in slow motion his arms were spinning like propellers trying to fight gravity. His only luck was that he had been rushing just enough to land on the ground next to the road instead of breaking his tailbone on the asphalt.

Black ice.

Tony didn't hold back. He cursed as loud and as strongly as the little breath he had left would allow him while he struggled back to his feet.

It was freezing out and idiot that he was, he hadn't even brought a jacket. Not that he felt the cold but with every curse he blew out, a cloud of white breath formed in front of his face. That was until his breath was gone entirely, robbed by the scene in front of him.

The car was in the water alright, halfway submerged under the cold waves right next to the shore. The only reason it hadn't been pushed out and even further under was Peter who stood on the far side of the car, water up to his chest, fighting against nature itself.

"Help," Peter cried, just as exhausted as desperate. "I can't... can't... much longer... Tony... please... please help them..."

Despite himself, Tony had frozen. He shouldn't freeze like that. He would never have frozen like that before. He was Iron Man after all. Had fought intergalactic battles and... and... now, at the disaster unfolding in front of him, he didn't even know where to begin.

"They're... in the back... Tony... please... plea—Urgh!"

The car moved another inch further into the river and the shock of it, the pitiful whine from Peter finally pushed Tony into action.

"I'm here, buddy! It'll... help's on the way, okay! Just... just hold on a little longer, Pete."

Tony's ripped the door to the backseat open easily enough, his eyes straight on the two unmoving figures slumped in their seats, belts still buckled tightly.

"I... I don't know what happened, I... oh god," Peter sobbed. "We... we were fine, we were—"

"It'll be alright, Pete! Just... just concentrate, okay? I'll... I'll be quick. I'll get them out!"

Happy legs were submerged entirely. There was a cut on his face, blood running down the side of it. He was pale, too pale.

"Hey, Hap... Happy, come on!" Tony shook him, then pulled Happy's face towards him. "Come on, now! Don't leave me hanging! Fucking... May? May, wake up, come on!"

Neither of them gave even a twitch as Tony reached across Happy into the icy water. The seat belt came off at once. There was no time to lose. Between the water and the limp body, Tony tried his best to heave Happy out of the car. His arms were straining under Happy's weight. The angle was awkward and difficult to pull at but every whimper from the kid holding this ship afloat spurred Tony on to be faster, to be better. So he did, just because he had to, adrenaline and panic giving him a boost.

He managed to maneuver Happy onto the ground next to the road. By instinct, Tony pressed his shaky fingers against Happy's neck, searching for a pulse but he felt nothing. His throat was so tight, he desperately gasped for air, eyes burning with fear. It was just his fingers. Had to be. His fingers were cold and numb and there was no point in even trying. Peter's voice tore him away from his friend, back into action. Peter was still begging for help, May still trapped in the car.

The water seemed to have risen further in the car. His legs were spasming from the cold, arms and hands numb and heavy as he waded through it, trying to get to May. Her head was bowed low, the water almost at her mouth. It wasn't until Tony had gotten this close to her that he saw the dent in her side of the car.

They hadn't just skidded clean off the road then but hit something along the way.

Tony held her by the shoulder, trying to keep her upright and out of the seat belt so he could unbuckle it. The hand on her shoulder came away stained dark. In the low light, he could only guess it was blood.

Through the window, Pete's face looked back at him, trembling lips stained dark likely turning blue from the cold. "Tony!"

"I'm right here, bud," Tony breathed, possibly too quiet.

"Are... are they alive?" Peter's words were mumbled, difficult to make out. They were running out of time.

"They'll both be fine, buddy, okay? Just... just hold on a little longer!" Tony slung his arms around May and crossed them over her chest. With short strong pulls, he moved her further and further towards the open door, towards the safety of the shore. "May, you have to wake up," he whispered, his own voice heavy with fear. "This... shit... you can't do this to him. Not like this. Not—"

He yelped as the car slid further into the water.

"I... I got it, I..." Peter winced and there was another jolt. "Tony... get her out! Get out! Get out!"

His own panic gave Tony wings. Another two pulls later and he had finally freed May from the car.

"I got her," Tony yelled in Peter's general direction. "Get out of the water, buddy. Careful now!"

By the time he had laid May down right next to Happy, Peter was rushing to his side.

"Are they okay? Tony, please... are they... oh, oh god, no, please, I—"

Tony turned fast. Both hands cradling Peter's face, he made him look right at him. "Everything will be fine, okay? Go to my car and get the first aid kit out of the trunk."

"But—"

"Listen to me!" Peter's eyes had already moved down to the lifeless forms of May and Happy again, but Tony gave his head one good shake, fighting to get his attention back. "Go to the car. Watch out for the ice. I need your help now, Pete!"

Eyes wide, Pete nodded. His tears were mixing with blood streaming down from the cuts on his face, leaving smudged dark lines all across it. He moved fast enough. That was a good sign. His clothes were soaked through, sticking to him as he rushed towards the car. Before Tony could warn him again, Peter slipped just like Tony had, just like the car had. He fell hard on his left side.

"Shit, you okay?" Tony's stomach turned at the sight of the kid, as he lay there for a moment, not getting back up. "Peter, are you—"

"M fine." A lot more carefully than before, he struggled back to his feet.

"Get the blankets, too!"

Tony knelt down between May and Happy, once again he pressed the index and middle finger of both his hands against either of their throats. The way his own heart was rushing, it would be a miracle if—

He gasped. There was a flutter, a sign of life on Happy. Tony had clearly felt it. There was hope then. This... they could make it out of this!

His eyes shifted to May but even by the time Peter had made it back, blankets and first aid kit in hand, Tony had no idea if May was even still with them.

Just in case, Tony started with compressions, desperate to be subtle about it but there was no way for Peter to miss what was happening.

"What... Tony? Tony, what are... are you doing? Wha—" The sob that had Pete stop mid-word hit Tony squarely where it hurt most.

"My fingers are really numb, kid, okay? I just... I'm not sure. It's... just as a precaution."

"She... she doesn't... oh god, she has no pulse, she has no—"

"Pete, listen to me." Tony's body was aching from the cold, from the adrenaline rush. From the loss that he might not be able to protect the kid from. "The paramedics will get here and then they'll warm them up, okay? Put that blanket around Happy and then get in my car. Get out of those wet clothes and turn on the heater."

