#I’m the only option it’s just me and my cartoons and I never shut up about them!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

shurisneakers · 4 years ago

Text

harmless (iv)

Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader, drabble series)

Warnings: cursing, guns, mention of war, frustrated bucky, dramatic reader

Word count: 1.5k

A/N: good evening i’ve never been to any of the places i mention in this series so dont come @ me

if you have any ideas for future inventions/evil plans, lemme know! i might actually end up using them

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Series Masterlist

He spends the weekend doing nothing. It’s supposed to be relaxing. He finds it nauseatingly boring.

“No mini mission this week?” Steve asks him from across the couch.

They’re supposed to be catching up on Star Wars but two prequels in and Bucky could feel himself lose his sanity. Anyone could present him with a random assortment of alphabets, call it a Star Wars species and he would have no reason not to believe them.

It’s not like he doesn’t like space. It’s just that he’s had enough of it and everything and everyone who came from it for the foreseeable future.

“No. Someone else is taking care of it.”

“Didn’t you volunteer for this?”

“I pulled myself out of the case.”

“I thought you were having fun.”

Bucky’s head slowly turns to look at him. “Why would you think that?”

“I don’t know,” Steve shrugged. “Looked like you were.”

Well, he wasn’t. He likes it here at home, glued to the TV. Popcorn beside him, sweatpants on. Refreshing, calming, slow, mundane, and Jesus Christ, so fucking boring-

His spiralling is interrupted by the dinging of the elevator to the common floor. No one was allowed up there unless it was extremely urgent. Guests were barely allowed into the Tower as it was.

It reveals the receptionist from downstairs, Marie. She’s always a little reserved, a little shy. But Bucky had seen her chew and spit out trespassers or anyone who dared to get on her nerve. He adores her.

“Hey, Marie,” Steve says while Bucky sends her a friendly wave in greeting. “What’s wrong?”

“There’s a hostage situation downtown,” she informs them.

“Okay...” Steve drawls, waiting for a reason why this was an Avengers level threat.

“They’ve asked for Mr. Barnes by name.” She makes a mention towards him.

Bucky sits up straight. Bits of popcorn fall off his chest.

“What?”

“They said, and I quote-” she looks down at her notepad. “‘Tell that grumpy motherfucker that I’m waiting for him and that he’s not getting out of this so easily because we have come too far.’ End quote. They’ve also told me to include a kissing emoji. And a skull.”

Steve and he look at each other.

“Well?” Steve prods.

Bucky sighs and gets up to go get ready.

The entrance of Chuck E. Cheese is more crowded than he’d ever seen. He wasn’t even sure he’d seen people in the store before. If there were, they probably only came up till his waist.

There are a few journalists, a few policemen standing together outside. Whispers of confusion and curiosity reigned free.

Bucky gently pushes his way to the front. He gets a nod from a police officer who opens the door for him after a quick briefing.

The place is darker than it usually would be. A trademark, it seemed. The blinds are drawn shut and most of the light is coming through whatever sneaks in through the crack.

“Hey, Barnes.” Your voice is muffled by a mask that looks suspiciously like it was made out of classroom craft supplies.

There’s a person in a loose chokehold in your hand with a gun pressed against his head. Once again it looks straight out of a cartoon, purple with round disks lining its barrel.

“What’s all this now?” He gestures around monotonously.

“A hostage situation. Didn’t you get the memo?”

“Got that part down, genius,” he bites back. “But why?”

“Fucker kept harassing me when I was walkin’ down the street.”

The guy’s helpless gaze met Bucky.

“Catcalling me, stalking me.” You tighten the grip you have on him. “Call me darlin’ one more time, you son of a bitch. I dare you.”

He wasn’t impressed with his pleading eyes. He kinda felt like he deserved it.

“Why’d you do it here?” The bright colours were starting to give him a heading. “And where are the staff?”

“It’s symbolic, Bucky,” you emphasise, “He deserves to be among other rat bastards.”

Of course.

“The staff?” he asks again.

“Gave them thirty bucks and told them to leave. I’m not a monster.”

“Right.” He doesn’t bother refuting you. “Why’d you call me here?”

“Dunno.” You shrug. “Thought it’d be fun. You having fun yet?”

You shake the guy you’re holding. He gives a small whimper.

Bucky doesn’t want to stop you. He had chugged enough Respect Juice in his lifetime to know that this guy probably deserved a threat or two.

Hell, he’d even help but you were more than capable of handling this on your own.

“Listen,” he sighed. “As much as I’m sure he deserves it, this is technically illegal and I’m required to stop you.”

“Sorry sarge, I thought you weren’t interested in playing this stupid game with me,” you mock, voice dropping to imitate him.

“I’m not.” It wasn’t entirely true. One Saturday with Jar Jar Binks had convinced him otherwise.

“Okay, so before you leave, do me a favour and call Hawkeye. I hear he looks mighty fine when he’s annoyed.”

His face involuntarily scrunched up. You were going to replace him with Clint? Clint?

He probably took it more as an insult than he should have.

“I’m not doing that.” Bless his foul mouthed friend, but he was a little shit who was too sarcastic for his own good. At least twice a week he’d say something stupid to Bucky and then take out his hearing aids when he tried to argue back.

“You’re leavin’ me with no options here,” you groaned, using your thumb to flip a switch. The gun looks like it powered up, lights along the side turning red.

If he let you have this, it’d be a bad look for the Avengers.

New York man dies in Chuck E. Cheese lone hostage situation, unable to be saved by same superhero who tried to fight Thanos with a machine gun.

“Tell ya what,” he says instead, “If you kill him, there won’t even be a slight chance that you’ll see me again.”

Your grip on the gun falters.

“If I let him go...”

“I might consider coming back next week.” He’s trying to spin it, make it look like he’s the one with the upper hand here. “But you gotta let him go.”

You search his face for any signs of dishonesty.

“Let him go or you’ll never see me again.” It sounds too much like Clint’s arguments with his dog who brought a live squirrel into the house.

“Fine,” you relent, a glint in your eye. “but say goodbye to this fuckface.”

Before Bucky can open his mouth to shout in protest, you pull the trigger. The man clenches his eyes shut, face red.

He expects blood to be splatter across his face.

Nothing happens.

A barrage of bubbles floats into the room.

“I meant it literally,” you say, pushing him off you. “Say goodbye. He’s leaving.”

The man stumbles to the ground and Bucky doesn’t make any attempt to catch him. He scrambles to his knees, picking himself up and scurrying out the door to a hoard of reporters.

The door shuts behind him with the chime of a bell.

“You’re annoying,” Bucky states, giving a small sigh.

“I’m well aware of that.” You pull off the mask, wiping the sweat off your brow.

“Where is the agent assigned to your case?”

“Dunno. Last I saw he was crying on the driveway of my lair. I just figured he’d pick himself up later so I left him there.”

Bucky’s nose twitches.

“You weren’t actually going to kill him, were you.” He shrugs with his shoulder towards the door. It wasn’t a question, more a statement. He knew you wouldn’t.

“I could have.”

“But you weren’t going to,” he repeats.

“No,” you admit. “I wasn’t. But I’m glad to see you showed up.”

“You held someone hostage as leverage.”

“No, no. I held someone hostage and then asked to see you. They were completely unrelated.”

“You’re evil.”

“You jumped to conclusions,” you point out. “Would you like a trampoline next time? Maybe a pogo stick, you clown?”

He has a very real gun in his holster. His very real metal death arm aches to use it.

“No one else agreed to come,” he deflects.

“We both know that’s a lie. You were going to come back anyway.” You stuff the bubble gun back into the bag. “I’m deliciously irresistible.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Then beg.” You give him a smirk and he rolls his eyes. “Don’t worry, you win this round, sarge.”

He doesn’t say anything. He watches you remove your heist gear, revealing normal civilian clothes underneath.

You walk casually to the kitchen, intending to leave through the back door.

“But I can’t say I lost either.” You send him a wink before swiftly pushing open the door and leaving him behind.

He only watches you leave.

It doesn’t hit him until a few seconds later that he let a criminal out of his hands when there were several policemen and journalists outside.

He entertains the idea of chasing you down and handing you over.

It takes him only a few seconds to decide that if they wanted you, they’d have to try themselves.

Next part

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #mcu fic #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky angst #bucky barnes angst #harmless fic #winter soldier x reader #Winter Soldier #bucky barnes #bucky

981 notes · View notes

midgardianweasley · 3 years ago

Text

Build-a-bear adventures

Build-a-bear adventures.

Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: A top trained assassin, her girlfriend, and a build-a-bear workshop, what better way to spend a day off.

Word count: 2.1k

Warnings: Agonisingly fluffy.

I was planning on posting angst, but, decided on a fluff instead<33

“But babe. Babe. Babe.” You poked your girlfriend, fully aware that with every prod, you were only contributing to the headache worthy eye rolls she had been giving you for the past hour. You were joking, of course you were, she knew that, but she also knew that it was possible you were about to be single in 0.2 of a second if you didn’t stop poking her.

With a sarcastic smile and a deep breath, she turned her head towards you, momentarily stopping your movements as you returned a sickeningly sweet smile back.

“Yes?”

“I don’t think you understand.”

“I do understand.”

“This is life or death.” You spoke with a poker face, a weak attempt to try and make your point valid.

“I think that may be exaggerating just a little bit honey.” She chuckled lightly at your tone and the way you moved in your spot on the sofa, now having your legs crossed in front of you, hands enthusiastically moving in front of you.

“No. No, see, you don’t understand! We need to do this!”

“Is my unconditional love not enough?”

“No.”

“Ouch.” She dramatically placed her hand on her chest, a smirk plastered onto her face as she watched you rile yourself up with every sentence.

“Okay, sorry, I didn’t mean that, your unconditional love is more than enough, and while I unconditionally love you too, that doesn’t change the fact that this is a necessity.”

“Like the ones from the jungle book?”

You groaned loudly, throwing your head back as the assassin teased you.

“Baby, please!” You moved once again, now clambering onto her lap with your hands interlocked behind her neck, your faces mere inches away from hers. Her hands immediately went to your waist to steady you, pure energy coursed through your veins as you tried to convince Natasha to go ahead with your idea and she wasn’t certain you wouldn’t fall off of you if she didn’t hold you down.

“You seriously want to?”

“Yes.”

“Today?”

“Yes.”

“Instead of cuddling in bed with movies?” Her eyebrows raised in question, not faltering as she watched you pretend to ponder, stroking an imaginary beard on your chin.

“Yes.” You smiled, your inner child shining through.

Knowing she wasn’t going to win, she sighed gently, running a hand through your hair and giving you a quick kiss on your temple before tapping your thighs to signal for you to stand up.

“Alright. Get ready and we’ll go.”

“Really?” You squealed, clapping your hands together as you rocked back and forth on your heels.

“Really. Now hurry and get your shoes on, we don’t want to get stuck in traffic.”

She watched with nothing but adoration as you whizzed off to get ready to leave, swearing that she’s never seen you move so quickly in her life. Despite her playful protest, she walked over to the kitchen counter to pick up her car keys, swinging them around her pointer finger as she walked over to the doorway of the compound living room.

‘I can’t believe I'm doing this.’ She thought.

Although she’ll deny it to anyone that asks, she’s absolutely whipped for you.

“I’m ready!” Your voice called out, encouraging Natasha to shrug her leather jacket on and walk towards her smiling girlfriend, taking her hand as they walked out together with content smiles on their faces.

‘Let’s do this.’

_______________________

It didn’t take long to arrive at your destination, your eyes immediately drew themselves to the store windows filled with stuffed bears in a variety of different outfits, some bears were dressed up to fit a theme, some bears were characters from loved movies, some were just bears in dungarees.

That’s right. You’ve managed to bring a trained assassin to a build-a-bear workshop. Why?

To get matching bears.

You looked towards Natasha, a huge grin on your face, only faltering slightly as you were met with her hands and forehead on the drivers wheel. You tugged on her sleeve, ignoring her disagreement, her head not leaving the wheel, but turned to face you.

“Stop being silly, c’mon, you’re looking forward to it! I know you are!”

“Babe. We’re parked outside of a teddy store.”

“Exactly! It’s fun, you’re excited, I'm excited, let’s go!”

You didn’t hesitate to open your car door, jumping out of the car and shutting the door behind you, the redhead not far behind you as she once again took your hand, reminding you how lucky you are that she loves you. Your response was a simple kiss on her cheek, a small blush following shortly afterwards.

“You’re cute.” You pinched her cheek.

“Yeah yeah, let’s go get our bears.”

_______________________

“So, that’s both of your bears stuffed, do you guys want to put voice boxes in them?” The kind staff member asked the pair of you.

You glanced towards Natasha, silently asking if she’d like one or not. She gave you a brief smile before looking back at the woman helping you with your bears.

“Sure, I don’t see why not.” She winked at you before following the woman over to another station within the store. There were rows and rows of different shapes and coloured voice boxes to choose from.

You had the option of choosing a pre-recorded sound, like animal sounds or a bunch of different ‘i love you.’ in different voices. You didn’t mind what voice you had, honestly, you would’ve been content with an ‘i love you’ from Elsa at this point. However, you saw your girlfriend make a beeline for the ones that you record your own message into.

“You’re gonna do your own one?” You asked, moving over to stand beside her.

“Nope. I’m making one for yours.” She said proudly, holding two of the small items in her hand, holding it out for you to take one. You couldn’t help but feel your heartbeat quicken at her words. This is the sweetest thing you’ve ever done with someone else, and to think she wasn’t even that eager to come in the first place. You knew she’d have fun.

Taking the small blue speaker from her hand, you were instructed to press the button on the back of the plastic, hold it down to speak, and release it when you were finished, but it can only be a short message. The both of you tucked your bears under your arm, bringing the box to your mouth and cupping it so that it would come out loud and clear, and so the other couldn’t hear what you were saying.

Once your messages were done, you handed each other the speaker to place in the paw that had a ‘press me’ sign sewed into it. The woman ensured it was inserted correctly before taking them elsewhere to be sewn up, leaving you both to look at the racks of tiny clothes hung on the wall.

It was almost as difficult as choosing clothes for yourself, there were too many options, and every single one was adorable. How did literal children do this?

“Please tell me you can’t decide on an outfit either.” The Russian spoke from beside you, her gaze focused on the fabrics, styles and patterns in front of you.

“It’s easier trying to take a pop tart off of the demi-god at home than trying to pick a pair of jeans and a t-shirt for a stuffed animal. What the hell?” Your arms gestured to the wall in front of you, exasperated as you tried to decide whether you wanted the blue jeans or black.”

“Hi guys, here are your bears, just letting you know, there’s also some dresses over there if you want to check them out.” The woman smiled, watching as you and Natasha shared a glance of horror.

The two of you were gonna be here for a while.

______________________

Finally, you and Nat had dressed both your bears. You chose a pair of black jeans, a white t-shirt and a black leather jacket for yours, and Natasha had chosen a Y/F/O. It appeared as though each of you had made ‘mini me’s’ of the other, and they seemed pretty damn accurate too.

After successfully creating and dressing your bears, it was time to name them, pay, and then you could both go home and relax. You had no idea building a bear could be so exhausting.

Both you and Natasha had to pick a name. You thought it over, whereas Nat had just rushed right in, choosing to call her bear ‘honey.’, the nickname she always reserved for you. Gripping your bear tightly, you observed the birth certificate being printed out, the name, the owner’s name and the date clearly written in bold, black letters. You could’ve sworn you saw Natasha’s eyes light up when she was handed the sheet of paper.

“What about you, miss?” The woman asked, ready to type in whatever name you gave her. Glancing behind you quickly, you caught the eye of your girlfriend behind you, immediately knowing what to call it.

“Snoopy, please.”

You heard one loud and short laugh erupt from Natasha’s lips, her hand shot to cover her mouth, not intending to be so disruptive when she heard what you had called it.

‘Snoopy’ is the name of a cartoon character, which was probably what people would think you named the bear after. In reality, it wasn’t that at all.

When you first met the team, you were informed of what everyone’s roles were and how they contributed to the group. There were supersoldiers, scientists, a god, all different kinds of people, including the incredibly attractive spy. When you went on your first mission, she had to hack into a computer to retrieve some stolen data, but took her time to also look at some other things they had on there too, just to kill time.

The first words you said to her on that mission that wasn’t to do with what direction you were running in, was ‘Alright, hold off Snoopy, you can do that in your spare time, hurry up.’, and at first she was annoyed with the nickname, claiming she wasn’t snooping, nor does she ever ‘snoop’, but she soon took it in her stride. It was still a running joke between the pair of you 2 years down the line, and you never let her forget it.

“Nice name, babe.” She coughed, unable to fully settle down from her laughing fit.

“Why, thank you! Yours isn’t so bad yourself.” You spoke as you blew her a kiss that she grabbed in thin air and pretended to shove into her jean pocket, earning a small shake of the head before you took your printed certificate and went to purchase the bears.

_______________________

Once you got back to the compound, the both of you were completely shattered, unable to keep your eyes open to watch some TV before bed. Eager to get some sleep, the two of you just ended up changing into your pyjamas, following your shared night routine before collapsing onto your bed.

You lay beside her, still able to smell her perfume after so many hours, the scent making your eyelids feel like rocks. Grabbing your bear, you put it in between you, Natasha doing the same thing, before snuggling up close together under the covers. She reached over to put some fallen hair behind your ear, smiling gently at you as she did so, the gesture lazily returned.

“Thank you for suggesting today, baby. I really enjoyed myself.” She whispered, a murmur of agreement following her words.

“Thank you for taking us Natty, I had fun.” You mumbled with closed eyes, sleep quickly taking over.

“Get some sleep, my love.”

You nodded once before responding. “G’night Nat.”

“Goodnight baby.”

And that was you, out like a light.

Natasha reached over to give you a kiss on the forehead as her final goodnight, not realised that she’d leant on the teddy in the process, only noticing when she heard your voice in a non sleepy state.

“I’m madly in love with you, Romanoff.” She heard you laugh, followed by an excited “I’m done!”, obviously you forgot to let go of the button after you recorded the initial message, but it had made it even more special. She couldn’t help but adore you with every bone in her body.

You weren’t awake now, but when you were, she hoped to see your reaction when you listened to her message in your bear, the words spoken in Russian, but you’d heard them before, so you’d definitely know what it meant.

“Moye serdtse tvoye, lyubov' moya.” (My heart is yours, my love.)

She was right.

She’s absolutely whipped.

Taglist: @natashas-favourite-knives @eilarch @natashaswifey @lostandsearching @wandaromanova @pottahishotasf @d14n4ol @xxromanoffxx

231 notes · View notes

sio-writes · 3 years ago

Text

Into the Woods (Part 2)

Part 1 can be found here

Tags: Mild blood, brief references to past abuse

Tag List: @charliestuff

You feel like a creep bringing a stranger into your uncle’s cabin, but you didn’t have any other option. Your uncle isn’t in the house when you call out his name, he must be in the back chopping firewood. Good, the less he sees of this the better.

You take Forest Hobo by the hand and lead him in through the kitchen. After running some water under the tap you hand him the glass, and he gulps down the whole thing in a matter of seconds. You pour a second glass and he downs it again, just as quick.

He wipes his face with the back of his hand, only working to smear the dirt. “Thank you,” he says, voice much less rough than before. “My name is Cole.”

“No problem, Cole,” you say, feeling awkward now. You finished your water mission, so now what? Do you offer him food? A shower? The couch? If you were here by yourself then sure, but there’s another person who lives here.

A person walking in through the door.

“You’re back soon—“ Your uncle stops in the doorway, and his eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. He looks between you and Cole, taking in Cole’s appearance, the mud he tracked in, and you see his eyes fall on the gash in Cole’s legs. Your uncle’s face falls into a scowl.

He motions with his axe towards Cole’s injured leg. “Was that one of mine?” He says, more a statement than a question.

You hear Cole audibly gulp beside you, and in your peripherie you see him nod.

“Son of a bitch,” your uncle curses under his breath, and you’ve never heard him curse before. For such a large and intimidating man, he was surprisingly soft and gentle, especially around you. Your uncle runs a hand over his balding head, and looks back to Cole.

“I didn’t mean that for you, kid. It was meant for—“

“I know who it was for,” Cole says, voice low.

They share a look that you have no clue how to parse out, then your uncle turns his intense stare to you. “Go run a bath, please.”

Finally, something to do. You practically swim through the heavy air to the bathroom and run the hot water.

***

Once Cole is set up and closes the door behind him, you go back to the kitchen to find your uncle scrubbing the floor of mud.

You flounder, “I’m really sorry, I—“

Over his shoulder, he pins you with that same intense stare. “Don’t ever apologize for helping someone in need.”

You bounce on the balls of your feet and look around. “I can help with that if you want.”

He shakes his head. “This is all my fault anyway, go relax.”

You sit on the couch, head buzzing with questions. After another long pause, you turn to your uncle again.

“What was that? Do you know him? Why is he hurt? Did you hurt him?” You have so many more but that’s all you can get out in one breath.

“I know his bastard father,” is the only reply you get. “Go in my room and grab him one of my shirts and some pants. He won’t take ‘em from me.”

You get up from the couch and walk into your uncle’s room. After opening a few drawers you finally find one filled to bursting with oversized novelty shirts. You pick up one in hot pink with a cartoon shrimp on it that reads “Moe’s Shrimp Shack” in huge bubble letters. As funny as seeing Cole in that would be, you don’t really think he’s the laughing type just yet, so you set it aside. You go through a few more—why does your uncle have so many food-themed shirts??—before you find a plain black one with the silver logo for a truck or some kind of tractor on it. Good enough.

The next drawer over is full of pants, and you root through it to find a pair that looks small yet long enough to fit Cole’s frame. You find a dark green pair with another logo going down the leg and set it aside. You’ve made quite the mess digging through your uncle’s drawers, so you shove everything back in its place and slide the drawers shut. No less messy than when you found them.

You fold the clothes best you can, and take them to the bathroom down the hall. You knock gently on the door and press your ear to the frame. You can hear faint sloshing noises but that’s all.

“Cole, I brought you some of my uncle’s clothes to change into.”

A pause, and then you hear, “No.”

“No?”

“You both smell terrible.”

Self-consciously, you turn your head to sniff at your shoulder. You didn’t smell anything off, just the faint scent of your laundry detergent and sweat. Neither of you smoke either, so you have no idea where Cole got the idea that you smell. “Come again?”

“The both of you reek.”

You frown at the door, lips pursed. For someone who needed help Cole was being awfully picky. “Well this is all we got, unless you wanna wear my skinny jeans and button ups.”

Another short pause and you hear a thunk, very much like Cole’s head gently hitting the back rim of the bathtub.

“Fine.”

***

You’re sitting on the couch when Cole walks out, looking cleaner than before. Your uncle has already cleaned all the mud off the floor and is in the middle of the kitchen preparing lunch. It's an odd spread, to say the least. Two sandwiches sit on a plate, along with several strips of bacon waiting to be cooked, and a chunk of nondescript meat from the fridge.

By the time you had set the clothes down in front of the bathroom and walked back out, your uncle had gotten his fancy first aid bag, complete with a suture kit, sitting out and ready on the coffee table. You had a good guess to what, or rather who, that was for. You’d seen your fair share of nasty cuts and scrapes, but never anything that required stitches. And why is there a plastic sheet laid out on the couch? Is he going to take a kidney too?

Your uncle had seen the color drain from your face and patted you on the back. “Don’t worry, kid. You just gotta hand me the stuff.”

Limping into the living room, Cole looks lost, nervously glancing between you, your uncle, and the door. He has his left pant leg rolled up to the knee. Even cleaned off, the gash looks nasty and incredibly painful, but not infected or bleeding at least.

Cole had tied his wet hair back, bringing out the angles of his face. You can make out several silver earrings that run up his ears, as well as a multitude of small scars that decorate his jaw. Despite his rather filled out frame, your uncle’s clothes are too big and hang off him, giving him the appearance of a buff scarecrow.

Your uncle gestures to the couch. “Alright, lay down, we’ll get the back first.”

Cole shoots him a warning look, like he wants to resist the order, but eventually lays face down on the couch.

The gash looks even worse from the back, several deep gouges in a semi-circle over his leg, surrounded by deep scratches like he had clawed at the skin.

You’re starting to piece together the whole story in your head as your uncle readies the suture kit. A picture of a wolf caught in a metal trap, chewing at its leg to get free. You’d heard stories, whispers of werewolves in the area, but you had never given it credence until now.

Your uncle dabs a cotton pad of topical anesthetic around each mark as you sit on the floor next to the table. Your seat puts you right by Cole’s face, and he’s scowling at you. You raise an eyebrow at him.

“Your face is gonna get stuck like that,” you say, and Cole’s scowl only deepens.

“Hand me the needle and thread,” your uncle says. “Don’t touch the top half.”

You do as he says and immediately turn away. You’ve never been good about blood. You can’t watch your uncle do...whatever he’s doing back there, the mere idea makes your stomach churn. And looking at Cole’s face, he feels the same. His scowl has disappeared, his face is pale and his brows are furrowed. You can’t do much to ease the pain, but you can distract him.

“So Cole,” you say, and his eyes snap to look at you. “Where are you from?”

He searches your face, expression suspicious.

“It’s just there’s no other cabins here for miles,” you continue. “And you managed to sneak up on me in the driest part of the season, so clearly you know your way around. Also—“

He interrupts. “I got caught in one of those traps.”

Your uncle speaks up, “You folks know better than to sneak around here.” He sounds angry.

Cole sits up, halfway through turning around to talk to your uncle when he hisses in pain and lays back down. “I wasn’t sneaking. I was running from my father.”

"Aye," your uncle responds. "That's why you're here, right? I'll tell you now, kid, there ain't a whole lot we can do against him."

You don't have a huge idea of what they're talking about. Is Cole's dad rich? Does he have a lot of influence in the area? You weren't exaggerating earlier, there isn't another home in these woods for miles, so did Cole's dad own the land or something? Besides, Cole still hasn't answered your question. Clearly he's avoiding it, but why?

Frustrated, you plop your head in your hand and rest your elbow on your knee. No one is giving you any answers, and you don't have enough puzzle pieces to make a whole picture. But there is one that's been nagging at you, one you were told to never bring up.

"Hey," you start, unsure. "That scar on your leg…"

Cole opens his mouth before your uncle can answer, "Was my father, yes."

Well, that answers that.

"I was tracking a buck," your uncle says, voice gruff. "When I found it, that bastard was halfway through eating it. He got to me first, but I landed a shot in his shoulder."

You sit up, shocked. "Why didn't you ever say anything?"

Your uncle stops suturing and levels you with a flat stare, weakened in effect by the thick glasses perched on his nose. "Would you have believed me?"

"But mom and dad…"

"They told you to never bring it up, right? I told them it was a traumatic boating accident so they'd drop it. Scarred me for life, that boat." He chuckles to himself before turning back to Cole's leg, looking over it for a moment, then giving it a gentle pat. "Alright kid, roll over."

Cole, seemingly bored by your conversation with eyes glazed over, snaps to attention, and his upper lip raises in a snarl. "Stop talking to me like a dog, old man."

Your uncle plants his hands on his hips, cocking his head to one side. Normally he's an intimidating figure, but the coke-bottle glasses he's wearing make him look like a bug. You hide a smile behind your hand.

"Old man? Who's the old man fixing your leg? Now get." He waves his hand for emphasis.

In stilted movements, Cole fips himself over on the couch so he's laying on his back. "You better know what you're doing."

"Would you be here if I didn't?"

You take a glance at what your uncle is doing, and regret it instantly. The plastic he laid on the couch is covered in blood, as is Cole's leg, and your uncle's hands. He's not exactly performing surgery, how much blood could one person--werewolf--have?

The next few minutes pass in tense silence, and you get so socially awkward you start drumming your palms on your knees. Cole flinches every now and then, and you feel for him. But it’s hard sitting there with nothing to do.

You stand up, and head into the kitchen. “So Cole, what’s your poison?”

He responds through clenched teeth, “What.”

“Why is there a slab of meat up here?” You ask no one in particular. “Is that what you think werewolves eat?”

Your uncle looks up. “It’s what I had in the fridge!”

Cole responds in a very low voice, “I’m actually vegetarian.”

“Ah-hah!” You shout and point. “That’s why your dad kicked you out!”

“He didn’t kick me out, I pissed him off one too many times and—“

“And he kicked you out.”

“No! We got in a fight and I ran off.”

You perk up. Finally, a piece of information you can use. “A fight about what?”

Cole crosses his arms over his chest and takes a deep inhale. “He said I let you off easy.”

You pause in the middle of rooting through the fridge and stand up. “Wait, what?”

“When you released me, the other day. He said I should have attacked you. I...disagreed. He tried to kill me, so I ran.”

“Oh,” is all you can say.

“I’m not going to repay kindness with anger,” he says like it’s obvious, emphasizing it with a scoff, and your goodwill towards him runs out. You purse your lips and turn back to the fridge.

“Okay, so extra greasy bacon sandwich for Cole, and a nice lettuce wrap for us,” you say.

“What?! No I—” Cole twists around on the couch to face you and nearly throws his bleeding leg off the couch.

“Yo! Kid! Sit back down so I can finish you up here! They ain’t gonna give you bacon, I promise.”

Grumbling, Cole re-situates himself on his back again and stares resolutely at the ceiling.

Your uncle has all the basic ingredients laid out already, so you prepare the rest of the meal like he had intended, just switching what was meant for who. You catch Cole glaring in your direction every few seconds, and every time you do, you can’t help but snicker. The third or fourth time you throw a wink in his direction and you swear you hear growling.

Eventually, your uncle sits up and pulls off the latex gloves, announcing, “Done!”

Cole’s leg is neatly wrapped in gauze, held together with two little butterfly clips, the only hint of blood being that on the plastic sheet your uncle is carefully balling up. He gathers the rest of his first aid materials and heads for the front door.

Carefully standing, Cole limps over to the kitchen counter and sits at one of the barstools. His hair is all over the place from laying down, and he looks exhausted, like he’s going to drop the second he sees a mattress. He rests his elbows on the counter, and looks down at a spot on the floor before muttering, “Thank you.”

Your mouth pulls down in a frown. “I didn’t do any of that,” you say, gesturing with your spatula towards the living room.

“No, I mean,” he stops, like he’s struggling with the words. He finally makes eye-contact and you realize his eyes are a deep green, like the forest. “Thank you for not killing me.”

You’re not great with eye-contact, so you find yourself as the one to look away, rubbing the back of your neck. “Yeah, sure, uh, no problem.”

Cole leans forward on his elbows, like he’s telling you a secret. “I owe you now, and I don’t like it. Not one bit. But whenever you need me, I’ll be there.”

That sounds like such a tall order it’s near impossible. You can’t help but let out a small laugh. “Yeah, okay.”

“I mean it,” he says. “You’re part of the pack now.”

You blanch. “A pack with your father?”

“No,” he shakes his head. “God no.”

You let out a breath of relief. You have no idea what “being part of the pack” means but it doesn’t seem bad. If Cole’s in it, though, it may be dangerous.

The silence is heavy and awkward, so wuiet that every move you make feels like an atomic bomb. As you continue to trade out the bacon for a more lunch-appropriate spread: chips from the pantry, lunchmeat and cheese for sandwiches, you feel Cole’s eyes on your back as you work. He has the kind of gaze that pins you down, makes you squirm. Like a laser on your back, you want to scratch at it to make it go away. It makes sense; wolves are apex predators. But it doesn’t make you any less wary.

“So,” you say as you turn back to the kitchen island. “Your dad’s coming after you?”

Cole gravely nods. “Once I don’t come home tonight, he’ll be out looking for me. This’ll probably be his first stop.”

“You don’t have any other family?” It’s a crass, invasive question, but with Cole putting you and your uncle in this potentially deadly situation, it begs the question of why.

“My mother and all my siblings got out when they had the chance. I haven’t heard from any of them in years.”

You tilt your head and frown. “So what made you change your mind?”

Cole’s face grows dark, mouth pulling down in a deep frown that etches lines on his face. He looks conflicted, and takes a moment before he answers. “It was...comfortable. With my dad, I mean. He kept me fed, protected me from hunters like your uncle. But the more time I spent around him, the worse he got. He’s a violent, angry person. The risk of staying around him isn’t worth my life.”

You’re hit with a pang of sympathy. Cole is around your age, but when wearing that dark expression he looks ten years older. You want to reach over the counter and give him a hug, offer some form of reassurance, but you don’t have anything close to his life experience. You can’t imagine what it’s like to leave behind everything you know and trek into what you’ve been told is “enemy territory.” He must be so confused, so lost. No wonder he bolted when you first met.

After a moment, you reach out your hand and lay it gently over one of his. You leave enough space so he can pull back, but he only looks at your hand, then up at your face.

“Well,” you say gently. “You’re here now, and that counts for something. We’ll do whatever we can to help.” You give a small smile. “We’re all a pack now.”

And for the first time, Cole smiles back.

Chapter 3 >>

#my writing #into the woods #monster romance #werewolf #monster writing #exophilia writing #monster x human #sfw #monster boyfriend #Thank you all for being so patient!!#I put a lot of work into this so it’s a bit long :<#If you like it there will be a part 3!!

77 notes · View notes

shemarmooresfedora · 4 years ago

Text

Rebuilding Family

Summary: Y/N and Spencer were college sweethearts at Cal-Tech but once Spencer got accepted to the FBI Academy, he ended things between them deciding it was not fair to make Y/N wait for him. When they meet again years later, he discovers something unexpected.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader

Warnings: swearing

Masterlist

Chapter 6

Spencer slowly opened his eyes, adjusting to the morning light seeping in through the curtains. Jo was resting peacefully on his lap just like how they were during the movie. Unexpectedly however, Y/N was leant up against his shoulder, softly breathing. Spencer wished he could stay like this forever, this is how it should have always been. But then, he noticed the time on his watch and realized it was Monday morning.

Jo was tightly clinging on to his right arm so he slowly lifted his left hand and nudged you slightly. You mumbled and dug yourself further into the crook of his neck, clearly not awake yet.

“Y/N, it’s Monday and it’s 7:30 in the morning,” he whispered.

Your eyes shot open and you quickly distanced yourself from him.

“Sorry I didn’t mean to-well you know,” you gestured to his shoulder.

“Josephine, baby, you need to get up now. Mommy forgot to set an alarm for school,” you gently shook the kid awake.

You lifted Jo up as she was beginning to wake and carried her upstairs to dress her.

“Do you need me to do anything?” Spencer called out.

“Could you pack her lunch? Give her a juice box, a fruit cup, a bag of cheez-it’s, and a PB&J please,” you shouted back.

Spencer ran to the kitchen, grabbing the empty dinosaur lunch box from Jo’s backpack. He grabbed an ice pack out of the freezer to keep the lunch box cool inside, putting in a fruit punch juice box and a diced peaches fruit cup with a spoon. He poured some cheez-it’s into a ziploc bag and sealed it shut. Then, Spencer located the peanut butter in the cupboards, slathering it on to the other slice of bread.

“Crust on or cut off?” he yelled upstairs.

“On is fine! Thank you!” you replied as you finished brushing Jo’s hair, starting to head downstairs.

“Jo, grab your lunch box from Spencer and thank him for making you lunch, put it in your backpack, and grab a pop-tart for the road. Mommy just needs to grab her work bag,” you said, putting on a tan blazer and pinning your hair back with bobby pins.

Jo nodded and thanked Spencer, grabbing a strawberry frosted pop-tart and running out the front door with her backpack.

“You know pop-tarts have only three grams of protein but are high in refined carbs like high fructose corn syrup. Studies show they actually can make you hungrier,” Spencer stated.

He wasn’t intending to take a jab at Y/N’s choice of breakfast for Jo this morning but you certainly took it that way.

“I’m sorry, have you raised a kid?” you asked sarcastically.

“No but who’s fault is that?” he snapped back, immediately regretting it.

Your hands fell from where they were adjusting your hair in the mirror. You did not look at him or say a single word as you collected your purse and laptop and began to walk to the door.

“Y/N, wait! I didn’t mean that,” he pleaded.

You inhaled and turned around.

“You don’t get to sit on your high horse and act like I didn’t do you a favor, Spencer,” you clenched your jaw.

“A FAVOR?” he asked incredulously, “You call missing six years of my daughter’s life a favor?”

“You’re seriously going to look me in the eye and tell me that if I called you seven years ago saying I was pregnant, you would have quit the FBI and moved back,” you questioned.

“I-”

“Even if you did quit, you would have ended up resenting us for not getting to fulfill your dreams so yeah I did you a favor.”

“So you think our daughter is some massive burden that you ‘took the bullet’ on? If you truly think that, then maybe I’ll just fight you for custody.”

“I was fully aware of my options back then. I chose to have Jo because she was my dream. But she clearly wasn’t yours because you left me the second you had something better lined up. And I’d like to see you fucking try to fight for custody, news flash! Your name isn’t on the birth certificate. You have no legal rights over Jo. But how dare you even threaten to take my child away from me over a fucking pop-tart, you asshole,” you stormed out the house, slamming the front door behind you.

The feeling in Spencer’s chest now the exact opposite of when he woke up this morning.

Please call me. I’m sorry, I was out of line.

You had a multitude of missed calls and texts from Spencer that you didn’t reply to but that was the first one he sent. One of them said he was being called away on a case so luckily he wasn’t showing up at your door every day.

It was Saturday night and Jo had fallen asleep on the couch watching Tom & Jerry cartoons. You clicked the TV off and carried her up the stairs. You tucked her under her dinosaur comforter and kissed her forehead.

“Bedtime story, Mommy,” she mumbled.

“Okay, which one?” you asked, looking at the bookshelf.

“Caltechia,” she said, opening her eyes slightly.

“What?” you furrowed your brow.

“Spencer told it to me. You know the one with the goofy knight that loves the elegant queen and pretty princess of Caltechia,” Jo stated matter-of-factly.

You smiled softly, “I’m sorry, Baby J, I don’t know how that one ends. Maybe Spencer can finish it for you some day. How about The Very Hungry Caterpillar instead?”

She nodded and her eyes fluttered shut once again as you began to read.

After flicking the lights off and gently shutting Jo’s door, you returned downstairs to grade some papers.