"No," he mumbled. "No, no, I... please... this can't be... I can't—"

"Peter!" Tony was losing focus and with that the count on the compressions. "Blanket! Happy! Come on now! I need you, buddy."

The kid's wet sobs rang in Tony's ears, as Pete took one of the blankets and wrapped it around Happy. Before Tony could say anything else, he took the second blanket and wrapped that one around the lower half of May's body.

It felt like endless hours but couldn't have taken more than a couple more minutes until sirens and lights finally flashed up in the distance. Tony had to practically force Peter to stay back while they put first Happy then May onto stretchers and into the emergency vehicle. Just as quickly, Tony made Peter get into the car to follow the ambulance to the hospital.

Peter refused to take off the wet shirt but at least discarded his pants and wrapped himself in the blanket. The blanket that had been covering May just moments before. He used the corner of it to hide his face, leaning heavily against the door. Away from Tony.

"How are you feeling, bud?" It was a fucked up question, but he had to know what he was dealing with. Tony's eyes flickered back and forth between the street and Peter. "Are you hurt? Anything other than the cuts on your face?"

Peter's hand pushed the fabric of the blanket away at that, shaky fingers fumbling across his skin, looking for cuts.

"Stop that!" Tony reached out to him but jerked away at the icy coldness of Peter's hands. "Geezes, kid! Rub those together, okay? Warm them up! Put them on the seat!"

"I'm fine," he hissed, face turned back towards the window.

There was little Tony could do. He couldn't stop, couldn't take his eyes off the road either. All he had left was mumbling reassurances how everything would be okay. Lies, nothing more. Tony had no idea if any of this would ever be okay again.

They arrived at the hospital just after the ambulance. Peter didn't even wait for him to come to a full stop.

"Kid, just-- Fuck..." Tony rushed after him into the hospital.

The neon lights were blindingly bright, almost like spotlights on a stage. He felt uncomfortably exposed, his wet clothes still clinging to him. Peter had already made it to the reception, the blanket still wrapped around his waist. He... shit. He wasn't even wearing shoes. Tony wasn't sure if he had lost them in the water or had simply taken them off in the car along with his soaked pants.

Either way, his wide-eyed panic and torn-up look had already attracted hospital security. Peter's fist banging against the reception desk as he demanded to see his aunt, didn't help either.

"Hey... hey!" Tony had stormed after him just in time to push a tall guy in hospital uniform off his kid. "Take your hands off him and get a damn doctor!"

"Sir, this is a hospital, not a carnival," the security guard growled. "There are procedure and—"

"We came in alongside the ambulance, you clown!" Tony was pointing a finger squarely at the man's chest. "My son was in a car accident. He was in the river. I need a doctor!"

"No, I need to see my aunt!" Peter was panting. "My aunt was in the ambulance I need to—"

Tony grabbed him by his shoulder and forced the kid to turn towards him. "Pete, they—"

He froze, Peter's face looked so much worse under the light than it had in the dark of the road. His lips were blue, pupils fully blown despite the bright light and his skin was so pale, he looked un-dead. The bad kind. Tears and blood from the cuts on his face were smeared all over his face.

"Jeezes, kid! You..." Tony spun around towards the receptionist. "I need a fucking doctor! He was in the river 15, 20 minutes!"

Peter stepped up right next to Tony, both hands holding onto the desk. "I'm fine! I'm not even shaking! I just need to see my aunt!"

"You're hypothermic, Peter!" Tony's adrenaline spiked as high as it had back on the road when he had spotted Peter standing in the icy waves.

"Gentlemen, let's calm down." Finally, a doctor had walked up behind them. "What is the—" The man stopped midsentence as he took in Peter's face. "Come with me."

"No," Peter growled again. "I need to check on my aunt!"

The doctor wasn't much taller than Peter but he squared his shoulders and stepped up close into his space. He eyed him for a moment, his face hard. "What do you think your aunt will say if she wakes up and I will have to tell her that you died from hypothermic cardiac arrest, hm?"

Peter's mouth clapped shut at once. Fresh tears fell off his lashes.

"Doctor Gordon," the receptionist interrupted. "The patient's personal data needs—"

"Just give the man a damn form," the doctor barked at him as he grabbed a hold of Peter's upper arm and dragged him along.

With ease, Tony snatched the forms from the receptionist's hands and quickly followed the doctor to the closest treatment room. Inside, Doctor Gordon asked his name as he checked his pupils and lungs. Then he had Peter strip off the last of his wet clothes and wrapped him in a hospital gown. In quick progression people carried equipment into the room, starting with heated blankets that two nurses wrapped around him before they helped Peter to lie down on a padded stretcher.

One of the nurses fitted a breathing mask over Peter's mouth as Gordon leaned over him and carefully untangling one of Peter's arms from the blanket. "We'll use humidified oxygen to rewarm your airway. Additionally, we— ah, yes, thank you, Leslie." The nurse had carried in a bag of fluids that she fitted to the stand next to Peter. "It's a warmed saltwater solution to help warm your blood back up. Now, you'll start shivering soon, but that completely normal as your body warms back up. Your dad can stay with you, okay?"

"Okay," Peter mumbled through the masks, his eyes finding Tony's.

Two quick steps and Tony was right next to him, grabbing his hand just after the nurse had fitted the IV.

"And Leslie," the doctor called out to her. "Can you organize dry clothes and a heated blanket for Mr. Stark here as well, please."

Tony sucked in a breath before he turned towards Gordon. "Thank you."

"Why don't you take care of those forms, then we can get you an update on Peter's aunt?"

The forms balanced on the foot of Peter's bed, Tony quickly filled out all three of them - May, Happy and Peter - while nurse Leslie cleaned and taped up the cuts on Peter's face. The doctor hadn't been gone more than a couple of minutes. The nurse was still busy with Peter's face when the kid called out to him.

"Just... please... can you make sure they are fine? I just..." Peter swallowed hard, his eyes still wet. "I need to know that they... that they—"

"Alright, buddy." Tony squeezed his hand then as the nurse turned away to grab a pair of scissors, he stepped close and pressed his lips against the kid's cold forehead. "You stay right here, okay?"