You got through about five when there was a soft hesitant knock on the door. You sighed, closing your laptop. Your TV was on as background noise and the lights in the living room were on so it was obvious you were home and still awake. You already knew who it was without even looking.

You opened the door slightly to see Spencer standing there with swollen puffy eyes and nervous fidgety hands.

“Can we talk?” he asked quietly.

You opened the door all the way and plopped yourself back down on the couch.

“Jo is sleeping so if you came here to yell at me again, save it,” you huffed.

“No, I came here to apologize. I wasn’t trying to criticize your parenting. I was just stating a random fact I read, it was stupid. I’m sorry. And I’m also sorry that I escalated the argument instead of trying to defuse it,” he spoke softly.

“I’m sorry too. I should have known that it was just another statistic. Some things never change,” you laughed softly.

“But Y/N, you knew that I had a father that abandoned me and my worst fear was becoming him and you still kept Jo from me anyways,” he whispered with watery eyes.

“You know how you claimed you broke up with me to protect me? I thought keeping Jo from you so you didn’t have to make that decision was kind of like protecting you. You can’t abandon a child you didn’t know existed.”

“Well, I know about her now and I’m not abandoning her. I don’t want to. Can you please let me be her dad and not just her father?” he pleaded, wiping away the tear that rolled down his cheek.

“We can tell her at breakfast in the morning and you can come with us to the park tomorrow. I guess we could work out some days that you can drop her off at school or pick her up and keep her for dinner. But she sleeps here, I’m not budging on that for now. She needs some consistency if we are going to spring this on her,” you replied.

“Yes! Yes! Thank you,” he excitedly whisper-shouted.

Without even realizing what he was doing, Spencer pulled you in for a hug. He soon realized when you tensed in his arms.

“Oh-uh I’m sorry,” he stuttered, pulling his arms back, “I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

He awkwardly waved as he made his way to the door.

“Good night, Spencer.”

“Night, Y/N.”

You pulled back the window curtain a little to watch Spencer walk out of your driveway. He had his back turned to you but you saw him pump his fist in the air and jump up and down a few times before collecting himself and beginning to walk away with a smile on his face. You laughed to yourself. Still the same old goofy Spencer.

#spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer x reader #spencer reid #reid x reader #cm fic #spencer reid x you

398 notes · View notes

thefanbasewhore · 4 years ago

Note

"I had a nightmare, I wanted to make sure you were okay." With Bucky, thank you doll ❤️

Summary || Bucky gets depressed and that's okay because it's normal.

Warning/content || depressed Bucky, soft Bucky

Paring || Bucky Barnes x female reader

Thank you for the request, love u ❤️

Arguing with Bucky was never easy, either by nature or the fact he had to conform to a false identity for the last few decades he would get upset, push everyone that matters away.

Blinded by his feelings, not sure how to act on them or to act in a relationship period. Whenever he's upset about something he completely shuts off from the world, pretends he doesn't care about anything, that nothing matters.

He falls back into his old ways, before therapy, before he found a purpose in life. A grumpy man who acts like he has no one and ontop of that acts as if he wants everyone gone.

Like the night before, something has happened of course he wouldn't say a word about it, retreated to your shared bedroom and stayed in bed all day, not eating, not drinking nearly enough water. Emotionless, the only form of entertainment are white walls.

You worry, a lot. It's the exact reason you went to go pull him out of bed. It's normal to have bad days, Bucky's entitled to having a few bad days with the trauma that can last three life times.

Slowly petting his hair, feeling the silk strands move in-between the gaps of your fingers as sad blue eyes meet your own. "Hi Buck."

"Hi." It's sharp, not on purpose and he even noticed as his eyes gloss over. "Sorry."

"It's alright baby, you doing okay?" Bucky decides not to answer, only squeezes his eyes shut as his bottom lip starts to quiver.

"Don't cry, I'm right here. Everything is okay Buck." Pressing a kiss against his forehead as you sit on your knees on the side of the bed. "How about we go take a shower and get something to eat?"

"Jus' wanna stay here sweetheart." He dismisses quickly, curling the covers closer but also moving into your touch with a sigh.

"You haven't eaten all day -."

"I don't want to move." Stubborn like usual but understandable.

"I'm worried, I want you to eat something." You try again.

"I told you no! Just leave me alone!" It's out of character, words resemble a broken man with tears that freely rush down his cheeks, turning to face the other direction.

He doesn't mean it. It happens more often then it should, especially with the antidepressants but he's only human after all, a man with a heavy-guilt ridden heart.

Bucky's love for you is unconditional, there would be nothing with you. Before finding you days and nights morphed together, nothing made sense and while he's still trying to figure it out.. some things just keep getting in the way.

You haven’t talked to him since that night, it's almost been a full two days. After crying due to his his outburst, you decided it was best.. give him time to grieve or feel through whatever has him so emotion.

It's hard not to, it's not his fault but a little pit of anger forms inside your stomach. It fills you with guilt, ashamed it even exists but also how easy it is form him to cast you away. Go days without checking in or even muttering a word. It's to the point that sleepung in the same bed is not an option, the couch would be fine.. so did Bucky seeing he didn’t even notice you'd stop checking on him.

Currently, falling to sleep is nearly impossible so instead a large wool planet wrapped around your shoulder, a good pulled up and over your hair because the living room is always so damn cold. It's at least three o'clock in the morning, a steaming cup of hot chocolate fills you with warmness as some kind of dumb cartoon as you fixated.

There's something peaceful about the early mornings and late nights, a mix of light traffic and crickets chirping but for Bucky it's filled with sweat that beats his forehead, a pounding head and paralyzing fear as he wakes with a gasp. his heart pounds inside his chest, reaching out next to him just to find the bed empty, lingering for your comfort.

It was surprising to hear the deep baritone of his voice so late, it makes you jump, almost spilling the hot chocolate. He leans against the door frame, only clad in a pair of boxers, his bare arms cross over his chest to rub over the large muscles of his biceps with explode with goosebumps. “Hi,” He pauses, “I had a nightmare about you and wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I’m fine, go back to sleep Buck.” The simple answer comes out more harsh then intended, lips dropping into a frown as a but of emotion fills his voice.

"I'm sorry I did it again, I'm sorry I yelled at you."

"No I'm sorry I didn't mean to answer you like that -- you have nothing to be sorry for Buc -."

Before the sentence could even get out Bucky drops to his knees in front of you, hands cupping your own, bringing them to his chest to feel the warmth of his body, beating of his heart. "I didn't want you to go away, you know that right? I want you with me, always."

"Buck, it's okay. You did nothing wrong - please don't feel like you did. I understand you want to be alone." You pause to reach out to cup his cheek, rubbing a thumb over the coarse hair that peppers his jaw. "It's okay to be alone, I'm here when you want to talk."

Tears of frustration pinch his eyes as he shakes his head. Bottom lip quivering as he meets your eyes. "It's not normal to be like this, the doctor said it would go away."

"Hey, hey." Soft fingers run over his jaw, lovingly rubbing sweet touched into the skin. "You're not normal baby, you're a super soldier who's lived through unimaginable things, you're stronger then anyone I know. It's okay to get sad and be alone, I understand."

Bucky smiles, it's sad and little crooked but still beautiful. "You are my heart, doll, you make everything better."

You smile so beautifully it makes him speechless, leaning forward to press a kiss against your lips as you wrap your arms around his broad shoulders, nuzzling the tips of your nose against the smooth skin of his neck. Feeling the brush of his beard as he just stays there - feeling you.

“I love you so much, sweet girl.”

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fluff #bucky x you #bucky barnes #bucky x reader

236 notes · View notes

jungshookz · 4 years ago

Note

omg it’s me again i just thought of sth and only you can make it so good;; EMT seokjiN and this prompt i saw sth like “will you stop flirting with me? you just got seriously injured and I’m the emt trying to tend to your wounds, i don’t give a fuck that i look cute when i’m concerned, you’re lucky you’re not dead you dipshit”

➺ pairing; emt!seokjin x reader

➺ genre; sfw!! namjoon is clumsy!! y/n is particularly cheeky that even i was like :0!! and handsome seokjin is simply handsome!!

➺ wordcount; 4.9k

➺ what to expect; “i’m just checking out your pupils, darling. trust me. you’ll know when i’m about to kiss you.”

➺ note; i thought i’d kick off the christmas with cee event with a jin drabble seeing as it was recently his birthday!! also i hope this drabble pumps you UP for the other drabbles that’ll be posted this month <3 happy deceember!!

»»————-　❄　————-««

“i just don’t think this is a super good idea, you know?” namjoon mutters sheepishly, looking down at you while you busy yourself with tightening his laces, “i mean, i can barely walk three steps without tripping over a normal floor, so i don’t know if me on ice is going to be any better-”

“oh, will you please give it a break? i’ve got you!” you get up off the ground before dusting your knees off, “besides, you were the one who said you wanted to try ice-skating - and it’s not like the ice skating rink is as steep as a mountain or anything. it’s all nice and flat! see?” you gesture towards the zamboni currently making its rounds on the ice, “and we came here just in time for a nice, clean layer of ice for us to skate on. there’s nothing that could go wrong!”

“nothing that could go wrong?!” namjoon gawks, hoisting his foot up so he can rest his ankle across his knee, “look at this thing, y/n! what kind of a shoe is this?” he taps his fingernail against the metal blade before quickly retracting his hand and shuddering, “these things are literal weapons- why can’t i just skate without the skates?”

“because that... wouldn’t be ice-skating anymore? that’d just be... ice-walking. and your sneakers won’t do you any good on the ice, anyway,” you shake your head before shrugging, “the blades are supposed to help you, like- they get a… solid grip on the ice and it helps you move around better, you know? something like that.”

namjoon scoffs and leans back on the bench, “please explain to me how a thin metal blade is supposed to get a solid grip on ice-”

“look, the offer to get you one of those little kiddie things for you to hold onto still stands.” you point over to the front counter, “they have one that looks like a penguin! it’s adorable! i mean, i think it’s a little shorter than your knees so you might have to crouch down a little if i get one for you-”

“wha-” namjoon immediately frowns before crossing his arms, “y/n, i am a grown man. i don’t need to hold onto a penguin-”

“okay, suit yourself!” you chirp, sticking your hand out for him, “c’mon, you manly man. i wanna get on the ice! i’ve been waiting all week for this-”

namjoon grumbles curses under his breath as he pushes himself up off the bench

penguin

he doesn’t need a penguin!

how dare you!!!!!

you can’t help but giggle as you watch him waddle towards you, being very careful not to fall over and twist an ankle

admittedly, bringing namjoon to an ice skating rink probably wasn’t the best idea

one time he sprained his ankle after tripping over literally nothing and he had to use a crutch for like two weeks

he’s verY susceptible to injuries

when he first brought up the idea of going to an ice-skating rink you were going to turn him down and suggest something safer and more namjoon friendly...

but it’s december!

and december is literally the time to go ice-skating!

and there’s always a hot chocolate truck that’s parked right by the rink so hopefully you’ll be able to soothe namjoon’s bruised bum (you’re betting that namjoon’s bum will be all sorts of bruised after ten minutes on the ice) with extra whipped cream and marshmallows

hopefully he won’t be as grumpy as he is now when he’s sipping on a big ol mug of rich, creamy hot chocolate

“we’re going to have so much fun! the last time i went skating, i-” as soon as you slide onto the ice, namjoon suddenly yanks you backwards

you turn to look at him only to see him gripping onto the railing for dear life

he’s not even on the ice yet!

big ol’ wimp

“what’s the matter? cold feet?” you joke, namjoon giving you an unimpressed frown, “what?? you have to admit that was a good joke-”

“that was an awful joke-”

“namjoon…” you purse your lips and place your free hand on your hip, “you know that you have to be on the ice in order to ice skate, right?” you give his hand a reassuring squeeze, “i’m not going to let you fall. i promise! but in the rare case that you do fall, feel free to fall on top of me to cushion your blow. i’ll gladly break a couple of ribs just to keep you from hitting the ground!”

“what happens if you skate circles around me and end up cutting a circle into the ice and then i fall in??”

oh god

here we go

“that’s not going to happen, namjoon.” you shake your head, “because we’re not in a cartoon.”

“what happens if i accidentally fall backwards and end up stabbing myself in the eye with the blade?”

“that’s not going to happen, namjoon- first of all, the tip of the blade is rounded off, so you won’t be stabbing anything at all, and second of all, we both know you’re not nearly flexible enough for your body to be able to bend in half like that-

“what happens if i fall to the ground and someone skates over my fingers and slices them off?!”

“that’s not going to-” you pause for a split second, “well, that could happen, so maybe just don’t fall and remember to keep your hands off the ice-”

“okay, well- i don’t want to do this anymore!!!” namjoon lets go of your hand and you resist the urge to fall to the ground and let out a primal screech of rage, “if there’s even a chance that i’m going to lose the tip of one finger today, there’s no way in hell i’m getting onto the ice-”

“you’re not going to lose any fingers-”

“how can you be so sure?!”

you immediately shut up before reaching up to pinch the bridge of your nose

you love namjoon with all your heart but sometimes he’s just.., a little much

he’s not very big on risk-taking

he’s always been very content just staying within his comfort zone which is fine!

you never pressure him into doing anything if he very clearly is uncomfortable with it

with that being said, it’s just that whenever you even try to nudge him like a centimetre out of his safety bubble, he flips out on you just like how he’s flipping out right now

like that one time you made him try a vanilla bean frappucino (arguably the plainest most basic frappucino flavour on the starbucks menu) instead of his usual iced americano and after he took a sip he accused you of trying to make him get diabetes

it’s not like you’re purposely trying to torment him by forcing him to ice skate

you just wanted to come here and have a good time with your friend!

“namjoon, you seriously need to calm down-”

“i am calm! i am so calm! in fact, i’ve never been MORE CALM-!”

it doesn’t take long for you and namjoon to start bickering with each other, the both of you too wrapped up in yelling at each other to notice the weird glances you’re getting from everyone

“all i’m trying to say is that the only reason why we’re here in the first place is because you said that you wanted to try-”

“yeah, and now i change my mind! what, are you saying i’m not allowed to change my mind?”

“i never- i never said you weren’t allowed to change your mind, i just want you to try to understand that it can be a little frustrating for me to set everything up for you only for you to chicken out at the end-”

“chicken out?! how dare you?! i am not chickening- i’m backing out for the safety of my eyeballs and my hands-”

“i said i would hold your hand the whole time!”

“that’s not secure enough! you holding my hand on slippery ice as a form of safety is equivalent to me getting on a rollercoaster using flimsy shoelaces to tie me to the seat-”

“that’s why i said i would get you the penguin so that you have two handles to hold onto-”

“i don’t want the friggin’ penguin!” namjoon snaps, stepping aside when a little kid nudges past him only to immediately glide onto the ice

the two of you pause to watch him and you gawk when he starts zipping back and forth like a maniac

that could be you right now

you, too, could be having a blast on the ice right now if it weren’t for your manbaby friend over here

you gesture to the random child currently twirling around on the ice before scoffing, “namjoon! look at him! if that literal toddler can do that on the ice, you can at least step forward to stand on the ice-”

“that is not a child, that is just a very tiny professional ice skater-”

you press your lips together in frustration as namjoon continues to list off reasons why the two of you should just go for hot chocolate and then go straight home

and for a second you think about giving up and just giving him what he wants but...

no way!

you are noT letting him talk himself out of this one this time

you wanna go ice skating today and you’re going to figure out a way to make both you and namjoon happy

okay

so he doesn’t want to hold your hand

he doesn’t want the penguin

what other options do you have??

you twiddle with the end of your scarf before pausing and looking down at it

…

lightbulb

»»————-　❄　————-««

“alrighty… how does that feel?” you tighten the knot before giving namjoon’s stomach a pat, “nice and secure?”

yep

that’s right

you ended up tying your scarf around namjoon’s waist like some kind of a leash

you’re really hoping people won’t think this is one of those pet-play situations where namjoon is your human puppy and you’re his BDSM dominatrix

you’re not shaminG the kink or anything!!!

you’re just not into the whole arf arf roll over thing

it probably didn’t help that you wore a leather trench coat today

the weather’s finally cooled down enough for you to wear it so obviouSLY you had to wear your super cool leather trench coat but now you feel like you should take it off just in case it makes you look like you’re... into barking

namjoon hooks a finger into the scarf and gives it a little tug, “…i suppose… this is better than nothing…”

“great!” you sigh in relief, “so… i’m gonna take it nice and slow, okay? we’ll start off with some basic gliding and then we’ll go from there.”

unfortunately the ice is a little rougher now because it took like twenty minutes for namjoon to practice just standing on the ice without toppling over

you’re just glad that he’s now willing to actually give skating a try instead of giving up and going home

this is progress!!

you wonder if you’ll ever be able to convince him to go skydiving with you one day

...baby steps

“so, gliding is kind of like… it’s kind of like marching, i guess?” you hum, “it’ll help you transition into skating. you’re gonna march two steps forward and then let yourself just glide forward…” you wrap the end of the scarf around your fist to really make sure that it won’t slip from your fingers (because you’re 100% sure that namjoon will have a meltdown if you let go of it) as you continue to skate backwards slowly, watching namjoon’s feet like a hawk

you’re surprised he hasn’t fallen yet what with his wobbly knees

“am i… am i doing it??” namjoon asks dumbly and you can’t help but grin when he starts to pick up the movement

thank god he’s a fast learner

“hey, look at you go!” you laugh lightly, giving him a thumbs up, “you’re doing it! i mean, we’re going pretty slowly... but you’re doing it!”

namjoon reaches forward to grab onto the scarf when he wobbles a little and you immediately stop so that he can rebalance himself

(you don’t know how you’re going to catch him if he falls because he’s definitely going to end up crushing you and breaking all the bones in your body)

the two of you spend the next twenty minutes or so slowly making your way around the rink

for the most part, namjoon does just fine

there was one point where a little kid knocked into him from behind and he nearly fell over buT luckily he grabbed onto the railing before anything happened

he looked like he was fully ready to chase after the kid to strangle him but that’s beside the point

you let out an impatient little sigh as people continue to whiz past you

boo

you wanna do some whizzing too!

“are you…” you trail off, looking back over at namjoon, “okay to move on to stroking?”

namjoon’s brows furrow as he lets go of the scarf after regaining his balance, “stroking?”

“mhm!” you nod, turning to glance over your shoulder for a second to make sure there’s no one behind you, subtly skating backwards a tiny bit quicker, “it’s literally just, like, a longer version of gliding. you just extend the same motion for a longer period of time, that’s all.”

“oh... like... like this?” namjoon pushes off a little harder and you nod enthusiastically at the smooth movement

“yeah, there you go!” you laugh when namjoon picks it up with no problem, “look at you! you’re a natural... you might even be better than that tiny professional ice skater from earlier- make sure to lean forward a little…”

namjoon grins excitedly as he continues to glide left and right all while you (unbeknownst to him) gradually pick up your pace while pulling him towards you

hey!

he’s doing it!

this wasn’t as hard as he thought it’d be

he’s doing it!!!!!

and he’s going waY quicker than he originally was, which is probably a good sign, right?

“can i take the lead?” namjoon stands up a little straighter and puffs his chest out, “i wanna lead you now!”

you slow down a little and look down at the scarf that you’re still clutching onto for dear life, “you wanna take th- okay, well, do you want me to untie you?”

“oh no, i think you should still hold onto it just in case, but i wanna lead the way!” namjoon bounces up and down excitedly and clasps his hands together, “please, y/n? you’ve seen how fast i can go now!”

right

he can go super fasT on his own and it’s not because you’ve been pulling him along like a little wagon

you know what

it’s fine

you’re not worried about namjoon leading the way mainly because you know he’s just going to go around and around in slow circles

you could probably get away with closing your eyes while he pulls you around

you snort before nodding and sliding to the side so that he can skate past you, “alright, hotshot. you take the lead. now it’s really going to look like this is a leash- woAH-” your eyes widen in surprise when namjoon suddenly surges forward, his legs going left and right and left and right at a consistent pace-

oh god

okay

you speed yourself up as well to try to keep up with him, keeping your grip tight around your poor stretched out scarf

“namjoon-!” you laugh uneasily, “take it easy, you speed demon-”

“we should go ice skating all the time!” namjoon cheers, raising both his hands up in the air as he continues gliding like a maniac, “isn’t this fun?!”

“oh shit, sorry, excuse me-” you try your best noT to collide with people as you skate past them, “namjoon, i know you think this is fun but i really think you should slow down a little- oh, frick-” you curse to yourself when you notice that your scarf is caught in the clasp of your bracelet

shit!

this scarf was expensive!!!!

there’s no way you’re going to accidentally yanK out the threads and ruin it

“c’mon, stupid thing...” you look up for a brief second to make sure that namjoon’s still going straight and that he’s not about to round a corner or anything before looking back down to try to unhook the thread

you could try tugging on it but you’re worried that it’s going to mess up your scarf and you are noT willing to take that chance

“i’m turning here!”

“uh-huh, yeah...” your tongue pokes out in concentration as you use your nail to try to pluck it out and...

ah!

success!

there we go

no destroyed scarves today!

“what did you just sa-!” your eyes widen in surprise when suddenly the scarf disappears from your fist and you look up to see that the-

SMAK!

»»————-　❄　————-««

...

my head hurts

...

my ass hurts too

...

you peel an eye open slowly before closing it again

holy moly

your head is spinning and your ears are ringing and you’re pretty sure your eyes are permanently crossed because you can’t seem to get your vision to focus

is it possible to feel like you want to throw up and pass out at the same time?

you squeeze your eyes shut before shaking your head a little in a poor attempt to shakE the pain away

jesus

what happened??

the last thing you remember is going full speed on the ice and then everything went black

you push yourself up onto your elbows before looking around

you… are in a van that smells like bleach for some reason

why are you in a van??

oh god

were you kidnapped???

were you chloroformed and kidnapped???

you jump when one of the doors suddenly swings open and you immediately pull your legs up and away so that your kidnapper can’t reach over and drag you out by the legs

“hey, you! how are you feeling?”

“i- um-” you sit up all the way before turning and leaning back against the metal bench screwed into the side of the van, “i think i’m oka- a..a...aaaaaayyyy....?” you trail off dumbly, finding yourself being unable to shut your TRAP

okay

hello

you blink owlishly at the very handsome kidnapper before tilting your head to the side a little

the corners of his mouth twitch in a smile and he mimics your movements, tilting his head as well

maybe… you weren’t kidnapped

you just died and went to heaven, that’s all!

this is heaven

heaven is the back of an impeccably clean van and you are currently staring at a real-life angel

“sorry you woke up all alone, by the way- i just had to ask your friend a couple of questions as to what happened... i also had to comfort him a little because i’m pretty sure he thinks he killed you-”

“i’m sorry, am i not dead? is this not, like, the bus to heaven or something?” you ask, looking around at your surroundings

there’s a lot of medical-related tools and gadgets in here considering the fact that this is heaven

apparently heaven has heart defibrillators which doesn’t make much sense

“hey, hey- relax!” you jump when you feel him wrap his fingers around your ankle to get your attention, “you’re not dead. this isn’t the bus to heaven. you’re just in the back of an ambulance. you got into a little collision with the plexiglass barriers.”

okay

that makes more sense

“oh, thank god.” you breathe out, “because if i did die, then body slamming into plexiglass would’ve been a humiliating way to go.”

“mm, i totally agree. i would’ve been embarrassed having to drag your dead body away from the plexiglass.” mr probably-not-here-to-kidnap-you laughs lightly and opens the door a little wider for himself, “i just wanna patch you up. will you let me do that?”

you feel your mouth go dry when he takes his jacket off

hello broad shoulders

“you can do anything you want to me.” you blurt out, watching in awe as he steps into the ambulance to join you

you’re pretty sure the fact that you might have a mild concussion has something to do with it but your filter has just completely disappeared because jesus christ you want this man to ram into you harder than you rammed into the wall

you just don’t get it

how can one man be so... attractive?

the soft, perfectly tousled hair is right!

the pillowy, cherry-coloured lips are right!

the twinkling brown eyes are right!

the low, soothing voice is right!

the broad shoulders and equally as broad chest... veRY right

everything is just so RIGHT

you swallow thickly when he sits down across from you and crosses his legs, his knees practically pressed right up against yours

you’re certainly not complaining about being so close to him but you’re definitely going to cramp up like this and you always make really weird faces when you get pins and needles shooting up your legs

you move your legs so that your ankles are on either side of his thighs before scooting your bum a little closer towards him

heh >:-)

“can you tell me what your name is?” he asks, pulling a first-aid kit out from under the bench

“y/n y/l/n.” you answer almost instantaneously, keeping your eyes glued on his face as he rummages through the box

“mhm… very good…”

“what’s your name?” you watch as he rips open a little gauze pad

god

even his fingers are pretty

“seokjin.” seokjin smiles sweetly, your heart skipping a beat when he reaches up to brush some hair away from your forehead, “i’m just going to clean your cut up a little bit. stay still for me, yeah?”

you nod obediently and find yourself leaning forward a little bit even though you know you probably don’t need to

“what’s your last name?” you ask, seokjin looking down at you for a brief second before focusing back on the cut on your forehead

“kim. why?”

“just wanted to know what my future surname is going to be, that’s all.”

seokjin snorts before raising a brow, “quite the charmer, aren’t you?”

“it’s not every day that i get to talk to a very handsome ambulance man.”

seokjin chuckles, smoothing his fingers over the pad to make sure that it’s secure before pulling away, “mm, that’s fair. can you tell me what day it is?”

“saturday. which i think is the perfect day out of all of the days to go out on a date, because if we get super drunk and have crazy sex tonight, we can wake up late tomorrow and go out for brunch-!”

seokjin suddenly pinches your lips in between his fingers before frowning in concern, “your bottom lip is a little busted.”

“pheel vfree to kiss it bhetter.” you murmur, seokjin pulling away to rummage through his little kit again, “you look really cute when you’re concerned, by the way.”

“is that so?” seokjin hums, pulling a q-tip out and a tube of what looks to be some kind of a gel, “you can’t go around kissing strangers, you know.”

“you’re an exception.” you grin, dodging the q-tip when seokjin tries to dab some gel on your lip, “i was serious about the date, though. what do you think?”

“i think-” seokjin tries again only for you to turn your head the other way, “i think that you need to stop flirting with me so that i can do my job-”

“i’m letting you do your job!” you argue, “i’m just asking you an innocent question, that’s all-”

“if you were letting me do my job, you would be all patched up by now-” seokjin laughs lightly, shaking his head and leaning backwards when you move your head again, “okay, how about this? i will happily go out with you if you just stay still and let me clean up your lip.”

you perk up immediately, “for real?”

“for real.” he nods, holding the q-tip up, “are you willing to cooperate now?”

“mhm.” you hum contently, leaning forward and immediately pursing your lips, “please fix my lips so they’ll be nice and healed by the time we go out on our date.”

“why? are you planning to do a lot of kissing on our date?” seokjin teases, applying the gel before using the other end to dab off the excess

“that’s for me to know and for you to find out.”

seokjin presses his lips together to hold back a smirk

you are... awfully cheeky, aren’t you?

he’s verY into that

and bonus points because you’re very attractive and definitely his type

“okay, lemme just do one last thing here.” seokjin reaches into his shirt pocket for a little flashlight before reaching over and pinching your chin in between his fingers gently and bringing your face closer to his

“you’re not even going to wait until after our first date to kiss me?” you murmur, your eyes widening slightly, “and i thought i was coming on strong.”

“i’m just checking out your pupils, darling.” seokjin hums, “trust me. you’ll know when i’m about to kiss you.”

you shift in your spot a little as you feel youR cheeks starting to heat up now

oh,.,. how the tables have turned.,,.

seokjin’s just glad that he finally figured out how to get you to stay still so that he can get along with his procedures smoothly

“hi, pretty girl…” seokjin coos, raising your eyelid gently so that he can get a good look at your pupils, “mhm, that’s right… just keep your eyes on me…”

gladly

you’d keep your eyes on seokjin for the rest of your liFE if you could

“is this finally the part where you kiss me?”

“nice try, cheeky.”

»»————-　❄　————-««

“so y/n’s going to be okay?” namjoon chews on his thumbnail anxiously and you reach over to pat his knee reassuringly

the poor thing is going to chew his entire hand off if he doesn’t stop soon

he joined you on the ambulance ten minutes ago but for eight whole minutes was just profusely apologizing to you (“i’ll never put on another pair of skates for as long as i’ll live!” “namjoon, it’s fine-” “for as long aS I LIVE-”)

seokjin nods as he packs up his kit and slides it back underneath the bench, “y/n’s going to be just fine. you can relax!”

“namjoon - you’re acting like you ran me over with a monster truck. i’m fine!”

“how many fingers am i holding up?” namjoon holds up three fingers and you blink at him before raising a brow

“obviously five.”

namjoon’s eyes widen in panic and he turns back to look at seokjin, “y-you said she was fine!”

“three! three fingers, you’re holding up three fingers-” you giggle, reaching forward to push namjoon’s hand back down, “seriously, joon... i’m fine! i swear.”

“alright, all you have to do is keep her company during the ride.” seokjin clears his throat, “i want to do a couple of scans at the hospital just in case!”

“aw, but i don’t want namjoon to keep me company-” you whine quietly, leaning against namjoon’s shoulder as you look up at jin, “why can’t you keep me company instead?”

“someone has to drive the ambulance.” seokjin teases, reaching down to pinch the apple of your cheek gently, “i’m all yours at the hospital.”

“namjoon can drive.” you push your bottom lip out in a pout before batting your lashes at him, “don’t you wanna hang out with me?”

“if namjoon’s driving skills are as good as his skating skills, i think i’m going to have to pass.” jin laughs lightly, sliding back into his jacket “we can hang out once we get to the hospital.”

namjoon narrows his eyes suspiciously as he glances back and forth between the two of you

...

..,.,...the energy in here...,.,..

.,,.,.,,the vibes,.,..,

someone definitely wants to fuck someone

seokjin sighs to himself as he hops into the driver’s seat before slamming the door shut

he pulls his phone out to check the time before smiling to himself because :-) your number is on his phone :-)

he wasn’t expecting to get a cute girl’s number today but he welcomes this surprise with open arms!

“y/n y/l/n...” he murmurs under his breath, reaching up to adjust the mirror

your name does seem like it’d fit with his surname

his ears prickle when he hears your muffled voice through the thin partition and he leans back a little so he can do some sneaky eavesdropping

“i am planning... to have so much sex with that man. but in like a romantic way, you know? because i’m classy like that.”

seokjin snorts to himself before shoving the key into the ignition

(for the record: he feels the exact same way as you do).

christmas with cee 2020 masterlist

🎁what would you like from ceenta this year? 🎁

529 notes · View notes

consumeconstantly · 4 years ago

Text

Innocence, avoidance

Summary: Jason Todd cracks crass jokes and dirty comments like they’re his lifeblood. It turns out, he’s just getting it out of his system before he sees his little sister again. (Or: Marinette gloms onto Red Hood after her parent’s death, and there’s no way anyone can stop her from being with her older brother.)

___________________________________________________

Jason Todd, AKA Red Hood, is not the kind of man people go to when they want to complain about their life problems. They go to him when they want a quick, oftentimes violent solution; Red Hood isn’t exactly a renowned empath. In comparison to his other Bat Family counterparts, he is at least 10 times more crass and almost 15 times more violent.

It is accepted that although Red Hood makes situations turn out for the better, he is no shining paragon of human virtue and kindness. People trust him to watch their backs and not to fuck them over so long as they’re working within his very clearly defined set of values, but he’s just not the kind per person that anyone would entrust their kid to during their Friday date night.

Until somebody does.

The door to the warehouse is already open, and he has a gun in his hand, ready to threaten the little crowd he’s gathered today when a woman hops out of her car and shoves a pig-tailed girl with wide blue eyes and an almost blindingly neon pink outfit towards him.

“There you are, you weren’t at the drop site!” says the woman, who instantly begins to back away from the two of them once the little girl picks herself up off the ground that she landed on. Red Hood notes the license of the getaway car, making a mental reminder to deal with them later, but the car makes tracks. The little girl frowns at the disappearing car, eyes the gun in his hand, then decides that she’s going to stay put.

Red Hood looks at the rabble that has convened in the warehouse, down at the little girl, then back again. There are at least five people in the room that are eyeing the little girl greedily, and he’s sure that if he just lets her go, she’ll be captured by one of them faster than he can bat an eye. He doesn’t exactly have time to put the girl in a safe place, not when it’s taken him months and a good number of heads in order to draw these people here.

She looks wary of the gun and of him, but not scared. Everyone else? Half of them look like they’re about to burst out laughing, and the other half have looks that he’s eager to wipe off their faces.

“Aww, look at that! Hood has finally found his way into the dark side of the business. What’s next, prostitution?”

Without hesitation, he shoots with deadly accuracy at the man’s hand. The man keels, bending over and clenching his bloodied appendage. Other than the man’s screams, the room goes completely silent.

Red Hood casts another glance at the little girl, who has, slowly but surely managed to inch away from him and into a safer position. She’s holding onto her sparkly purple plastic backpack like it’s the only thing that’s keeping her alive. Smart kid, not to run. Or was it dumb? He wouldn’t shoot her, and he’d take out anyone else who tried to, but the girl didn’t know that. She probably just assumed that she was going to his next target.

“All of you shut up while I deal with this.” He inhales deeply and kneels down to get on eye level with the girl. Not that she can see much of his eyes, given his helmet, but still.

He has half a mind to go after the woman, but he’s not about to leave the little girl amongst the group of criminals that are gathered in the warehouse with him. Briefly, he wonders how the hell that couple even knew that he was going to be here tonight. He also wonders what he’s going to do with the kid. “What’s your name, kiddo?”

She looks up at him, hands clenched around a plastic pink backpack with some kid’s cartoon on the back, then looks out at the people that have gathered. There’s a moment of silence, and Red Hood is sure that she’s weighing her current options. Smart kid. Eventually, she shifts her body weight closer to him, apparently drawing the conclusion that he is the safer option than the other people who are here tonight. Smart kid.

“It’s Marinette, sir.”

No last name. Not sure if that’s a pointed decision to keep her identity at least partially concealed, or just because she doesn’t have one.

“And those weren’t your parents?” It stands to reason that the people in that care aren’t her parents, but he needs to make sure.

Marinette clenches her backpack tighter. “No, sir.”

“Where are they?” He has a sinking suspicion if those weren’t her parents, and she’s not up in tears, asking for a phone to call them, that--

“They’re dead, sir.”

Sometimes, Jason wishes he could be wrong on things like this.

“Then who were they? And don’t call me sir. Too formal.”

“My mom’s... second cousin, I think? I never met her before, but I got sent here anyway.”

One of the men shifts. He’s one of the men who Red Hood pegged as a possible child trafficker. Underneath his helmet, Jason’s eyes narrow. He now has a fairly good idea of how the couple figured out that he was going to be here tonight.

“Do you know how to get back home?”

At that, Marinette's mouth almost twitches up into a smile. “No sir. I don’t think there’s a home to go back to, anymore.”

Red Hood sighs. Putting the information presented to him together, he quickly comes to the conclusion that Marinette’s parents have died recently and that nobody in her immediate family has found out about their passing, or they don’t want her. Somehow, the couple picked her up-- possibly when she was going to a friend’s house, judging by the whole school girl look she has going on-- and thought she would fulfill the trafficking requirements laid out to them.

That means that there aren’t a lot of options available to her. He can redirect her to the foster care system, but everybody knows foster care messes up kids permanently. Even though she looks to be pretty street smart, he couldn’t just let her live out on the streets in good conscience. Her outfit looks too clean for her to ever have lived in poverty, and she definitely checks the box for a lot of the trafficking rings that have been popping up recently. Mixed descent, the possibility to be pretty when older, and very, very pure. She’d get picked up off the streets within hours if she just let her be.

He decided that he’s let her have the final say. “What do you think I should do in this situation?”

She shuffled her pink ballet clad shoes, eyes darting to the sides. He had to give the girl this much at least; even though she had the whole innocent look going for her, she was very aware of her surroundings. Her body language implied that she didn’t believe him to be that much of a threat— and in any other case, he’d fault her for that, but given that let their surroundings were a drug den he’d let it go— and tilted herself so she could have as many people in her sights as possible. “Sir, I think as long as you could get me out of here safely, I’ll figure out how to take care of myself.”

The man Jason was watching, the possible trafficker, tensed. Yeah, Jason is definitely going to have to take care of him later. This kind of a reaction as good as cements the suspicions he’s had.

“Tell you what, princess. Do you mind waiting outside for me? I’ll help you out once I’m done here.”

Marinette eyed the rest of the room. “How long will you take?”

She’s asking all the right questions. Maybe it will be easy for her to fit into the slums of Gotham.

“Not long,” Red Hood promised. “Ten minutes at most.”

The collection of people who have gathered in the warehouse all swallowed uncomfortably. Everybody knew that when Red Hood dealt with things quickly, it typically ended in copious amounts of bloodshed and shock.

“Okay,” Marinette paused, grip loosening on her backpack. “Ten minutes.

Red Hood doesn’t particularly want to have Marinette around for the violence that’s about to occur, but she’s already seen him shoot one person, so it’s too late to shield her innocence. And violence? It’s a slippery slope.

He makes quick work of the room; half of the people he brought out here, he kills off directly. The other half are made to watch as the people they’ve associated with for years die in front of their eyes. This is a power play. A way to… persuade them to reform. Because the people he’s left alive? Red Hood has left them alive for two reasons. One. They’re not nearly as bad as most of the higher ups in Gotham. Two. If he kills all of the people who have dabbled in anything bad, the chain will be completely messed up, and there will be too much room for unknown variables to make their way up the ranks. He wants people he can control. And the people he’s left alive? He can keep all of them in line.

Marinette is not waiting outside for him. They’re right next to Crime Alley. This is not going to end well.

He’ll give the little girl props for somehow managing to avoid his detection.

To be more precise, he’s hoping that she’s simply avoiding his detection, and hasn’t gotten swept up in something bad.

It takes Jason three hours-- three hours-- to find the girl who can’t be much older than ten. Probably not even ten, judging by her size.