With a quick glance to either side of the waiting room, Tony strode back towards the registration desk. There weren't many patients in, even fewer people waiting in the seated area for friends and relatives. Less stress for the staff meant fewer mistakes and Tony would not be able to live with any more mistakes tonight.

He slid the filled-out forms across the table towards the receptionist. "I need an update on May Parker and Harold Hogan."

The receptionist's eyebrows were pulled up high. "And your relation to Mrs. Parker and Mr. Hogan is?"

"She's my son's legal guardian," Tony bit out. "He's my brother."

He pursed his lips, shuffling through the documents. "The doctor will find you when—"

"No!" Tony's fist crashed against the wood of the desk. "I need an update right now!"

"Sir, you will get an update when we have an update to give, or do you want me to drag one of the doctors away from the treatment and—"

"Fine!" Tony pulled both of his hands up and took a step away from the desk lest he'd strangle that arrogant little prick.

Instead, he stalked away from the man and fished his phone out of his pocket. There were two text messages from Pepper. One from almost an hour ago.

'FRIDAY filled me in. Call me as soon as you know more.'

Then another one from 12 minutes ago.

'Tony, please call me. I'm worried.'

Without a second thought, he did. The phone rang for all but two seconds before Pepper answered him.

"Tony? What's going on?"

He pressed his eyes shut. Just the sound of her voice had him tear up. "Hey, Pep..."

"FRIDAY puts your car at Ellenville Regional. Is everyone okay?"

"I... erm..." One hand steadied himself against the wall. "Pete's hypothermic."

"Oh no," she gasped.

Tony's eyes stung. "The car skidded into the river." He ignored her next gasp and pushed on, his voice low. "He held the car up and May and Happy I... I pulled them out when I got there. I'm... I don't know... Happy had a pulse at the scene but May, she..." He stopped himself, unable to keep going.

Just the thought of what it would mean if the worst were to happen... if it were to happen like this. Peter would never forgive himself.

"Oh my god, honey... I... I'll pack some things and I'll meet you there. Morgan, I'll... I'll just have to bring her and—"

"No!" His voice came out sharper than he intended. "You stay where you are!"

"Honey, I can't leave you all on your—"

"There's black ice out there on the very road that leads here. I don't want you on the street tonight."

"I... okay..." She was crying now. "Just... just call me, okay? Call me as soon as you know more."

"I will, Pep. I will. Just..." Tony blew out a breath and shot a glance over his shoulder at the commotion coming from the reception desk. "I gotta go. I love you, honey. Give Morgan a kiss."

He didn't hear his response, his heart pounding like a steam engine in his ears. The doctor that had just turned away from the registration desk locked eye with him, her expression sober as she walked over to him.

"Mr. Stark?"

Tony's limbs were numb. Somehow he knew. The way the lady was looking at him. How she held herself. He knew what she was going to say but his brain wouldn't let him accept just standing there and taking it. It seemed to float away, anywhere but here to just not hear it.

"I think maybe we should go and see your son as well. He is in treatment room 3, yes? We can just have... I have some information that—"

"No!" His voice was composed, so much more than he felt capable of. "No, you... you should tell me. Tell me here."

"Mr. Stark..." Her eyebrows were raised in sympathy. She even reached out to him, a soft hand placed on his lower arm. "I think it might be easier if we're all in a room together, so I can—"

"No." This one sounded less sure though he felt a lot more certain than before. Yeah, it would be easier. She was right. It would be easier for him, but telling Peter. No, that was his job. Not his job, his responsibility. "Just tell me."

It was an out-of-body experience to hear her say it. To hear her say how sorry she was. How despite their best efforts... May was gone. Was dead. That was what she said. Dead. Not 'gone'. Not 'had passed on'. She was dead.

They said that was important. That the words you used had to be the right ones. That there couldn't be any confusion.

"Mr. Hogan is currently receiving hemodialysis to rewarm his blood. His vitals so far are holding steady. We are hopeful that he will make it through the night and then we will have to go from there."

Hopeful that he might make it through the night. Hopeful. May Parker was dead.

"Mr. Stark?"

His eyes shot over at the doctor, blinking. He hadn't realized he had looked away. "Right, I... I guess I will... will go. Talk... talk to my kid." He swallowed hard.

"If you would like me to, I could—"

"No, I... I need to do this. For him. It's..."

He shook his head and without another word, Tony made his legs move, surprised that they did. His mind was still not with him, still flowing around him, unwilling to come back to him. One hand on the door, the other on the doorknob, Tony paused. Memories flashed in front of his eyes. Doctors in white coats who stood in front of him, informing him of his parents' passing.

It wouldn't happen to Peter like that. He wouldn't allow it. No strangers, no detached condolences by faceless shadows.

Tony took another breath like it would make him ready to do this, when nothing would ever make him ready for this. Waiting... waiting just made it worse so he pushed the door open, relieved to find Peter alone, still on the bed hooked up to the IV and the humidified oxygen.

Doubts crashed down on him. Maybe he should wait. Wait until Peter was more stable, had recovered.

"Tony?" The kid's voice was muffled by the mask, questioning more than panicked until it wasn't. Wasn't not panicked. "Tony, what... what is..."

He closed the door behind him, still holding onto it like the words would magically come to him. Tony knew what to say, the main thing to say was clear, way too clear and sharp and brutal, but how to begin?

In the end, he didn't need a preamble. In the end, that face he so prided himself on having control of, said it all for him.

"N-no..." Peter's eyes widened. With every breath the kid took, they came faster and faster until he was panting, sitting up in his bed. "No... oh... oh god, no... no!" The IV on Peter's arm dislodged before Tony had even had a chance to get to him. Peter ripped off the mask just as fast.

"Buddy, I... I'm so sorry, she—"

"No, don't!" Peter grabbed both of his arms just as Tony tried to pull him close. "Don't say it! Don't... don't say it!"

But Tony had to. He had to because if he didn't, Peter would never accept it, never. "I'm so sorry, kid. She died, she–"

Peter struggled against him, pushing him but not hard enough to move him. "Oh god, no... please... I... no, you're wrong! You're wrong!"