“You’re lucky it’s me finding you, and not someone else, Pixie.” He finally catches a glance of her glaringly sparkly backpack, complete with fairies and unicorns covered in some sort of holographic overlay.

Marinette immediately backs up, looking definitively worse for the wear. She’s gained rips in her clothes and a nasty looking scraped knee. Her face loses all color when she sees him. “S- sorry, sir. I swear I wasn’t running away, it’s just that there was someone outside who tried to grab me, and--”

If Jason didn’t know better, he’d believe the girl.

However, he does have a decent number of connections, and those connections ensured that nobody was going to be able to come near the warehouse once his ‘meeting’ started. Though, he’ll have to have a talk with them, given that someone tried to pass the goods right before it started. Jason is fairly sure that the couple has been apprehended by now, but checking later tonight won’t hurt.

Which means Marinette made the decision to run.

Again, that would have been a very, very smart decision had she not found herself in Crime Alley of all places. It looks like she’s learned a little bit about why she should stay away from places like this.

“It’s fine, Pixie. Like I said earlier, just call me Red Hood, or Hood. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Marinette balks.

Jason sighs. “Look, I know it’s hard to believe, but you can trust me. I’m not going to force you to do anything you don’t want to do. All I want is to see you safe.”

“But,” Marinette bites her lip. Her eyes drop to the guns at his side. That’s… that’s a good reason not to trust him, to be honest. If he were in her position, he’d already be running.

“Do you have anyone you can contact? Anyone you trust? I can take you to them.”

She’s starting to tear up, and god, Jason cannot deal with crying children. Marinette’s big, blue eyes and pigtails and her general smallness. He just can’t. “Please don’t cry. Please don’t cry. What, do you-- do you want a cookie or something? I can bring you to a bakery before we talk? Sweets are supposed to cheer kids up, right?”

Marinette lets out a watery laugh.

“I like macaroons,” she offers.

“So, how old are you?”

In the warmth of the bakery, Marinette looks markedly more relaxed. She went to the bathroom to clean her face and cut off, and now she looks like the poster child of one of those band aid ads. Lively, a little mischievous, and, you know, a child.

She takes a delicate bite of the shortbread cookie-- not a macaroon, there aren’t many reputable bakeries in Gotham that are close and have French pastries. “Nine and a half.”

Oh man, she’s younger than Replacement.

“You’ve really got no family here? None at all? No friends you can call?”

“No, I’m from France.”

Well, that certainly answers a lot of questions. But brings up additional ones. “You speak English very well.”

“Maman and Papa ran a very popular bakery. We got a lot of foreigners. Before we moved to Paris, we lived in New York.” She takes a sip of her drink, whipped cream stuck on her nose. “And I don’t remember anyone from New York. We moved to Paris when I was three.”

Jason sighs. “What do you want to do?”

“Maman said that if I were ever left on my own, my only job was to survive by any means.”

“That’s…” He tries to find the right words. “Interesting advice.”

In what parallel universe do parents of a bakery in Paris-- one of the major cities in the world with the lowest crime rates--tell their children to survive by any means?

“Did she tell you how?”

Marinette tilts her head, pigtails bouncing. “She told me to trust my instincts and never to trust the police.”

Great. That explains why she didn’t ask for someone’s phone to call the police. Not that the police in Gotham are the best people to go to for a case like Marinette’s, but then again, there’s not really anybody good to go to for a case like hers.

Vague advice is the best way to get a kid killed. But since Marinette isn’t already dead, it stands to reason that her instincts haven’t failed her yet, and he really does have no clue what to do with her.

He briefly contemplates taking her to Bruce, but strikes the idea down almost instantly. Marinette fits all of the requirements to become a Robin. Tragic backstory, black hair, blue eyes. He’s not going to put another child into Bruce’s hands just so he can ruin their life by not doing his job. Besides, Bruce doesn’t know he’s alive yet, and he wants to keep it that way for now.

“Then what do your instincts tell you to do?”

Does he feel like an idiot for asking a nine year old that? Yes, but what else is he supposed to do? Taking care of kids was never part of the job description when he signed up to be Red Hood. (Then again, it wasn’t like there was a job description to begin with.)

Marinette takes another bite of one of the cookies on her plate. “They tell me to stick close to you.”

Even better. She’s imprinted on him.

@jasonette-july-2k20

#you bet your ass marinette grows up to kick ass and take names #does the summary fit the fic? not really but none of my summaries do #jasonette july #jasonette #how do you tag platonic ships #platonic!jasonette #jason todd #marinette dupain cheng #maribat #miraculous ladybug #dcu #innocence #child!marinette

1K notes · View notes

pascalscenarios · 3 years ago

Text

SAFE HOUSE (Dave York)

SAFE HOUSE

Bodyguard! Dave York x Reader

Words:

Warning: Mentions of Physical Violence/ Altercation, Blood, Death/murder

Authors Note: I know the gif is of Zach but lets just pretend it’s Dave LOL ... It’s late I should be doing hw but I needed to write another chapter gahhhh - K

CHAPTER 3

“Dave?” you stood in the doorway of the office space in the safe house. Dave was doing work on the desktop computer. You stood there drying your hair with a towel. You had just taken a shower

“Hmm?” he says not looking at you, his eyes glued to the screen as he types, dragging and clicking the mouse around.

After breakfast early this morning, Dave went right to work trying to figure out who was after you. He had contacted your father and let you talk to him briefly.

Dave had sent you away after that so he could talk to your father in private. As for you, you didn’t do much. You explored the different rooms of the house and napped and watched TV.

You hated that you couldn’t be much help to Dave. Here you are lounging around while Dave does research and investigate.

You knew he wasn’t going to stop until he found what he was looking for. “You’ve been in here all day”

He didn’t say anything. His focus on the screen, like tunnel vision.

“I think you should call it a night” you fiddle with the towel in your hand

“I don’t have time for breaks”

“Dave...You’re going to burn out...It’s starting to get late. I made dinner, come and eat”

“Sweetheart, I’m not going to burn out. I’ve worked long and late hours, days even. I’m fine”

Usually hearing him call you sweetheart, you’d be agitated, but hearing him say it made you feel oddly different this time.

“I want you to be with me”

That makes him look up at you.

You begin to stutter “ Uh I-I mean like hang out with you...You know, eat dinner...be in each other's company. I know we’re still in the same house but I-” “You don’t wanna be alone” he cuts you off.

You blush, slightly embarrassed that you need him around you know. The old you would do absolutely anything to be away from Dave.

This was a bad idea. You gotta suck it up. You can be on your own, Stop being so needy and clingy! you told yourself.

“Never mind, just forget it. There’s spaghetti on the stove when you’re ready to eat-”

“Wait” He shuts down the computer and gets up from the desk. Pushing the desk chair in. He makes his way over to you, standing in front of you.

A smile appears on your face. Happy that he decided to call it a night.

“Spaghetti huh?”

“Yeah, with meatballs”

…

“Thanks for making dinner. I haven’t had Spaghetti in a while” Dave says as he washes the last dish. You're standing beside him, drying off the dishes he washed.

“It’s the least I could do. You made breakfast for me this morning, so I made dinner”

Dave hands you the dish. You take the rag, wiping the water off the ceramic. Dave takes the other dishes that you already dried off and placed them in a cabinet. You stand on your tippy-toes as you set the dish with the others. Dave shuts the cabinet closed right after.

You’re both standing in the kitchen in silence.

“Do you wanna watch a movie or something?” you asked “sure”

The two of you made it to the living room. You grabbed the remote to the flatscreen Tv off the coffee table and plopped yourself down on one side of the couch. Dave sat on the other side of the couch. There was a huge space between the two of you.

You turn on the TV and begin to flip through the channels. You gasped in excitement as you saw a cute little cartoon mouse and a cat wreaking havoc around a kitchen, making a mess as they ran around.

Dave cringes his face as stays on this channel. He looks over to you giving you a judgemental look “Tom and Jerry? Really? What are you five? Change the channel” He says, leaning to grab the remote from your hands. You move the remote away from him.

“Hey! Stop the Tom and Jerry slander, you hater! I used to watch this all the time when I was little. My grandmother introduced it to me.”

“I’ve never seen it”

“What?! Oh, we’re so watching it! How have you never seen Tom and Jerry? God, your childhood must have sucked ass. Tom and Jerry are hilarious!”

Dave groans, sinking himself into the sofa. He would rather watch something but if that's what you wanted. He’s gonna have to put up with it.

The two of you sat there in silence. Here and there your giggle would ring out, laughing at something Tom or Jerry did. Dave liked the sound of your laughter and giggling. He found it slightly cute how something so cheesy could make you lose it. Clearly, your humor was broken.

Tom and Jerry's relationship sorta reminded me of the two of you. Tom and Jerry had an odd relationship. They didn't get along, always going after each other, but there were moments where they found common ground. And although their relationship was rocky, they did care for each other, whether they like to admit it or not.

Dave liked where you guys were at, surprisingly. It’s a terrible thing for you to go through what you did. Almost getting kidnapped and killed, but he felt like this ordeal has brought you guys closer. It’s brought you closer in ways both of you can't explain. Something was staring. Neither of you really know what it is yet. But as he told you, it was you and him, in this together.

“Why are you so far away?” You say.

“What do you mean?”

“You're on the opposite end of the couch...You can move closer you know. I don’t have cooties”

Dave doesn’t move. He wants to move closer, but he’s almost afraid too. His job is to protect you, keep you safe. Not get all snuggly and cozy.

Dave sat with his right arm on the backside of the sofa, sitting with one leg crossed. You closed the space between the two of you by moving yourself into his right side. You lean your body, resting your head against his chest, your legs tucked under you.

Without thinking, Dave moves his arms from behind the couch to your body. His hand slowly rubbing your arm.

It was soothing. Your eyes slowly start to feel heavy.

He hasn’t realized you were doing it until a little while longer when you had fallen asleep.

Dave grabs the tv remote from your hands, shutting the tv off. He scoops your sleeping body into his arms and takes you upstairs into the master bedroom. He places you down on the bed, the move the covers around so he could get it I’ve your body.

He whispers your name

“Hmm?” You mumble, slightly waking up

“I’m going to bed. Wake me up if you need me”

“Okay” you whispered back “Goodnight” …

“Get up!” You heard a voice scream at you. You were dragged out of bed and onto the floor. You didn’t know what was happening, disoriented from being awoken abruptly. The person yelling at you wasn’t Dave.

You looked up to see one of the masked men hovering above you. Your eyes widen. How did they find you?

They gripped your arm, yanking you up to stand. This was the aggressive masked man. The one who threatened to put a bullet through your head.

Your fight or flight began to surge through you. Without thinking, you being to fight your way free from his grasp.

“DAVE!” You screamed

“Knock it off!” With the gun in his hand, he hits you in the side of the head. You help out in pain, the force making you drop to the floor. Your hand reaches your head. You pull your hand away noticing the bloodstain your hand.

“Get up! Let's go!” The masked man pulls you up again, pulling you into him. He holds the barrel to your head as he leads you out of the room.

As you stand at the top of the stairs, you see Dave standing right below, pointing his gun towards the two of you.

The masked man pushes the barrel to your temple

“Let them go!” Dave yells

“You have a two options here pal”

“I’m not playing your fucking game- let them go NOW!”

“Either you let them go with me or I kill you”

“Not happening”

“Dave-“

“Shut up!” The guy yells in your ear making you flinch. You felt your tears fall. You hadn’t realized you were crying.

“The choice is yours”

Dave stands his ground. Not moving an inch. He grips his gun tightly.

“Alright guess we’re gonna have to kill you”

Out of nowhere, you see the other masked man come up behind him.

“DAVE!”

But it was too late. Two shots rang out. Dave dropped to the floor. He didn’t move. Blood quickly seeped from his head onto the hardwood floor You began to sob, whimpering and calling out to him. You begged him to get up.

You hysterically cried as the man lead you down the stairs. You couldn't peel your eyes away from Dave. You felt so helpless. you couldn’t do anything to help him or save him. He’s dead because of you.

The man shoved you down. You laid next to Dave. Your lip quivered as his lifeless eyes stared at your bloodshot eyes. The two men stood over you.

“You’re next”

a pop rang out

You gasp, jolting awake. You frantically sit up in bed, your hands feeling over your body. You look beside you. Dave’s lifeless body wasn’t next to you. You weren’t at the bottom of the stairs like you thought you were. You were in your bed. It took you a minute to realize that it was only a dream. None of it was real. You were alive. You were safe.

Dave

You get out of bed, rushing over to your door. You quickly made it down the hall and open the door to Dave’s room. Cracking it open, you see Dave sleeping soundly. He was laying on his side, his body facing you.

You sigh in relief knowing he was okay. You let yourself in, shutting the door. You made your way over to the bed. You pull back the covers and lay on your side facing him.

He groggily says your name as he begins to stir awake

“Are you alright? Are you hurt?” his voice was deep and raspy from being asleep for a while.

You didn't say anything. A tear slid down your face and you sniffled. His hand moves over to your cheek wiping your tears away. “What’s wrong? Talk to me”

You sniffled again. “I had a nightmare...” He didn’t say anything. Letting you speak at your own time

“They came after us” Dave atomically knew who you were talking about. You didn't need to explain.

“They found us, Dave. They killed you in front of me. They killed me moments after...It felt so real”

His hand moved down your arm and holds your hand.

“You’re okay and I’m okay...It was only a dream. We’re safe”

His thumb rubs over the back of your hand, soothing you.

“Shhh, It’s okay...try to get some sleep. I’m right here...I’m right here”

MT: @icanbeyourjedi @sara-alonso @greeneyedblondie44 @hb8301 @alberta-sunrise @spacenerdpascal @ryleyrooroo @reader-s-cantina @nikkixostan @mindidjarin @evyiione

#The Equalizer 2 #Dave York x reader #Dave York #pedro #Pedro Pascal

39 notes · View notes

mersuperwholocked-lowlife · 4 years ago

Text

Back To Normal

Word Count: 2,154

Characters: Dean Winchester, John Winchester, Sam Winchester, Bobby SInger (brief), Reader

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Sister!Reader

Warnings: angst, small fluff, mentions of past abuse

A/N: idek what to say but hi i guess

A/N 2: Reader is like 2 years older than Dean

Masterlist

You walked to your parents’ room in the middle of the night, the house dark. It was probably around 2 but that didn't stop you from going to your dad, tugging on his arm.

“(Y/N)? What are you doing up, kiddo?” he asked softly, frowning as he turned the light on.

“What’s going on?” Mary sat up, looking at you cautiously.

“I had a bad dream, daddy. Can I sleep with you?” you wiped your eyes, yawning slightly as you continued to hold onto John’s hand.

“Of course you can, come on, let’s go to bed,” he lifted you up, wrapping his arms around you in a protective manner as he turned the lights off.

You continued holding onto his arm, falling asleep.

---

You shot up, hearing someone yelling as you quickly got out of bed, running to Dean.

“Dean, wake up!” you shook him slightly, as he looked at you, confused.

“Daddy’s yelling!” you said, holding his hand as the two of you ran out of your shared room, seeing a bright light coming out of Sam’s nursery.

“Daddy? What’s wrong?” you walked into the room, screaming as you saw the horrendous sight, your mother somehow pinned to the ceiling, blood dripping out of her stomach as the ceiling around her caught on fire.

“(Y/N)! (Y/N), take Sam and Dean out! Now!” he placed your six-month-old brother in your hand, as you held onto him tightly, holding Dean’s hand with your free hand.

You ran out of the house, watching flames coming out of the window.

“It’s gonna be okay, De,” you said softly.

You felt John’s arms wrap around the three of you, pulling you away to safety, watching your house envelop in flames.

---

“Again, (Y/N),” John handed you the gun, as you scratched your arm nervously, before picking it up.

You unloaded, then reloaded the gun, turning the safety off, then back on.

“38 seconds. You need to do it in under 15,” you nodded your head softly, listening to John.

“Yes, sir,” you replied, your voice low.

“I’m going to go out. Watch Sam and Dean,” before you could reply, he grabbed his jacket, slamming the door shut as you flinched slightly, before resting your head on your hands.

---

“Dean, can you help me out here?” you asked, rubbing your head.

“Sam doesn't listen to me either,” he shrugged. He flipped on the TV, watching some sort of cartoon as you groaned, turning back to Sam.

“Sam, you have to do your homework and you have to eat your dinner. Now,” you tried not to raise your voice, clearly annoyed by both of them.

“No, I don’t want to. I wanna watch TV with Dean,” he crossed his arms, frowning.

“After you do all your work,” you sighed.

“How come Dean doesn't have to do his work? Or eat his dinner?” Sam crossed his arms as you clenched your jaw, digging your nails into your palm.

I hate them both

“Dean already finished all his work! Sam, I’m serious!” you groaned.

Every day seemed to go like this. One or both of them would choose not to listen to you, getting you more irritated and stressed. You still had a huge amount of homework to do, half of which you could barely understand, and instead of doing it, you were trying to get Sam to listen. As usual.

“Dean didn’t do his homework!” Sam screamed as you winced, his shouting giving you a headache.

“He’s lying! I did it!” Dean shot up, pointing his finger at Sam.

Before you could say anything, both brothers started screaming at each other, leaving you with a headache.

“Enough!” you turned off the TV, pulling Dean to the table.

“Both of you shut up and do your homework! Now!” you yelled.

Sam sniffled, immediately looking down.

Great, now he’s crying

“Dude, you made him cry,” Dean looked up at you.

“Shut up, Dean. Do your work,” you rolled your eyes, before turning to Sam.

“You’re mean,” Sam said, his voice low.

“And you're a brat. Here’s a pencil,” you handed it to him, watching as the two of them tended to their homework.

---

“Dad,” you started softly.

He simply glared at you, before looking back at the road.

The two of you rode back to the hotel, where Sam and Dean were.

“Dad, I’m sorry,” you started.

“Shut up, (Y/N),” he snapped.

He left for a hunt, again. Leaving you with Sam and Dean, again. Leaving you with barely enough money to feed one of you, let alone three. You saw your only option was to steal. You didn't like it but you had no choice. Sam began to come down with a fever, and he needed medicine.

“You didn't leave us with… Sam was sick,” your voice broke as your heart began to race out of fear for what was going to happen to you.

“He’s fine now,” you looked at John nervously before running your fingers through your hair.

The rest of the ride remained silent, before approaching the hotel room. It was empty.

You turned to John, your eyes widening as you contained your panic.

You weren't allowed to be weak in front of John.

“They’re at Bobby’s. You’re with me for the week,” he threw his bag onto the floor as you flinched, trying your hardest to maintain this weekend.

You already knew that the worst was yet to come.

---

“Hey, are you okay?” your head shot up, as you opened your eyes, looking at Dean.

“No, I mean, yeah, I’m fine, sorry,” you shook your head, smiling softly at your younger brother.

“Sam’s passed out. Do you wanna watch a movie or something?” he asked, sitting next to you on the floor.

Dean graduated high school, spending more and more time with you and John, seeing what John does to you. You prayed that he wouldn't witness any of it but lately, none of your prayers seemed to help anything. You currently sat there with a black eye, saying it was from a hunt, but Dean knew otherwise.