"Pete, I'm so sorry—"

"You... you need to call Doctor Cho! You need... you need to call her and then at.. at the Compound, they can save her, please!" The panic in Peter's eyes was threatening to strangle him, both of them, his hands erratically tearing on Tony's green scrubs. "We should have gone there right away! The cradle, they... please, please, you need to save her, Tony, please."

"Oh, buddy..." His heart hurt with every beat from the bare pain that was radiating off Peter. "Cho can't do that. She... she can't bring people back."

"We need to try, please! Please just... just try, just ask her to try!"

In a twisted way, Tony almost welcomed the way Peter's hands kept hitting him, almost relished in the sting of it. "The doctors tried reanimating her, buddy, but they couldn't. She..." It wasn't enough. He was chickening out. He had to say it properly, had to be strong for his kid who was crumbling right under his fingers. "May died. There's... there's nothing we can do, bud. May is dead."

The pained howl Peter pushed out chilled him to the bones, so much worse than the icy water of the river had. With it, Peter's arms went slack and he slumped forward into Tony's waiting arms. All he could do was hold him, be there. It wasn't much, it wouldn't make this any better but there was nothing else for Tony to do. He couldn't conquer death. He couldn't take this pain away.

Tony rocked him, back and forth, forgoing all the empty phrases of how it was alright. How they would get through this. Phrases that meant nothing, never had. No, instead, he told Peter how much he loved him. He told him over and over again, mumbled it into his hair, told him with the slow circled he rubbed into his back, with the way he held him up, tightly pressed against his own chest.

The desperate sobs that shook his kid broke Tony piece by piece. None of this was alright.

-----

To be continued...

-----

Special thanks to @spagbol99 !

#iron dad and spider son #febuwhump2021 #febuwhump day 25 #irondad #iron dad fic #cw: character death #car accident #hurt/comfort #post-endgame #tony stark lives #peter parker #tony stark #fanfic #febuwhump #whump

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loversamongus · 4 years ago

Text

Coffee, Chills, and Closeness | modern!Zuko x reader

a/n: I was really happy with the way Friends, Fevers, and Family Movies came out so I decided to write a sequel to it in which you now have to take care of a sick, grumpy, little Zuko. I just really love good ol’ fluff.

warnings: characters sick with the flu; some language

words: 2.2k

After a few more days of bed rest and bowls of Katara’s special flu season homemade soup, you were starting to feel much better. The color reappeared in your face, the bounce returned to your step, and clarity chased out the dizziness in your head. Your best friends noticed your change in health and mood almost immediately.

“Must be my soup,” Katara said as you bounced past her in the kitchen to reach your cereal. You couldn’t help but question a knowing look in her eye. You raised an eyebrow in response.

“Or maybe just some good nights of sleep,” she continued. “You’ve had a smile plastered on your sleepy face for a couple nights now.”

“I’m gonna ignore the fact that you’ve been watching me sleep and eat my breakfast now, if you don’t mind.”

But what Katara said couldn’t be completely ignored, no. You don’t often remember your dreams, but recently you’ve been able to remember one recurring image that has appeared in your subconscious for the last few nights in a row. A certain shaggy haired, golden eyed someone kissing your forehead, just the remembrance of the sensation is enough to give you the chills again. Of course, there were cowboy dolls and astronaut action figures dancing in the background so the mushiness of the dream didn’t last too long.

It’s funny how the nostalgia of your childhood could wiggle its way into any dream, conversation, or movie night decision. You didn’t have a particularly cushy childhood but it was stable enough compared to your friends. While little you sat on the floor of your living room rewatching The Lion King for the umpteenth time, Sokka and Katara were mourning the loss of their mother, Aang was shouldering enormous responsibility that isolated him from his grammar school friends, Toph was being sheltered and completely restricted from most activities by her parents, and Zuko. Well Zuko hasn’t shared much about his childhood with you but the parts he did definitely weren’t filled with faith, trust, and pixie dust.

Your thoughtful reminiscing was quickly interrupted by Sokka barging through the front door, carrying three cups of Jasmine Dragon tea. While handing one cup to his sister and one cup to you, a devilish smirk grew on his face.

“You got your boyfriend sick.”

“My what?”

“You heard me. Iroh told me he came in for his shift all wheezing and hacking and snivelly and had to send him home. Sounds a lot like someone I know.”

“I- Sokka, Zuko isn’t my boyfriend. “

“Yeah, yeah, and I’m not the funniest, sexiest, strongest, most talented man on the planet.”

You heard Katara nearly choke on her orange juice and you reached to pat her on the back before grabbing your wallet and house keys.

“Okay well, I don’t have time to unpack all of that with you. I have to get to the diner.”

At this point, Sokka had already made his bowl of cereal and with a very full mouth, he seemed to be talking to his spoon more so than you. “That’s because you know it’s Zuko.”

“What?”

“I said tell Suki I love her!”

With a roll of your eyes, you headed out the door. For a few moments, you grumbled to yourself over the annoyance of Sokka’s teasing. But very quickly into your walk to the diner, a wave of guilt rushed over you. Zuko is sick with the flu. You knew you shouldn’t have snuggled up to him or cried on his shoulder while watching Toy Story 2!

“Okay but it’s not all my fault. He’s the one that kissed me on my feverish forehead. That was a mistake,” you mumbled to yourself.

Once at the diner, you headed to the workroom to get your apron but before starting the breakfast shift, you took out your phone to send a quick text.

hey heard you were sick :( how ya doing?

Not a minute goes by before you get a response.

Uncle exaggerates. I’m completely fine.

Letting out a sigh, you wonder how you could have met anyone as stubborn as you. The small smile forming on your lips is quickly erased by the sound of your manager calling for you to get on the floor. Your sick friend would have to wait.

The morning shift started out the same as it always had, and you were grateful for the routine after being out sick for the past week. A couple of the regulars welcomed you back with warm smiles and kind tips, while you still made sure to avoid small talk with some of the other diner patrons. Seriously, what was up with that cabbage obsessed man? The morning hours seemed to fly by with ease. Just as you were refilling a coffee pot, however, your calm routine was shattered when you noticed a very pale, black-haired man slouched over one of your tables.

“What are you doing here?” you whisper-yelled at him before passing his table to refill one of your other table’s coffee mugs.