“No, it’s fine,” you sighed, keeping your voice down.

The two of you sat in the dark, as Dean rested his head on your shoulder.

“I’m sorry for being such a bitch when I was younger,” he said softly.

“Oh, don't be. If it makes you feel any better, Sam was worse,” you laughed softly.

“I can't believe you dealt with us,” he shook his head.

“Well, why wouldn't I? You’re still my brother. Come on, you should get to bed,” you said.

“Are you going to sleep?” he asked.

“No, I need to watch over you guys,” you shook your head.

“That’s ridiculous. I’m not going to sleep till you do,” he crossed his arms.

“Well then, looks like you’re not getting any sleep tonight,” you turned, looking at him.

“Then so be it,” he continued to rest his head on your arm, as you scoffed before you continued to stare at the door.

You could feel Dean falling asleep, hearing him snoring. You pressed your lips against his forehead, stroking his hand softly.

---

“Oh my god!” you shot up in the bed, clenching your jaw as you held in your screams, feeling pain emit throughout your body.

“(Y/N)!” Sam and Dean ran to you, as you winced before they backed away.

“What happened?” you whispered.

Your arm was wrapped up in bandages, a sling on your shoulder. Your forehead was covered in bandages, scratches all over your body.

“What do you remember?” Dean asked.

You looked up at them, seeing tears in their eyes.

“The demon… yellow eyes… where’s Dad?” you asked softly.

“He sold his soul for Dean,” Sam whispered a reply.

Your eyes watered as you felt a shiver over your body.

You sniffled, wiping your tears as you looked at Dean.

“I-It’s gonna be okay,” you said softly, wrapping your arm around Sam and Dean.

“It's gonna be okay.”

---

“(Y/N), it’s 3 AM,” Bobby walked into his study room, sitting down in front of you.

The three of you finished a hunt nearby, crashing at Bobby’s for the night.

He offered you a beer, as you took it from him.

“Do you have anything to say, kid?” he asked you.

“No, I want to sit here and drink this beer in silence, please,” you sighed.

“What is it with you Winchesters never showing any damn emotion?” he raised his voice slightly as you sighed.

You ran your fingers through your hair, resting your arm on the table.

“Why won’t you go to bed?” he asked.

“Bye, Bobby,” you pushed out of your seat, grabbing your jacket.

“The hell do you think you're doing, young lady?” he immediately crossed his arms, standing in front of the door.

“I’m going out. I’ll see you in the morning,” you walked past him, leaving his house.

---

You sat in the driver’s seat, hearing Dean yelling at you.

“I don’t…” you hiccupped.

“I don’t know why you’re so mad,” you shrugged, laying back in the seat.

“You’re not driving, you’re drunk. Scoot over,” Dean crossed his arms.

“I’m not drunk, you’re drunk. And bossy,” you laughed, nearly falling off your seat as Dean forcibly pushed out over, sitting in the driver’s seat.

“It’s been a month of this crap. When was the last time you even slept?” Dean asked.

“I don’t like to sleep,” you looked out the window, watching all the trees passing by.

Something about the trees seemed to mesmerize you, as you yawned, blinking your eyes.

“Why don’t you like to sleep?” Dean asked.

Within 20 seconds, you fell onto Dean as he groaned, looking at you completely passed out.

“(Y/N),” Dean said, pushing you off of him.

“(Y/N),” he repeated.

Your head fell against the window, as Dean listened to your breathing, making sure you didn't just die on him.

It had been a month of that. Ever since John died, you barely slept, spending all your time on either hunts or in a stranger’s bed, completely drunk.

Dean followed you, stopping whatever person was hitting on you and took your joke, slightly disappointed, slightly feeling pity for you.

Something happened to make you like this, and all he wanted was you back to normal.

His face softened, looking at your shaking figure. He took his jacket off, laying it on you before continuing to look forward at the road.

---

“We need to talk,” Dean sat at the edge of your bed, as you sat up, rubbing your head.

He handed you a glass of water and some aspirin. You silently thanked him, before clearing your throat.

“What's the problem?” you asked.

“You,” he replied.

“Excuse me?” you raised an eyebrow.

“One month. Since Dad died. Since you changed completely. You go out every night when we’re not hunting, don’t try to lie to me and tell me that you’re getting sleep because I know damn well that you’re not. We’re worried about you and we want our sister. We lost Dad, we don’t want to lose you too,” your eyes watered slightly as you looked at Dean.

You knew he was right. You felt shame immediately, knowing that John was looking at you, disappointed. From above or below. You weren't even taking care of Sam and Dean.

“I’m sorry,” you replied.

“I don’t want an apology. I want you back to normal,” you ran your fingers through your hair, blinking back your tears as you sniffled.

Just tell him, it’ll have to come out sooner or later

“I’ve just been… I’ve been having nightmares about Dad,” you sniffled.

His face softened, as he scooted closer to you.

“Why didn't you tell me?” he asked softly.

“It’s not your problem to worry about,” you rested your head on your lap.

“Not my problem? (Y/N),” he started.

“You don’t understand, Dean. Please, just go,” you closed your eyes, feeling a tear streaming down your cheek.

He wrapped his arms around you tightly, as you held him.

“Dad’s gone. H-He’s dead. He can’t hurt you anymore, you don’t have to keep putting up a shield and blocking out everyone and everything,” you held back your cries as you buried yourself into Dean’s arms.

“I know,” you whispered.

“He can’t do anything to you ever again,” Dean’s voice was shaky, you could feel his tears.

“I’m sorry, Dean,” you cried softly.

“You have nothing to be sorry for. I-I’m sorry I wasn't here for you sooner,” you stroked his cheek softly, sniffling as you smiled at him softly.

“I love you, kiddo,” you said.

“I love you too, (Y/N/N),” he replied, laying down next to you.

“Sam’s out doing nerdy stuff with Bobby. What do you say to a movie or two?” he looked up at you.

“Yeah, sure,” you stroked his hair softly, turning the TV on.

218 notes · View notes

unknowconcreteflower-art-blog-me · 4 years ago

Text

Re-contextualizing Angel Dust: Charlie was not ready for this...

And for the sake of warning Hazbin Hotel is an adult cartoon containing heavy dark subject matter (such as rape and drug abuse, that maybe trigger to views so please tread carefully. Warning out of the way on with the post! I also just wanna get this out there older post my analysis of Val and Angel people kept commenting “what Angel Dust isn’t in love with Valentino” and my rebuttal was “no no that’s a past Angel Dust a younger one who didn’t reach that level of abuse just yet” while their argument was “no it’s the current Angel Dust” which can’t be the case. To prove my point I would like to refer back to the comics and the music video and looking at it with the context of the show. And please read my previous post if you want more explanation on Addict.

I just want to start off with explaining his relations to Cherri, needless to say Cherri is someone who Angel sees as a true friend and confines in her. And she is there for him as he is for her even willing to fight for her knowing well that he will get in trouble for it. Though one has to wonder why is there such this deep love and care for each other. Looking back to Addict, where we have Cherri singing her “Yeah you fell in love and you fell deeper in this pit...” and several times we have an unknown character pop up during her part of the song. With the little snip bits of info we get from the sequence we can tell that Cherri is in the line of work because of someone who’s over her head. And what they have over is an emotional hold over her if we want to lean in on what the lyrics it might in a romantic sense be we still don’t know who it is tho. So what makes this so important to Angel Dust.

This is because she herself is in the similar situation as Angel as in the both of us are trapped in the holes we dug ourselves into. Giving Angel someone who can understand the stuff he’s going through. Cherri knows why he’s acting out because he’s just trying to hide how hurt he really is cause” hey so does she”. And knows she doesn’t have to say anything but just be there; and takes him out on a night out with her when he’s down. That’s why Cherri is so important to him she’s someone he know that’s not going to look down on him or patronize him on his actions. And his number 1# go to person; which is why he probably reveal to her that he wants to get clean because hey that’s what binds them together... This connects why he broke streak and his stopped his sobriety.

During the opening scene of the show we have Valentino texting Angel to do work right after the extermination. Which I also have to point out that Val showing a lack of care for Angel safety after the extermination. He clearly wants his money and is making Angel put himself out there for work. And what does he do after he’s done with the job; he falls back on drugs. Now this is important to note... remember during the News broadcast Charlie confirmed that Angel was clean for 2 weeks before all of this happened! He was doing so well what could have possibly made him break his streak-Valentino.

People were theorizing Val gave drugs to his employees meaning Val isn’t only his pimp but supplier as well! Giving the reason why Angel stayed with Val for so long; when I did my analysis of the music video Addict I said Val maybe the first one to find Angel when he first came to hell. Manipulating Angel in a weakened state to view him as a sort of savior and made him forget his sorrows and how did this happen you may ask... “drugs” using sweet words to mask his hidden agenda. So Val basically trained hims like a dog on a leash in a sense of “you’ll get a love & affection with a treat” which translates to “if you do this job for me I’ll give you all the love you were denied when you were alive as along with the drugs you’ve been craving”. I will argue that Val made Angel even more dependent on drugs; because he made it his number one coping method he’s the enabler. After Angel was assaulted and raped by Valentino probably made it even worse for him because Val’s his boss, he goes to work he has to see him... triggering him to fall back on to drugs. That’s why Angel needs his drugs and needs to numb himself, so him breaking his streak clean after taking a job from Val wasn’t coincidence back then.

“he’a been behaved, clean and out of trouble for 2 weeks now” until Val got to him...

This makes Val even more dangerous to Angel’s road to recovery than we could have ever imagined. No only that but it makes it difficult to tell someone about it as well Angel is afraid of him and has to stay in contact with him since he’s his employer. This would be good time to bring up my rebuttal for my case of Addict: I get. I identified that the Angel Dust in the beginning of the music video is a younger one that still has some love for before figured out he was using him and he stood up to Val (pre-trauma). And the Angel Dust at the end credits of the music video and the one in the comic is the current Angel Dust and show (post-trauma). When you look at the interactions with Val (via comic vs music video) they are clearly different hence the two different Angel Dusts!

I will be referring to the comics in this section so if you haven’t read them please do.

When Angel is in the limo with Val he’s trying to make it very apparent that he’s upset that he’s not getting any attention from Val. Being very huffy and puffy not even looking at him as Val’ counting his money, forgetting that he’s right there. This is very important because Angel doesn’t hesitate to hide his emotions, this Angel is willing to show discontentment in front of Val being angry and annoyed at him which leads up to why he doesn’t kiss want him and outright rejects him. He shows he’s willing to fight back against Val’s mistreatment and neglect of him, becoming more aware of it. In my earlier post I deduced this scene is where Angel first time he’s disobeyed Val and finally gets the full picture he understands he doesn’t mean anything to Val and he’s using him. He’s no longer willing to put up with his mind games anymore and probably would have left Val that night... which is why he raped him to gain control over Angel.

Music video vs. Comic scene

Now looking at the interactions Angel Dust has with Val are completely different he’s submissive to Valentino when we see his conversation in the limo. Not only that but it shows why Angel Dust went on that drug deal for Val; to show him he can do something else other than being a sex-worker. Angel wants out and this was his way of giving himself another option but Val shuts it down completely! Even before he entires, he’s holding his arm in fear and discomfort, even when he’s trying to plead his case he is terrified. He’s no longer willing to fight back because of what Val did to him. And Val reminds him constantly that he could do it again if he wanted to by reminding him of that night! He does this by grabs Angel face when he tries to explain himself, like he did when he forced Angel to kiss. Val forces him to smiles when he leaves the limo he wants him to never show any form of disagreement or disobedience like the last time because that’s what got him in trouble last. To add more salt in the wound he makes him Angel call him “Mister Valentino” reminding him he’s in control! The man is practical holding a gun over Angel saying “the same thing will happen, if you disobey me again...” AND THAT IS SADISTIC AS HELL! It making me hate Val even more and after he leaves the limo all he can do is let out his anger in silence as when he smokes similar to when we see him smoke at the end credits to Addict this Angel is our current Angel Dust. This is his way of expressing his sorrow in silence why he’s an addict.

So you maybe asking how does Cherri bomb come into play, well I don’t think after the initial incident with Val who does Angel confine to Cherri and destroy a bar together. You see the pattern; Angel has a break down, uses his drugs comes off of the high, he goes to Cherri and in turn go out, and have fun well her kind of destructive fun! And it has been confirmed that he learn all about weapons from Cherri so basically this is the reason why! He wasn’t breaking his clean streak “to do his girl buddy a solid” he went because he wanted to be with the only person who could understand him at that time. And she just happened to be in a fight and he jumped in thinking “oh my home girl’s in trouble I gotta help her out...” and that’s probably did out of instinct to protect Cherri. Charlie and Vaggie cut in... now things start to get a little dicey I’m not trying to attack them but they didn’t handle it this best way. They didn’t know anything, and before know Angels story a lot of people are upset with Angel’s action but now that we have context they’re (Charlie & Vaggie) in the wrong.

These are the points of why Angel cannot confine to Charlie or Vaggie, I will also argue that they pushed Angel further from them. Angel is someone who’s very prideful and isn’t going to tell someone that he’s hurt. Unless they figure it out for themselves or feels safe with them (Cherri). Looking back Vaggie & Charlie made a huge “No-No...” and this scene is incredibly painful to watch. Let’s cut to Vaggie how does she address Angel by scolding him for his actions she goes right to the blame game, which is the last thing she should be doing if they really want to help Angel. They don’t even take the chance to ask him why he did it; unintentionally isolating him from help.

What bother me is that Vaggie is quick to call Angel’s actions are a result of being “selfish” which is not the case now that we have context. And probably why Angel just kept trying to piss off Vaggie because he knows that his actions weren’t out of wanting be “selfish”... and makes it clear that he still wants to go clean. It probably actually really hurt him to when she said that and I’d like to point out that people who struggle with addiction it’s not easy to stay clean and people can relapse. Basically what Vaggie did was shamed Angel for relapsing which is not okay and paints him as a bad guy immediately! To say he ruined the image of the hotel ... it made me furious at Vaggie putting all the blame on Angel. And we know that’s not the case even before the fight was broad casted the demons and sinners in Hell were already laughing at Charlie’s idea and let’s be honest it was reasonable. Because WE DON’T KNOW IF IT’S POSSIBLE YET so putting all the blame on Angel Dust was uncalled if anything it’s just the cherry on top. I’m not trying to attack Charlie but she really doesn’t know what she’s doing she doesn’t know how to send a soul into heaven. Is it irresponsible to broadcast a client before they are proven successful, not only that but it puts a lot of pressure on Angel to prove theory that we’re not sure is true yet.

And let’s be honest did Charlie really believe Vaggie’s word’s wouldn’t but hurtful they didn’t even take the time to ask him why he did it; immediately writing him off when clearly somethings going on now she’s painting the image that they don’t care about him, they just care about the hotel, and that they just wanted to use him as a poster boy! Hmm... now who has used Angel Dust in the past for their own personal agenda... oh yeah VALENTINO! Which is why he goes on saying “I made you look sad and pathetic...” he chooses those words not to just make Vaggie mad but that’s probably what he was really feeling on the inside. Angel really did want to apologize to Charlie but after what Vaggie said to him it probably made him feel like his apology meant nothing and leaves these actions carry on into Addict. This is where naivety is her biggest downfall she rushed into it thinking just keeping Angel clean is gonna redeem him she was so not ready to broad cast the hotel. She makes it sound easy but it so much harder than that!

THIS WAS A 100% CALLED FOR! AND SHE DOESN”T EVEN REALIZE IT!

This is why Angel flips off Charlie and doesn’t want to talk to her, he’s basically doing cause “Why should I tell you about my problems you don’t really care you just care about your hotel...” that’s why this is so important to highlight. They already gave him that impression, that they think little of him and that they aren’t going sympathize with him but scold him. And Charlie should have stopped Vaggie yelling when she had the chance. Vaggie sabotaged her chance to understand Angel Dust and help him. And did she really think her temperamental girlfriend was the one to help sympathize and redeem sinners. If she really wants to help Angel Dust she needs to stop thinking it’s gonna be a cupcake walk, people have reasons why they fall to these bad habits; people have issues, relationships, traumas, that they need to navigate before they can heal. Which makes me believe that Charlie isn’t the one who’s going to get Angel Dust to open up to them about his trauma. Vaggie’s out of the question if not then who...

HUSKER

Yup our favorite flying poker kitty... I’ll do a separate post on that because it deserves it’s own explanation! (Side note I really do love Vaggie we don’t know her story so don’t hate her) Hope you guys enjoy the post~

#hazbin hotel #angel dust #valentino #hazbin hotel charlie #vaggie #Cherri Bomb #huskerdust #husker #hazbin husk #hazbin hotel addict #vivziepop

523 notes · View notes

avaritia-apotheosis · 4 years ago

Text

Phantom Children [DP x Batman Crossover] Ch. 1

Disclaimer: It's been a while since I watched DP and the only Batman/DC stuff I've interacted with are B:TAS, the JL cartoons, and what I got from fandom osmosis so don't expect any sort of canon compliance.

In Which: the author takes advantage of the passage of time in Nanda Parbat being wonky and Danny doesn't give up, per se, but is sort of resigned to being stuck with the League of Assassins until further notice.

AO3 | Prologue | [ 1 ] | 2 |

CW for descriptions of non-consensual drug use (if there's anything you guys would like me to tag, please tell me)

-----

WHEN SOMETHING WENT WRONG WITH DANNY’S LIFE, it was usually because of one or two things: Ghosts or Vlad. And considering their truce and how even Vlad wouldn’t go this far (at least, Danny hoped), Danny was kidnapped because of ghosts. Or his association with ghosts.

Though how an organization of ninja-assassins got wind of his ‘unique’ circumstance was beyond him. The shackles they slapped on his wrists were more a formality than anything after the second time he tried to escape them with intangibility. The only reason they managed to get him contained the entire trip from Amity Park to wherever the fuck Nanda Parbat lay was because of the cocktail of drugs they pumped into his system spiked with blood blossoms.

Danny had to give it to them. The League of Assassins might not have any anti-ecto weaponry, but they did their homework.

He barely remembered the trip. He catches flashes—blurry figures and words he couldn’t comprehend. A warm hand holding his, a thumb rubbing smooth circles on the back of his palm and calloused fingers running through his hair.

When he awoke, it was in a room bigger than his bedroom. His ankle was shackled to a bedpost, and the only door leading out was locked. There was a separate room for the bathroom off to the side and a shelf stacked with books decorating the otherwise bare walls, but other than that there wasn’t much else. Not even windows.

Intangibility, he learned, wasn’t an option. The blood blossoms in his bloodstream were still in circulation, rendering his transformation useless. If his nose was right, his captors were pumping blood blossoms from the vents. The sickly sweet of the flower was faint in the cool air, but the slight red haze that persisted in the room was unmistakable.

He tried, regardless. The rings barely made it half-way before his knees buckled and he started retching all over the floor. At least his stomach was empty.

-------

Danny doesn’t know how long he’s been in Nanda Parbat. Time moved differently here. Faster, he thought. He doesn’t really understand how or why, though sometimes he wondered what Clockwork thought of all of this.