“Getting some breakfast,” he whispered back, propping his droopy head up on his hand.

“Well it’s almost lunch now, you idiot.”

“Getting some brunch then.” A dopey smile appeared on his face but you could see in his eyes that he must not have slept well last night.

“Zuko,” you said, almost scolding. “You shouldn’t be here. You have the flu.”

“I do not. I’m just tired. Can I have some coffee, please?”

“If you’re just tired, why do you sound all congested?” you asked as you poured some coffee for him.

“Allergies,” he replied simply but unconvincingly.

“Oh my god, Zuko,” you began to raise your voice but immediately regretted it when you saw your friend raise his hands to his head. A migraine no doubt, the memory of those still fresh in your head from your own bout with the flu. Lowering your voice, you spoke to him again.

“Why did you come here when you’re sick?”

“It’s Tuesday. I always come in for breakfast on Tuesdays to see you.”

Goddamnit. After being out for a week, you completely lost track of what day it was. Also goddamnit again. Zuko really dragged himself out just to keep up this little ritual even though he looks AWFUL. Okay, not completely awful because somehow even when he’s sick, the way he looks at you could give you chills and suddenly you’re remembering that forehead kiss again and--

“Excuse me, miss? Can I get some more orange juice?”

“Yes, of course. One moment please,” you snap out of your thoughts and reply to your waiting tables.

Before going over to satisfy your customer’s request, however, you turn back to Zuko with a gentle smile. “I’ll bring you some toast and some fruit. I’m sure that’s all you’ll be able to keep down anyways.”

It didn’t take long for the kitchen to fill Zuko’s order and once it was complete, you headed back over to his direction. You had to stop right in your tracks for a moment though and take in the picture before you. In the booth sat a sleepy little Zuko still perched up on his hand but his eyes have fluttered shut. Noiselessly, you place down his plate of toast and fruit in front of him and gently nudge his shoulder to wake him up.

“Hey, sleepyhead. Eat as much as you can. I’ve got one more table to take care of before my shift ends. Then you can drive me home. If you can stay awake, that is.”

“Mmmmmm thanks,” he muttered into his hand.

You left him to pick at his food while you finished up with your last table. When you returned to Zuko about twenty minutes later, you jokingly congratulated him on eating half of his toast and a couple pieces of cantaloupe-- probably more than you had eaten when you had the flu yourself. As you started taking away his plate, you caught Zuko reaching into his pocket to take out his wallet. Knowing what little you actually served him, you stopped him before he could take out more bills than was necessary.

“No, stop. We talked about this. I don’t take tips from friends.”

“It’s only fair and it’s the right thing to do.”

“No. You took care of me when I was sick, that covers it fine.”

“How ‘bout another tip? You should wear your hair up more often. It looks nice like that.”

“Here’s one for you. You’re delirious. Give me your keys, I’m driving.”

With that, your shift was over and you were gathering your things to go home. Zuko did manage to put up a little bit of a fight over letting you drive but once you shot him your “I’m serious, mister” look, he finally gave in. It was a short drive back home but you couldn’t help but glance over at your passenger every now and again. It was rare to see Zuko in such a state as he is always the put-together one in the friend group. That wave of guilt rushes over you again since you were the one that got him sick in the first place.

“No, it was the forehead kiss. His own fault,” you mumble to yourself.

“What?”

“NOTHING. Uh, Katara still has some leftover soup. Why don’t you come up and have some? OH! And we can finish Toy Story 2 since someone didn’t let me finish it last time.”

“I’ll come for the soup but not for the movie.”

“ZUKO. I was cured by the nostalgic joy of my childhood, it can cure you, too!!”

“I don’t have any ‘nostalgic joy from my childhood’ in case you forgot. My mother left, my father scarred my face, and my sister hates me.”

Thankful you had come to a red light, you looked over to Zuko with concern. But he did not look back. His head was leaning on the window and with his arms folded, he avoided your gaze and continued to stare out the window.

“Well, all the more reason to finish the movie,” you tried to say lightheartedly, but the rest of the drive was silent.

Once you’ve reached the apartment, you ordered Zuko to make himself comfy on the couch while you threw some soup in the microwave. You spy a note on the kitchen counter from Katara explaining that she’s out to lunch with Aang and Sokka went to the gym with Suki. You smiled, happy that you could avoid good-natured sibling teasing for the time being. When the soup was ready, you turned to find Zuko sitting on the couch under a pile of blankets and holding the remote for the DVD player.

“I thought you didn’t want to finish the movie,” you questioned, handing him the bowl of soup.

“But you do.”

Your grinned ecstatically, quickly moving to sit next to him on the couch.

“You shouldn’t get too close. You’ll get sick again.”

“I’m immune now, it’s fine,” you said as you reached to share one of his blankets.

“I’m pretty sure that’s not how it works. At all,” he replied, but his protests ended there as the movie started back up.

As you were getting yourself comfortable on the couch, your arm grazed Zuko’s and your body shook, chilled from the cold skin. Zuko noticed immediately and looked over at you questioningly.

“What’s the matter?”

“Nothing, you’re just cold. Eat your soup, it’ll warm you up.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Um, I had to take those pills when you watched me so the least you can do is eat some soup.”

With a small smirk, Zuko obliged and ate a few spoonfuls of soup before laying back against the couch. You cuddled up closer to him, figuring if the soup doesn’t warm him up, you definitely could. Once you rested your head on his shoulder, his head gently tilted to rest on yours, a much familiar scene from the time you were sick. Although the roles have been reversed this time around, the warmth of happiness bursting through your chest from this closeness is unchanged. You felt his left arm wrap around you before settling at your waist, and you reach up with your right hand to hold onto his. Sure, Toy Story 2 isn’t a romantic movie by any means, but it makes you happy. Just like Zuko does.

The movie ends with Wheezy singing his rendition of “You’ve Got a Friend in Me” and you looked up at Zuko as if to say, “See? I told you Wheezy comes back. I love this part,” but he’s already asleep. It seems like you’ll never be able to get him to watch the whole movie, but you sighed contently anyways. Then, in a fit of sudden boldness, you sat up to inch closer to Zuko and kiss his cheek softly.

He stirred and looked at you through drowsy, half-closed eyes.

“That’s not fair,” he said. “I can’t kiss you back properly while I’m sick.”

You smiled and leaned in closer.

“I’ll settle for a forehead kiss for now.”

“Deal.” After giving to you what you asked for, he gazed admiringly at you for a few moments before falling back to sleep. You could have sworn he had a dopey grin on his face, too, and you wondered if this is what Katara saw on you the past few nights. You settle back against Zuko’s chest and let his breathing lull you to sleep. The two of you fell into such a deep sleep, while in each other’s arms, that not even the sound of Katara and Sokka double hi-fiving after spotting you both on the couch woke you up.

#zuko #zuko fic #atla #atla fic #zuko x reader #modern!zuko #I DID IT

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the-singlest-pringle · 3 years ago

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A Sweet Song

Prompt 5 of Surprise from this list: "You got this for me?"

It was not common knowledge that Billy played the violin.

Read it here on AO3.

It was not common knowledge that Billy played the violin. “Not common knowledge” meaning there were only four people that knew: Max, Neil, Old Lady Garcia, and his music teacher from California, Ms. Petrov. Neil was never meant to find out, but after word of Billy’s first (and last) performance got out, Neil smashed his violin, along with his left hand. It wasn’t long after that when Neil caught Billy with a boy. Neil lost his shit, nearly beating Billy to death, then he packed up the whole family in less than a week and moved them to the boondocks.

It was now April, meaning it was nearly his birthday and also that it would be six months since he last touched a violin. The first few months without his violin were the hardest. Billy swore that he was going through withdrawal. His hands yearned for the violin, fingers itching to play. He longed to wrap his fingers around the neck, to slide his bow across the strings, and carefully finger out some Paganini. Billy would drive to the quarry and listen to his stash of classical music. One time he actually broke down because of it. His heart ached for his violin as he cried out in mourning.

Now that it’s been six months, he’s had time to adjust. He still gets that itch when his emotions are high, but Harrington helps quell his hunger. In fact, dating Harrington had been the best thing to happen to Billy in a long time. He was kind, caring, and provided the support that Billy desperately needed yet woefully lacked. He took care of Billy when he was hospitalized because of Neil (again) and was there for him when Neil lost custody and Hopper took him in. Billy was convinced that he loved Harrington, which is why he decided to add Harrington to the list of people that knew his secret.

It was a normal night, the Party gathering at the Wheeler’s for another Dungeons and Dragons campaign, when Billy said (out of nowhere), “You know, I used to play the violin.”

He and Steve had gone upstairs to grab more snacks, so they were alone in the kitchen. Steve was already attempting to balance two boxes of cookies and three bags of chips in his arms when he heard Billy. He started to clumsily juggle and drop the snacks while stuttering out a surprised “What? Are you serious?”

Billy chuckled at Steve’s shock. “Yeah, I am. I even performed at Royce Hall back in Cali once.”

“Bee, that’s amazing!” Steve exclaims as he crouches down to collect the snacks. “How come I’m just finding out about this now?”

“Well, only five people know about it, including you. And I felt that since we’ve been together long enough, you deserve to know everything about me, which means knowing that I play the violin,” Billy explains before quickly correcting himself with a, “Well, used to play.”

“You don’t anymore?” Steve asked.

“Nah. My old man made me stop when he found out.” Billy flexes the fingers of his left hand as he says this. “I played for nearly ten years in secret. I would tell my dad I had clubs after school, but instead, I would go to the music room and play.” He clenches his hand as he continues. “When Neil found out, he took a hammer to my violin, then to my hand to make sure I would stop.”

Steve sighed at the mention of Neil, making his way across the kitchen to take Billy’s hands in his. “Your dad is a dick and I hate everything he put you through.” He pushes a lock of hair out of Billy’s face and tilts up his chin so that they’re making eye contact. “I am so glad that you’re out of that situation and that you don’t ever have to deal with Neil again. I love you so much, okay?” Steve plants a kiss on Billy’s forehead for emphasis before Billy pulls Steve closer and practically smashes their lips together.

Billy smiles into the kiss, whispering out, “I love you, too,” before they’re interrupted by a familiar shrill voice that causes them to pull apart.

“Ugh! You guys are so gross !” Max says from the kitchen entryway. She was the only member of The Party that knew about Steve and Billy. Max made it a thing to point out how gross their PDA was, which she named DAFM (Displays of Affection in Front of Max).

“Yeah, shitbird? Well, you stink,” Billy quips.

“I do not, booger face!” Max retaliates.

“Carrot top!”

“Stupidhead!”

“Half-pint!”

“Shortstop!”

Billy gasps dramatically and feigns offense. “I am not short!”

Max rolls her eyes at that. “Tell that to every guy we know!”

“I’m literally taller than Jonathan,” Billy defends.

“That doesn’t count!”

Steve just sits back and laughs at the two siblings quarreling before intervening when the volume reaches near screaming level. “Alright, alright. Break it up, you two. You’re both shorter than me and that’s all that matters. Now can we head back downstairs?”

“Ugh. Fine, ” Billy and Max say in unison. Max makes her way downstairs as Billy and Steve gather the snacks.

Billy steals a kiss from Steve before they head down the stairs, Billy announcing his presence with a “‘Sup, fuckers? What’d we miss?”, earning him a smack to the arm from Steve. They settle into the couch, a comfortable distance apart, as the rest of The Party continues playing DND.

The next time Billy playing the violin is mentioned is during Billy’s birthday party. It’s a pretty lively event considering Billy had next to no one just months ago. But now he has a family and friends, all of which have gathered to celebrate him. Just thinking about it makes him smile.

Billy is about halfway through opening gifts when he comes across a rather large box. It’s covered in sheet music wrapping paper with a bow on top. Curiously, he shakes the box, causing Harrington to say “Careful! It’s fragile,” revealing that it’s from him.

Knowing the size of the box, the wrapping paper, and the person who gave the gift, it doesn’t take long for Billy to piece together what it is.

“No… no way,” Billy says while frantically tearing the wrapping paper off the box. That earns him a chorus of people asking what it is and a smile from Harrington. “I swear to god, Harrington, if this is a joke…”

Billy slides the case out of the box, unzipping it then opening it slowly. He stares for a few seconds, not fully comprehending what he’s seeing. Staring back at him is a brand new violin. The rest of The Party is eager to see the contents of the case, but all Billy can focus on is the instrument in front of him.