(There are times, in the darkness and solitude of his cell, when Danny would call for Clockwork to rescue him. Quietly, so quietly, it was barely even a whisper. But Clockwork would hear it—Danny was sure he would. Clockwork helped him out before, so this time shouldn’t be all that different. But at the end of the night, nothingness would answer him. And Danny had to learn over and over again that even the Ghost of Time had his own rules to follow.)

It had taken a few days and Talia nearly biting the head off of the League’s physician for them to realize that blood blossoms would be an awful way to contain him. Effective at immobilizing him, yes, but the flowers left him about as helpless as Superman in a kryptonite cave.

“It all works out in the end,” Talia would say. “The blossoms were never going to become a long-term solution; you might end up developing an immunity to them given enough exposure.”

Though knowing now what Talia’s ‘long-term plan’ was for making sure Danny didn’t slip through the walls of the headquarters and fly across the ocean, Danny would rather take his chances with the blood blossoms.

Danny might not have been as smart as Vlad, but he was tricky and creative when he needed to be. He knows he’s powerful. And sure, he might forget some of his own abilities every now and then, but that doesn’t mean he can’t use them. In the time he’s been stuck in the Leage’s lair (and coherent), Danny had thought of a dozen escape plans, each one with a high chance of success. If he made an attempt, he could guarantee the League wouldn’t notice until he was a quarter-way across the globe.

Escaping wasn’t the problem. That would be the easy part.

His core burned at the thought of it. And it hurt—as if his entire being was dunked in a vat of dry ice and left to freeze. He hated how he was here and everything that he was protecting was far. Away.

Danny wanted to go home. Wanted to read comic books in his bed, play Doom with Tucker and Sam, sleep in class and make fun of the Box Ghost. He wants to eat his mom’s food, even if there’s a fifty-fifty chance that it would come alive and try to eat him instead. He wants to listen to Jazz try to psychoanalyze his problems. Wants to go fishing with his dad and eat his famous chocolate fudge. Wants to fly above the skies of Amity Park and touch what little he can of the universe before he’s called down again.

Amity Park is his haunt. His Home. The soft hum of the Ghost Portal in the basement a lullaby he’s listened to for so long that sleeping without it was next to impossible. Every fiber of his being craved to go back because how is he supposed to protect Amity if he isn’t there?

But to go back meant sacrificing everyone.

Danny doesn’t risk it.

(The—the last time was an accident. If Danny isn’t—if he isn’t careful, this time it may be an assassination. He refused to have his family’s death on his hands again.)

He has faith in Sam, Tucker, and Jazz to hold down the fort until he could find a way to escape. They’re smart. Smarter than him. They’ll work something out and—in a worst-case scenario, they’ll find a way to shut down the Ghost Portal to stop the ghosts from coming through.

Logic meant nothing to his ghost core, though. The next best thing to do was to drown out his worries with the League’s rigorous education.

Hand-to-hand and weapons combat. Geography. History. Dozens of foreign languages. Poisons and herbology and basic first-aid. His days are packed with new things to learn and to repeat until it’s drilled into his skull so deep he could recite the information in his sleep. (Hyosycamus niger, aka Henbane. Every part is highly toxic and can cause dizziness, stupor, insanity, and eventual death. It’s medicinal uses range from--)

The League demanded perfection. The Demon’s Head demanded even more than that.

Talia oversaw his education. Sometimes, there would be another, older, man by her side, observing his regimen with cold calculation. Whenever that man arrived, Danny’s instructors were always stricter.

His teachers made little effort to interact with him outside of their set schedule, and during his lessons they only ever answer pertinent questions. He supposed there would be other students of the League in Nanda Parbat, but he’s seen neither hide nor hair of them. His rooms (a bedroom + bathroom combo that led out into a large indoor space for training) are separate from everything else.

Danny slept alone, ate alone, and trained alone. And for a boy who has had his two best friends stuck to his side like glue for as long as he could remember, it’s a terribly lonely experience.

His shadow guards don’t count. They might as well be another piece of furniture. Another stone in the wall.

-------

Talia was the only one that broke his new mundane routine, as much as she was the cause of it. She was his only source of companionship in this hell hole; the only one who would really speak to him. And yeah, he knew why that was. Jazz had rambled on enough about Stockholm syndrome to know that this ‘arrangement’ was Talia’s attempts at forging a bond between them. But godit’s just so hard to be stuck inside your own mind all day when. It made him think too much. Worry. (Whatifwhatifwhatifwhatif).

And then—

And then.

Danny had asked Talia a multitude of questions, but only two did she ever answer. Both asked when he was still trying to flush the drug cocktail and the blood blossoms from his system.

The first was when he asked, “Why am I here?” She answered that it was because Ra’s al Ghul, her father, wanted him. He had knowledge the Demon’s Head wanted; powers that Ra’s could only ever dream of. The man was curious—though Talia assured him over and over again that Danny wouldn’t be vivisected and studied for science.

The second answer came right after when Danny asked her “How could you be so sure?”

Talia smiled. Lacquered fingers coming up to brush away the dark strands that fell over his face. Her hands traced the curve of his jaw, cupping his cheeks to raise his eyes to hers. “Because you are my son,” she said, voice honey sweet.

He jerked from her hold.

Burned by it.

“You’re lying,” he spat. “I’m already someone else’s son. Try again.”

Talia let her hands drop to her sides. “You are my son.” She took a step closer towards him. Steady. Firm. “That is why you are here.”

“I don’t believe you.”

A pitying smile. “Be that as it may, you cannot change the truth.” She approached him, slowly backing him against the wall before she reached out to tilt his chin upwards. Some traitorous part of Danny’s mind catalogued her features. Made connections that shouldn’t exist. “I have carried you in my womb, Daniel. You were a part of me for so very long and I loved you more with each passing day. You are of my body and of my blood—not matter how much you may deny it.”

“No.” He pushed her hands away and raked his hands over his hair. “You’re lying.” She must be. They don’t look alike. Not at all. Everyone always said he was his dad’s—Jack Fenton’s—exact copy. Black haired and blue eyed and sharp-jawed. Awkward but well-meaning and with a heart of gold, his mother said. It was once of the facts of life; Danny took after his dad, and Jazz took after their mom. Simple as that.

(There is a memory resurfacing from his early childhood that Danny is desperately trying to repress again. Memories of kids teasing him on the playground, innocently cruel in the way only children can be as they tried to convince him he was adopted. That his skin looked nothing like his parents’. Dusky where his parents and sister were fair. He went home crying to his parents that same day, and they soothed away his worries with hushed words and a well-timed distraction.)

He asked no more questions after that. Talia was lying to him for some reason, and no answer she could give would be trustworthy anyways. What little of him he could see in her was only a figment of his own imagination. His mind playing cruel tricks.

Then his hopes were dashed aside when Talia showed him a picture of his father a day later.

The man in the photo looked like him. Black haired and eyes the same shade of too-bright blue. There were differences, of course. The man in the photograph was fairer, unlike Danny. He was taller and broader where Danny was lean and lanky. But despite this and all the other minute differences, this man who was supposed to be Danny’s biological father looked like him.

The same slant of the brow. The same shape of the eyes. The way the man held himself with this sense of gravitas and power that Danny couldn’t yet do in his awkward teenage years but had seen before. In a monster another man.

Danny’s future self was terrifying in its inhumanity, but it didn’t take that much of an imagination to know that he looked almost exactly like the man in the picture.

#danny phantom #batman #danny phantom x batman crossover #cw; drug use #phantom children.txt

48 notes · View notes

mypoisonedvine · 4 years ago

Text

Love, Theoretically | Sebastian Stan x reader (Chapter 3)

(Chapter 1) (Chapter 2)

series summary: having lost your husband, sister, and best friend all to the same extramarital affair, you ran away to a secluded villa in the Hungarian countryside to write and get a little time away from the life you’d left behind. you were only looking for peace and perhaps some inspiration for your novel, but instead you found an unlikely connection with the immigrant repairman– even though the two of you don’t speak the same language.

word count: 2.5k

warnings: a brief and half-assed description of theoretical male masturbation. that’s it. lol.

moodboard by @evnscvll, if you’re not following her what are you doing with your life???

As the afternoon was just starting to wind down into the evening, you went for a stroll along the side of the lake; it was your new daily routine in this place, and you’d done it every afternoon for the past several days. You found yourself looking for Sebastian outside, and being oddly disappointed when he was nowhere to be found. It took you a bit to appreciate that the strange feelings and behaviors you were exhibiting were a crush. You hadn’t had one in so long, not since you’d met your husband, that you almost forgot what it was like. This one felt particularly childish, exceptionally misguided, as you knew so little about the man. What was it that made you want to be around him anyways? There were plenty of guys you’d met since getting married that were, on paper, worthy of a crush. Successful, kind, good-looking... who knows, maybe if you’d been lonely and desperate and saw one of them hammering nails shirtless in the sun, you’d have been in the same predicament you are now.

And that was exactly why you needed to get your mind off this guy ASAP. You were just projecting your loss onto him. You’d been feeling neglected and unattractive because of everything that had happened with your husband and he had been kind to you. And helpful. And handy in a way your husband had never been. And so devastatingly hot.

He must know, right? you thought to yourself as you took in the scenery, just barely making out grey-ish shadows of mountains in the distance. He must know that he looks like that, and exactly the effect he has on women.

...And a decent portion of men, probably.

The idea of him being overwhelmed with attention of that nature made you feel slightly jealous. He was probably the exact kind of person you weren’t in high school: a heartbreaker. Yes, this was the narrative you needed to keep yourself from falling any further into this crush; you two were sworn natural enemies-- him the heartbreaker, you the heartbroken. A guy like him probably didn’t even give a girl like you the time of day.

Except, he had. He’d been friendly and attentive. Maybe he works for tips or something? Why else would he be giving you any of his energy?

No, that was specifically not the line of thinking you needed at the moment. Does he think about me when I’m not around? Could he think of me as much as I think of him? you found yourself wondering anyways.

Either way, he could never beat me at overthinking, you smiled to yourself. I always win at that one.

You’d almost spent too much time outside; it was nearly too dark to see by the time you made it back to the cottage. Clearly the bustling city had trained you to stay up late, but out here, you had no recourse if the sun set while you were outside without a flashlight.

It was so late, in fact, that Sebastian was nowhere to be found when you passed through the living room— and since he was certainly not working outside with no light to use, you figured he’d gone to bed. By now you knew where his room was, but you’d never seen it. Not that you wanted to. It was none of your business.

Making your way up the stairs, you tried to avoid the creakiest spots in case he was asleep. It wasn’t that late though, he was probably just… doing whatever people do before bed when they don’t have a television. Reading a book, maybe?

You shook your head to no one in particular. You shouldn’t be thinking about him so much. God, having a crush was exhausting.

Oh god, what if he, you know… took care of himself, before bed? It’s a fun way to end the day and wear yourself out for sleep, certainly. You felt your face turning hot just imagining him in such a compromising position. You didn’t even mean to imagine it, it just sort of happened. Maybe right now, just as you were struggling to keep quiet on this rickety old staircase, he was trying to keep quiet as he stroked his cock, the muscles in his arm flexing with each movement, that perfect bottom lip caught between his surprisingly white teeth.

Probably not. But it was a nice thought.

Just as you stepped into your room and shut the door behind you, you thought you saw something in the corner of your eye. Turning to look, you realized that there was a rat running across the floor. With an embarrassingly girlish scream, you ran and jumped on your bed, trying to see where it went while keeping elevated; you know, just in case it tried to run up your leg like in a cartoon or something.

Creaking outside alerted you that someone was running up the stairs. Your door flew open to reveal Sebastian, wearing only pyjama trousers and a very concerned facial expression.

"Este totul în regulă?"

"There's a rat!" you screeched.

"Ce?" he asked with a furrowed brow of confusion.

You tried to explain, but how could you? Pointing to where you saw it last, it was gone, so you turned back-- only to see it running towards him! Screaming again, you pointed to the rodent barreling towards his feet and, finally, he understood.

In fact, he understood your situation better than you realized he would, so much so that he jumped up on the bed with you with a blood-curdling scream of his own.

"Şobolan!" he yelped, and you weren't sure there was room on this bed for two people afraid of rats but here you were anyway.

You both watched it scurry into a corner, and he seemed to relax a little.

"What are we going to do?"

"Stai așa," he said as he raised a finger as if to indicate 'wait', "ma voi intoarce."

He lept from the bed straight to the open doorway and dashed down the stairs. You figured he might come back with a broom or jar, so you were beyond surprised to see him come back with an enormous shotgun, quickly pumping it and bracing the stock against his shoulder.

"Unde este?" he asked quickly, closing one eye to look over the sights.

You nearly screamed your protest. "Jesus, Sebastian! Don't shoot it!"

“Ce vrei sa fac?!” he squawked in reply.

“I don’t know!” you replied. “Just put the gun down!”

He looked a little disappointed but lowered the barrel.

Hearing a squeak and a scurry from the corner of the room, you jumped off of your bed and found yourself hiding behind Sebastian.

“Nu sunt la fel de curajoasă pe cât crezi,” he said as he turned back to look at you.

“I can’t sleep here,” you admitted with a sigh. “We can set a trap in the morning, or hope it escapes on it’s own…” you trailed off, talking mostly to yourself as you made your way back downstairs. Sebastian shut the door quickly with a shudder before following behind you.

You pulled a blanket off of the loveseat as you passed through the living room, dragging it with you to the couch.

“Nu te pot lăsa să dormi pe canapea!” he protested when you laid down and covered yourself with it— after leaning the gun against a wall, thank god. You wondered where it was normally kept for him to have grabbed it so fast.

“I can’t sleep in my room,” you explained.

“Poți să dormi în patul meu,” he announced, pointing down the hall.

“What?”

“Poți să,” he repeated slower, pointing to you, “dormi,” he laid his face on his hands and feigned sleep for a moment, “în patul meu,” he pointed to the hall again.

“There’s another bedroom down the hall?” you asked as you sat up a little, not having realized there was a third bedroom.

“Da,” he nodded with a smile.

You got up, the blanket still wrapped over your shoulders, and followed him to the room down the hall and around the corner.

As he opened the door, you smiled but sighed as you realized you couldn’t sleep in here. The bed was still disturbed from where he’d jumped out of it; there was a picture in a frame by the bed.

“Sebastian, I’m not going to steal your room just because I’m afraid of a probably-harmless rat,” you sighed. “I’ll take the couch—”

You turned to walk back into the living room but his arm across the doorway stopped you.

“Te rog ia-mi patul și voi dormi pe canapea,” he instructed, motioning away from his chest towards the living room to, apparently, indicate he would sleep on the couch in your place.

“I can’t let you—”

He gently grabbed your wrist, getting your attention.

“Nu e nicio problemă,” he soothed. “Noapte bună!”

He basically just shoved you into the room after that, shutting the door behind you. You supposed it was the best option, but you still felt a little guilty that he was being kicked out of his own bed.

You turned and looked at the very bed in question. Realizing you should change the sheets, you began to search the room for a linen closet or chest that might have a spare set.

You weren’t intending to snoop, per se. You really just wanted the sheets… but it was a nice glimpse into the personal life of a man you knew so little about. A room says a lot about someone, of course.

The picture on the bedside table was of a family with a small boy; it looked like it had been taken by an instant camera, the sepia tones evoking a bygone era. You assumed that the boy was Sebastian, considering the faint resemblance. He looked happy, and so did his mother; his father less so, but it seemed stoic more than negative. Next to the photo was a card which rested partially open— thankfully, you couldn’t read it even if you wanted to, but you could also see the signature inside from where you were standing: “Iubesc, Mama.”

You weren’t sure if it meant ‘love’ or ‘sincerely’ or something else, but it made you smile. You figured his mother must miss him with him living in Hungary for work. You wondered if anyone missed you back in London.

A lot of his clothes were strewn in a pile on a chair in the corner. Relatable.

Inside a small white paper box, you found a silver locket— oddly enough, no picture inside. While ignoring the fact that you obviously were snooping because you would never look for queen-size sheets in a white paper box, you wondered why he would have something like that. Maybe it was a relic from a previous relationship, and hopefully not a current one; maybe it was his sister’s or his mother’s. Hell, maybe it was his: you weren’t the sort of person to say a guy couldn’t rock a silver locket. He had the masculinity to spare, surely.

You gave up after searching the closet and the side bathroom and finding no sign of linens. Surprisingly, he owned a lot of shirts. They didn’t seem to get much use. He wouldn’t mind if you stole one to use as pyjamas, right?

Pulling a soft button-up from the hanger, you stripped and changed into it, loving how small you felt with it on. You snuggled up into the sheets and took a deep breath as you realized you were surrounded in the smell of him. Oh, this was a very dangerous game to play. You needed to be avoiding this infatuation, not indulging it by playing girlfriend. It was almost like you two shared this bed, like he would come back any moment and pull you into his arms, kiss you goodnight. You saw the light from the living room go dark through the crack under the door and felt another pang of guilt for his night spent on the old sofa. Maybe in the morning you could convince him to take a day off or something, just so he could relax for once.

Your last thought was of him as you drifted to sleep. You wished you could say that wasn’t true of every other night.

The next morning came early; he slept with the shutters open, something you hadn’t noticed when it was dark out. The sun shined directly into your eyes at about six in the morning.

“Must be an early riser,” you mumbled to yourself as you got up and used the side bathroom, splashing your face to perk yourself up a little. When you left the hallway tentatively in pursuit of breakfast, all that was left of him was a Sebastian-shaped dent in the couch. As you began to make a pot of coffee, you heard someone step into the kitchen behind you.

“Good morning,” you greeted as you turned around and smiled at Sebastian.

“...Cămașă mea,” he realized, pointing to you with raised eyebrows. You glanced down and remembered what you were wearing, feeling yourself blush a little. Maybe you should’ve put on pants…

“Oh, this… yeah, sorry, I hope you don’t mind…”

“Îl porți mai bine decât mine,” he shrugged, and it seemed to be a vague approval, so you kept on making the coffee.

“You want some?” you offered, pointing to him and a mug as he stepped past you and sat at the table.

“Nu, mulțumesc,” he dismissed with a wave of his hand. You nodded and poured your own, sitting across from him and sipping quietly. You hadn’t noticed he was holding a book before; the shirtlessness, as always, distracted from that sort of detail. But now that he pulled it out and continued from where he must have been before, you laughed a little. It was clearly a Romanian translation, but the title was Dracula.

“Isn’t that a little stereotypical?” you giggled.

He looked up from the book at you, and you pointed to it. “Ah, Dracula!” he said.

“Yep, I’ve read that one.”

He made a little hissing noise, holding his fingers up and curling them, and you realized he was doing a vampire impression. You laughed again.

“You don’t make for a convincing vampire, what with the healthy glow and all,” you smirked. “But feel free to bite my neck any time.”

For a second he made a serious, almost shocked face like he had somehow understood what you’d said, and you straightened up from sudden fear. But he only nodded and returned to his book, relieving your anxiety a bit. You realized that just because he didn’t speak English didn’t mean you could say whatever you wanted; maybe you’d given more away than you meant to with your facial expression. Or maybe he really had no idea that you’d said anything notable at all and it was just a coincidence.

Maybe you needed to change out of this man’s shirt before it drove you even more insane.