“You got this for me?” Billy asks, still not believing what he’s seeing. Steve nods in assent.

Before Steve can register what’s happening, he’s pulled into a bone-crushing hug from Billy to everyone’s surprise. The Party’s confusion only multiplies when they see that a violin is what caused Billy to hug Harrington. When Billy pulls away, he looks like he’s so happy that he might cry. Steve is sure that he almost does.

“Thank you so much, Steve. I- I don’t even know what to say.” Billy is stumbling over his words, so overcome with emotions. Back in October, he was so sure that he would never touch a violin again, but now that he’s free from Neil, he can do whatever he wants. And what he wants right now more than anything is to play.

Billy slowly takes the violin out of the case. He puts the shoulder rest on the instrument and rosins the bow a bit. Billy looks up nervously at Steve, silently asking for assurance. Steve smiles at him and gestures to the center of the rug as if to say “go ahead”. Billy can feel all eyes on him when he stands up. He doesn’t even know if his fingers healed properly, but he doesn’t really care. He just wants to play. So he gets up into position, takes a breath, closes his eyes, and starts playing.

The whole Party is in awe as they watch. It’s clear that Billy puts every emotion into how he plays. His fingers dance gracefully across the neck of the violin while his right arm moves the bow fluidly across the strings. His tone is practically perfect. An untrained ear wouldn’t be able to tell that he hadn’t played in over six months.

When Billy finishes, the whole room is silent before Joyce starts clapping. Then everyone joins in, Max leading a standing ovation. Billy blushes, embarrassed by the attention, but smiles at the praise, happy people enjoy him playing just as much as he does. When everyone finishes clapping, Billy is bombarded with questions and praises.

“Oh my god, that was amazing!”

“Since when did you start playing the violin?”

“What song was that?”

“How come you never told anyone?”

“I can’t believe that Billy Hargrove just played violin in my living room!”

Billy laughs out several “thank you”s as he puts the violin away in its case. “I started playing when I was seven,” Billy starts to explain. “The piece I just played is called ‘Violin Concerto No. 3 in B minor, Op. 61’ by Camille Saint-Saëns, and I never told anyone because of Neil.” The Party didn’t know the details of his situation with Neil, but gossip spreads quickly in a small town, so they knew Neil lost custody for some reason.

“Sweetheart, you played beautifully,” Joyce praised.

“You really did,” Lucas agrees, which surprises Billy.

“Could you play something else?” Dustin asks, exciting a chorus of agreements.

Billy doesn’t know if anyone besides Ms. Petrov has asked him to play. He’s still getting over the shock of it all. But he agrees. So he takes out his violin again. His violin. And he plays for The Party. He plays all night long, playing Bach to Beethoven, and even some rock songs. He plays until his out-of-practice fingers cramp. He plays because he’s happy. Billy feels fulfilled as ever with his friends and family around him, with Steve by his side, and with a violin in his hand.

#stranger things #stranger things fic #billy hargrove #steve harrington #max mayfield #harringrove #harringrove fic

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gomustanggirl16 · 4 years ago

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Traitor Cat

Based off this random idea I have that’s a mix of my own two cats, Corona (no we named her after alcohol two years ago but it is a fitting name) and Tanqueray (gin we have a theme). So Tanq is more my cat, she likes cuddles, she likes to sit on my chest and be in my face and does know when I’m not okay and seems to take my anxiety away. Then there’s Corona, my moms cat, who well lets just say I call her a gargoyle because every morning she sits on the end of my moms bed like a gargoyle staring at her in the dark until she gets up.

So that got me thinking of Liho naturally and I had 15 minutes in an MRI machine (it’s fine I’m fine) to think clearly while ignoring the odd bagging against my back that reminded me of a child kicking the back of your seat on an airplane. So here we have Steve meeting Liho for the first time, this takes place right after TWS and this is also one of many forms of the idea and I’ve had wine so bare with me.

It had been long day, hell it had been a long year, Natasha lost her job, her antimony, her apartment, her parents apparently though that had been years ago, and now she was living in Avengers Tower because gaining her aliases back had been harder than ever before and she had started wondering if it was worth trying. But at least she had Liho, stubborn cat she was she’d missed her after leaving her with the Barton’s while she went Russia she’d found she missed the cat and Liho had seemed to miss her to, crying when she went to the farm to pick her up and see the family.

It was late almost midnight, she’d been tracking a shipment of S.H.I.E.L.D. contraband at the docks that led nowhere, yet. Natasha checked Liho’s bowl her dry food touched, but her wet food she’d asked Tony to put out untouched. That was highly unlike her, but she was still getting used to her new surrounds, now that she wasn’t allowed outside she was going a bit stir crazy, having come into her room the other day carrying one of Tony’s socks collapsing on the floor and proceeding to “kill” it like a mouse.

Natasha moved to her room, going through the motions as she got ready for bed collapsing into the oversized bed and abundant pillows Liho loved hiding in, slowly drifting off. Next time Natasha woke partially spreading her legs only to pause realizing Liho wasn’t at her usual spot at the end of the bed. She looked at the clock to see it was almost 2:30am and felt a slight panic pulse through her. Liho always came to bed. Even when Natasha didn’t want her to she’d sit outside the door and scratch and meow until she was let it, but there her door stood ajar and no Liho.

“Liho?” Natasha called out, nothing.

“Liho?” Natasha tried again getting out of bed and going to her door.

She went through the penthouse calling Liho but nothing. No reply. Oh no, Tony had been shocked learning she had a cat, and even more so when she’d asked him to feed her. He owed her that, but he wasn’t used to owning pets let alone Liho who tried escaping out the door every time it opened. oh no.

“J.A.R.V.I.S. are you able to track Liho’s movements?” Natasha asked trying not to think about all the possible ways Liho could be trapped or hurt or...

“Yes, reviewing the Tower’s surveillance it seems she got out when Mr. Stark fed her this evening and made her way into Captain Rogers quarters.”

Oh god...Steve had just gotten back from Spain tracking Bucky. They made plans to have breakfast later this morning. She needed to get Liho back upstairs before she gave poor Steve a heart attack. She quickly made her way out to the elevator and punched the button for Steve’s floor. Just like she knew he would his front door was unlocked, and she quietly made her way into the living room.

“Liho!!” Natasha whispered looking through the space for black ball of fur while trying not to wake the soldier. She went room by room until she reached Steve’s bedroom and her stomach knotted, knowing her cat this would be it, it’s door was cracked and she peaked in.

Sure enough there she was curled up at the end of Steve’s bed sound asleep.

“Traitor.” Liho stirred yawning and stretching with a little meow. “shh, come on.”

Instead of Liho following her Liho made her way further up the bed towards Steve’s sleeping form. Don’t you dare. Natasha moved quickly around the bed quickly snatching up the cat as she was about to climb up onto Steve’s chest. She was about to make it out the door before her foot snagged sending searing pain through her foot and her to the floor.

“F***”

“What the Hell?” Natasha looked up and turned on her back to see Steve rubbing his eyes as he looked down at where she was on the floor.

“Natasha? Are you okay?” He got up realizing what had happened, helping her up off the floor.

“I’m fine, you know you should really keep that thing on the wall or between your night stand and your bed.” She said looking at his shield now laying in the middle of the floor.

“Yeah, wouldn’t want people tripping over it in the middle of the night who weren’t already here when I went to bed. Speaking of, what are you doing in my room?”

Natasha hesitated, her eyes traying just a bit down his bare torso to where his sweats hung low on his hips-

“Nat?”

“Right-shit where’d she go?” Natasha looked around realizing Liho was gone again. She had to be around here somewhere though.

“Where’d who go? Nat are you sure you’re okay? Even for you this is a little strange.” She frowned getting back on the floor to look under his bed.

“Liho!” She hissed but the only thing there was a duffle bag. “You got any lunch meat? Ham preferably. She doesn’t like cold chicken.”

“There’s a sandwich in the fridge...” Steve replied now more confused than ever. I mean he did wake up to her in her pajamas tripping as she tried to make her escape from his bed room.

She made it to the fridge her foot still stung but she pushed it away as she opened his fridge.

“Nat why don’t you sit down let me take a look at your foot.” Steve tried to insist as he came out putting on a zip up.

She found the remaining hoggie in the fridge and sat down on the stool at the island as Steve went through the freezer for an ice pack,

“Liho, momma’s got ham!” She heard Liho’s distinct chirp before the cat jumped sliding across the counter to get her treat.

She watched Steve jump looking back in the direction Liho had come from then to Liho her self as she tore the thin slices of ham up into smaller bites for Liho. Poor thing was starving.

“Where-whose cat is this?” Steve asked dumbfounded as Liho devoured the ham from his sandwich.

“Steve meet Liho, my traitor cat.” Liho slept with no one not even the Barton kids but her and she was incredibly picky, yet here she was, cozy as could be with Steve.

“Why were you and Liho in my bedroom?” Steve asked again as Liho went over to him head butting his stomach to get him to pet her.

“Because I asked Tony to put some wet food out for her while I was working and he let her get out. I told him she’s sneaky and can’t be trusted, but she still got out. I didn’t noticed until half an hour ago when I woke up and she wasn’t in bed. J.A.R.V.I.S. was the one who told me she’d made it in here. Not sure how long but I found her sleeping on your bed with you and not me.”

Liho seemed completely un-phased as she started purring as Steve paid her attention.

“Probably should have realized there was something in my bed, but Sam and I spent the last three days wide awake and I crashed.” He did look tired really tired.

“I know, I’m sorry I woke you, but she was about to use you as a bed and she likes to lay across your neck until you can’t breathe.” He frowned looking at the cat that was now propping herself up on his chest trying to paw at his face to get his attention back on her.

“So it’s true what they say, pets are their owners.”

“I resent that, I don’t own her, we live together.” Had for two years now.

“That why you refer to yourself as her mother?”

“Oh so you’re cheeky when your half asleep huh?” Truth was it was Clint who started that and it just snuck into her vocabulary.

“So you say. How come I never knew you had a cat?”

“There was no reason to tell you.”

“How did you manage that you were gone so much?”

“Oh Nick would watch her for me.” Steve raised an eyebrow at that and she laughed, “Don’t tell him I told you, but he is quite the cat person, has one himself, used to follow him around hang out at S.H.I.E.L.D. but she passed away a few years ago, so you wouldn’t have seen her.”

“Well alright then. Say what does Liho mean? It’s Russian but I don’t think I’ve heard it.”

“The embodiment of evil fate and misfortune.”

“That’s a terrible name for a cat.”

“Its supposed to be ironic, she’s been everything but for me. I can shut everyone out, but she still wiggles her way in. There are days where I can’t get out of bed, and if I have nowhere to be, I had no reason to, but she won’t let me. She cries and won’t leave me be until I get up, even runs to the shower because she likes to play with the water left in the tub and if I turn it on, I’m not going to waste water. Granted most people think that’s just her hungry and wanting to make a mess, but she’s been my reason for getting up now more than ever. God I felt so scared when I realized she was gone, and a little betrayed. I’m sorry I have no idea why I just told you all of that.”

She looked away from him then playing with Liho’s tail to get her attention.

“You know if I stop looking for him-for Bucky I sometimes think I might go insane. Nat we just destroyed the one infrastructure we had...animals know this.”

“Yeah they do. Last time I leave her with Tony.”

Steve laughed a little shaking his head.

“Not to speak i’ll of the man currently housing us for free, but he can barely feed himself Nat.”

“Yeah, I mean he did what I asked, he just underestimated her willingness to go outside.” Steve smiled at her giving Liho one last pet.

“So, we still on for Breakfast? I know it’s three am now, but I don’t know about you but I’m not going back to sleep.”

“I could go for something to eat, let me cook, I was going to already, but now I think I really should since I woke you up by breaking into your bedroom.”

“Sounds good to me. Come on Liho,” Steve picked her up and Liho settled into his arms like a ragdoll.

Natasha would later recall that as the night she started to fall for him, the way Liho reacted to him, like she was telling her Steve was it, he was the one.

#romanogers #mg writes #steve rogers #natasha romanoff #liho the cat

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