@mariahthelioness29 @navybrat817 @navegandoaciegas @mandalorianspace @2smittinkittin @maizyistrash (it won’t let me tag you :(( fuck tumblr) @honeygingergemini @msmarvelwrites @honeyloverogers @toozmanykids @dangertoozmanykids101 @fleeingdawn-blog1 @readermia @fanfuckingtastic04

#sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x y/n #sebastian stan fluff #sebastian stan fanfic #sebastian stan x you #just a reminder that this is a love actually au... this will come into play again next chapter lmao

451 notes · View notes

perksofbeingatallpotato · 4 years ago

Text

Drunk and Disco

Harry Hart x Reader Warnings: Drinking Word Count: 1,184 A/N: Just something light, happy, and funny (I hope). ‘This is ABBA’ was definitely my playlist when I was proofreading this. I’m not a dancer so I had to do a little research on the dance moves, forgive my descriptions. Oh and yay, just hit 250 followers on Instagram!

It was a Friday and the traffic’s bad. Just thinking about driving through, or sitting through that traffic is already making you tired. Which is why you decided to spend the night at the mansion.

Merlin said you’d be the only one staying tonight.

So, you started your night early. You showered, put on some sweatpants, a white baggy shirt, and a pair of socks with cartoon characters in it. Basically, whatever you could find inside your wardrobe that is not your uniform.

The amazing thing about staying at the Kingsman mansion is there seems to be an endless supply of alcohol and food. You walked around in your bedroom slippers as if you own the place, and raided the pantry for your dinner. You decided for something quick and easy, macaroni cheese. It would’ve been quicker and easier if Merlin decided to stock the pantry with an instant one. You made a mental note to give Merlin your suggestion.

Since you have the whole mansion to yourself, it was eerily quiet. The only sensible option is to blast some music, no neighbors are going to complain anyway. Thanks to Merlin for equipping the place with wireless speakers.

The drinks you've been consuming might’ve affected your choice of music, because you chose disco. shortly, ABBA was singing Gimme! Gimme! Gimme!

And then you were singing along as you cooked, moving your hips to the song while you stir the pot, and of course, drinking to your heart's desire. You've enjoyed it so much that you didn't notice you’ve made macaroni cheese for about 4 or 5 people.

You pulled a bowl and you started to eat, but the music, and quite possibly the alcohol, is really making you move. You danced and sang around the kitchen while holding your bowl of macaroni. You moved from the kitchen to the dining area, to the living room, all while grooving to the music, singing, and eating spoonfuls.

At that moment, no one would certainly suspect you are a well-trained spy.

It was when Dancing Queen was almost done when you felt the weight of someone watching you. Out of instinct, you turned back and threw your spoon toward your uninvited audience, as if it’s going to do a huge damage.

And there he was, Harry Hart, holding the spoon you tried to use as a weapon, inches away from his face.

It's nice to know drunk and disco you still have aim.

“Good catch, Harry!" Sober you would definitely not say that. "What are you doing?" A mix of amusement and confusion is visible on his face. You had to pause the music. "Eating, and dancing, and singing, and being merry. Wanna join me?" You shrugged. "I was doing some paperwork." Either Merlin is forgetful these days or Harry had just arrived. "No, you're not. I'm the only one's supposed to be here tonight." Sounding disappointed, but you’re actually glad for the company. "But I am here and you're causing such a ruckus." You rolled your eyes at him. "Well, since you're here, loosen up a little, will you?" Harry pursed his lips and he seemed to be contemplating your invitation.

You walked towards him and offered him your bowl of food, since he's already in possession of your spoon anyway.

Harry obliged and took a dollop, "this is good." The selection of cheese at the mansion surely made a basic macaroni cheese more delectable, but you're not going to tell him that. "Of course! ‘Cause I made that. And there's more where that came from, come along." And then you lead the way to the cheesy pot.

"Oh, nooo." Harry was going to get a bowl of his own. "Harry, loosening up a little means eating straight out of the pot." Astonishingly, he agreed to it. After you removed the pot from the stove, the two of you were digging into it, taking turns pouring each other drinks, and sharing a conversation. Turns out Harry was indeed doing some paperwork, but he kinda snoozed off a little and you blasting Mamma Mia woke him up.

"I'm so full." You groaned. "Me too, I now have what you call a food baby." Harry said. "No way!" You went to take a look but there wasn’t any food baby visible from his fit figure, "liar!" “I'm still on the first trimester," he tried to explain and you both laughed.

You resumed the music and SOS started playing. You sang along and used your spoon as a makeshift microphone. To your surprise, Harry knows the lyrics and he sang with you, mimicking what you did with the spoon.

Satisfied with the dinner, the two of you moved the party to the living room. At first Harry was just swaying along to the music.

But after a few more liquid courage, Harry was moving his arms and his hips. It was a moment you'd never thought you would ever see. Harry Hart was dancing his heart out and he's also very much inclined to a dance off.

Soon enough, the two of you are doing a little jive, singing a lot of duets using the bottles as a microphone, moving your entire body along to the song, turning with both arms up in the air, doing the disco finger, the hustle, bumping your hips together, flossing, doing whatever dance move you could think of, or trying to invent one, complimenting each other's terrible dance moves, taking a drink in between the dancing and the singing, and laughing all night.

It was fun, and exhausting. "I'm just gonna rest here." You decided to lie on the carpet, clutching the almost empty bottle of alcohol against your chest. You looked at Harry and he was panting, "good idea," and he laid down beside you.

"I didn't know you're an amazing dancer." You chuckled. "Neither do I, until today." You both burst into laughter. "Well, you're not so bad yourself." And the two of you burst into laughter again. "You are such a cute, handsome old man, do you know that?" Harry mumbled an incoherent response. You turned to look at him and his eyes were already shut. You laughed again, then music was fading and you're slowly drifting off to sleep.

When you opened your eyes, a bald man with a very unimpressed look on his face was looking down at you. Your head is throbbing and the light is making everything worse.

You closed your eyes again and Merlin spoke, “what did ye do with Harry?” He started laughing. “Look at this poor man!” You opened your eyes and turned to Harry. He was still fast asleep, his mouth slightly ajar. You wanted to laugh along with Merlin, but you ended up crying a little because it made the headache worse.

Harry Hart, who was always looking perfectly polished, is sleeping on the carpet of the mansion, showing a bit of his chest, drunk, with his mouth slightly ajar.

Despite the pain, you knew you needed to sit up to snap photos of Harry Hart to remember this unique moment.

#Harry Hart x Reader #Kingsman Fan Fics #Kingsman x Reader

176 notes · View notes

icedthoma · 5 years ago

Text

friendly competition

--Since you seem to like chapstick so much... maybe have a reader and Bakugou and neither of them know what the chapstick game is so the bakusquad ropes them into playing it before they know what the rules are?

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

Notes: thiS IS THE LAST CHAPSTICK POST I SWEAR HSSBDKJS DON’T COME AT ME T-T (it’s just writing kisses is rlly fun ight ok ill shut up now)

“This is stupid.”

“You know, for once I find myself agreeing with you.”

“For once? What are you talking about, idiot? I’m always right.”

“Yeah? I saw your red kahoot screen the other day, don’t even try to lie.”

Mina slid in between you and Bakugou, who’s hands were beginning to spark at your nonchalant attitude. “Let’s all calm down before someone gets sent to the hospital."

Huffing, you folded your arms and jerked your head away, plopping down to sit cross-legged on the common area’s floor. “Whatever. That doesn’t change the fact that little Rat-suki over here is being a whiny brat, as always.”

“What did you say? I’m going to--”

Kirishima yanked Bakugou back as he attempted to lunge toward you with palms blazing. “Come on, man. We’re all here to have fun!”

“Don’t even know why I came to this stupid thing anyway,” Katsuki hissed as he reluctantly sat down on the couch farthest from you.

“What’s the game?” you sighed, just wanting to get it over with. You’d go along with their antics to make them happy and leave you alone for the next couple hours, where you could catch some must needed rest.

Ashido beamed at your question, and flung a plastic grocery bag out from behind her back, holding it high in the air like it was some sort of trophy. “The chapstick game!”

“What’s that?” you and Bakugou said in unison, then immediately glared at each other from across the room.

“I asked first, you overrated extra.”

“Actually, we asked at the same time, you stupid blond hedgehog. No wonder you were never in band, you can’t count.”

Kirishima was prepared and once again held Bakugou in his seat before he exploded you to pieces. He resorted to flipping you off from his hunched position on the couch.

“Gremlin,” you mouthed back, sticking your tongue out at him.

“As I was saying, we’re playing the chapstick game,” Mina continued. “I will act as judge, of course.”

“Hey, Bakugou! I think you’d be great at this!” Kaminari teased, slinging an arm over his friend’s shoulders. “You’re good at cooking, so you should be able to tell these flavors apart in a heartbeat!”

“Y/n’s a pretty good cook too, you know,” Jirou piped up from Kaminari’s other side. “I think she could give Bakuboy a run for his money.”

You grinned at your friend’s support, staring smugly at where Bakugou was trying to burn holes into your forehead with the power of his glare alone. “Oh yeah? I think so, too.”

“Well, we won’t find out unless we play, huh?” Ashido yelled, finally losing her patience with all the interruptions. “I blew a quarter of my allowance on these, so we’re putting it to use or else.”

“That’s not very good money management.”

“Shut up, Denki!”

“Psh, fine. I’ll play along with your dumb game,” Bakugou scoffed, squinting at you while jerking his thumb towards the floor. “But you’re going down, you hear me?”

“I’ll make you eat your words like it’s your inferior cooking.” Walking over to where Mina was holding the bag of chapstick at you, you took a random one and looked at its label. Strawberry. “Wait, so what do I do with this again?”

“Put it on!” Kaminari urged you, and you did so.

“But I already looked at the label, so I know what flavor it is.”

“You’re not the one guessing, silly!” Uraraka piped up, looking pointedly at where Bakugou was still perched atop the common room couch.

“How is he going to...” you trailed off as the realization hit you. “No.”

“Absolutely no way,” Bakugou growled, coming to the same conclusion as you. “I’m heading out.”

“If you don’t play, you forfeit and Y/n wins by default,” Ashido called after his retreating back. He froze, hands twitching but not sparking yet, clearly torn between his desire to beat you in every competitive way possible and his distaste for games like this.

“It’s fine, Mina,” you laughed, waving your pink friend off. “I think I’ll take this free win. I’m sure Bakugou agrees.”

“Oh, no way in hell,” was all you heard before Katsuki whirled around and stormed back towards you.

“Wait--hold on--what are you--” you managed to stammer out before he grabbed your face in both hands and kissed you, right in front of all your friends.

You were barely aware of someone saying, “Oh my God he actually did it, someone get the camera right now--” followed by several other shouts of the sort, but it had all been lost in the background to your shock that Bakugou had indeed, done it. Your eyes were wide in surprise as you took in his face scrunched up in concentration, lips brushing against yours with a softness you never would have expected from him. His palms were rough and calloused and warm against your cheeks, and you couldn’t believe that these hands, the ones that were holding your face so gently like you were made of glass, were the same ones that had tried to blow you to smithereens on multiple occasions.

Once you had gotten over the initial shock and got used to Bakugou being so close to you, you then felt kind of awkward. Where were you supposed to put your hands? On his shoulders? Behind his neck? Was that too intimate for a simple game?

Just as you started having these frantic thoughts that made you extremely self conscious as to the way the two of you looked to the rest of your friends, Katsuki exhaled sharply and pulled away, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt much to your annoyance. The cool air conditioning was such a contrast to his warm body, that for a second you found yourself wishing he’d come back.

“Strawberry,” he said, an insufferable smirk plastered on those lips you hated, those lips you wanted to come back to you more than anything.

“Y-yeah,” Ashido murmured, gaze darting around to the rest of your friends in the room, as to confirm that she wasn’t the only one who saw that, right? “You got it.”

“Tch.”

You frowned down at the strawberry chapstick that had been in your hand the entire time, Bakugou getting slapped on the back by Kaminari in the corner of your vision. The thing was, you could tell from the moment you held the stick to your face that it was strawberry. The smell was potent enough that he should have been able to tell as soon as he got within smooching distance. But he had kissed you anyway.

You didn’t have the time to dwell upon this enigma, as Bakugou was snatching a new stick from the bag and swiping it across his mouth, shoving it into his pocket once he was done. “Well?” he barked. “Do you need an invitation?”

Rolling your eyes, you went up to him, steeling your nerves with determination. He raised an eyebrow skeptically as you paused in front of him, wondering how you were going to reach him from your lack of height. He certainly wasn’t going to bend down to your level himself. Deciding to throw all caution to the wind, you sighed and grabbed his shoulder with one hand and the back of his head with the other, yanking him down to crash his mouth onto yours.

Unlike his kiss, yours was anything but soft. You kissed him because you knew he wasn’t made of glass, you kissed him to win, your eyes open and narrowed as you ran your tongue along his bottom lip, noticing how he tensed up when you did so. His crimson eyes stared a challenge into yours, just daring you to lose to him. You coudn’t smell anything relatively fruity, so you ruled a whole bunch of flavors off the list. Your tongue had come away from his mouth cool, a stark contrast from his generally warm skin. Which led the only option to be...

“Mint,” you said, ripping your mouth off of his and placing your hands on your hips defiantly.

“Spearmint, actually,” Bakugou snarked, tossing the stick up and down in the air.

“I say it counts!” Ashido exclaimed, quieting down at the end to murmur, “And who knew Y/n could kiss like that?”

"Hurry it up,” Kaminari complained, bouncing up and down on the couch impatiently. “I want to play it with Jirou.”

“In your dreams.”

“We’re literally dating, what are you talking about--”

“What are you all doing still up?” Iida yelled, appearing at the front of the room and silencing all of you in an instant. “People are trying to sleep, and you all are making such a racket downstairs. I implore you to stop at once.”

“...that’s our cue to leave,” Mina whispered, grabbing the bag and running upstairs followed by Kirishima and the rest of your friends, leaving you, Bakugou, and Iida alone. Iida sighed and stumbled off towards the kitchen, mumbling something about just wanting to get some water.

It suddenly became so quiet you swore you could hear crickets chirping like they did in cartoons.

You snuck a glance at Bakugou out of the corner of your eye, only to find him doing the same thing. The two of you jumped in surprise as you caught each other staring, and you quickly averted your gaze to the floor.

“Listen, about earlier.”

You looked up to see Katsuki rubbing the back of his neck, his face uncharacteristically tinged with red.

“Yeah?”

“That didn’t have to mean anything, okay? It was just a stupid game, so don’t think too much about it, or--”

“We never found out who won, you know.”

“I would have won anyway, so it doesn’t matter.”

“You had an easy one, okay? You could tell by the smell alone, meanwhile I actually had to try.”

“Oh yeah?”

You knew you really had no reason to be provoking him like this. Literally none. So why were you continuing to do so?

“Whatever, it’s just some friendly competition,” you said, flicking your finger against his chest and turning away. However, he caught your wrist before you could fully pull away.

“Are we?”

“Are we what?”

“Friends.”

You searched his face curiously, but there was no malice or anger in his expression. You couldn’t tell what he was feeling right now, and that bothered you. Friends...maybe yesterday, that was what could describe you two.

But something had changed, and there was a shift between you that you weren’t sure was good or bad. Maybe it started when Bakugou agreed to the game in the first place. Maybe it was when he held his lips against yours longer than necessary. Maybe it was when you yanked him down to your level and kissed him until your lips bruised.

Not quite friends...but not entirely more...

“Sure,” you forced yourself to say, brushing an invisible lock of hair behind your ear and sliding your hand out of his grasp, which you found odd because he literally could have just let go and save you the experience of brushing your fingers over his for a split second. “Of course. Idiot. Anyway, isn’t it past your bed time?”

“Tch. See you later, loser.”

Both insults lacked venom, and you both knew it. As you walked up the stairs, Bakugou a few steps in front of you, you fisted the stupid strawberry chapstick tightly in your hand, the only thing you had linking you to that moment.

The moment everything changed.

674 notes · View notes

atinybitofau · 5 years ago

Text

[ateez] M I N G I ⥗ baby daddy au

HIS DAUGHTER NEEDS HIM & SO DO YOU. MAFIA MINGI.

warnings: may contain triggering content.

a/n: I think this whole series is just gonna be a mafia spin off at this point 😂😂 ya’ll like it so much. let me know yeah?

• “Y/n, go home.”

• you lift your head up from your desk and see the time’s passed when you’d want it to be.

• going home an option..

• although not an option you can take just like that.

• “I can’t.” you blink your tired eyes open again. “Minhee’s staying with my mom this weekend. I can finally pick up some more hours.”

• “Sweetie,” your coworker slips over a hot cup of coffee. “You need to go home. Take a vacation— I don’t know. Just not the same body breaking routine of working for your baby and settling on take out chinese. Sweetie, you need to go home.”

• her words cut like knives.

• being no more than the truth rather than comfort.

• because you stopped loving home.

• stayed at work more than at home.

• and it’s for your daughter.

• working your ass off is for your daughter.

• even if you had to sacrifice your wants and needs,

• you’ll do anything for your daughter.

• “Mom, I have to stay a little late today.”

• she’s hesitant to reply,

• gun to her hip as a familiar man plays with your baby,

• whimpering at the speaker hoping you could hear the desperation in her voice.

• “Sweetie, why don’t you come home early tonight?” she shakily says eyes shut when the gun’s gently forced to her ribs. “Please, y/n. Minhee misses you.”

• you don’t spare another thought. “I have to finish this paper, mom. Just one more night.”

• “I can’t have her for one more night, you have to come home. I need a break too.”

• you’re silent for that one.

• knowing your mom is well aware of your present distress.

• always hoped you’d give yourself what you really deserve.

• tries her best to give what she can, even if you say she can’t.

• because she’s a mom.

• and mothers know best.

• “I’m on my way.” you sigh, fingers rubbing at your temple. “You can tell them to let you go, ma. I’ll be there soon.”

• she sighs in relief.

• hoping one day you’d make amends with yourself.

• hoping one day your ex boyfriend would make amends with you.

• “If you needed a babysitter, why didn’t you just tell me?”

• you roll your eyes taking Minhee away from his warm embrace. “Stay away from my daughter, Mingi. And that goes for your friends too. Stay away from my family.”

• Mingi’s in headspace whenever he’s with you—

• always.

• being the only woman to ground him at his worst.

• a woman he once loved.

• until the day you forgot what love meant.

• worked too hard and thought too hard against him,

• what he means to you and your daughter.

• what you and Minhee mean to him.

• “She’s just as much as family to me as she is to you.” he stands up and follows you, his men turned for sake of privacy. “You can’t keep me from her forever.”

• you whip around harshly. “I will keep her from you as long as I’m able.”

• it hurts him to see you so burdened.

• to see you so locked up in chains.

• when you deserved the world since the beginning.

• never sure how he ended up with you in the first place.

• “I can protect her.” he insists voice raging out of frustration. “Believe me, I can do better than what you think I can do.”

• “My daughter doesn’t need a man like you to do anything for her.”

• “For fucksake, y/n. She’s my daughter too!”

• but you have too much pride.

• too much fear around Mingi.

• afraid he’d love someone else while loving you—

• afraid that who he was, could stop him from loving you.

• “Get out of my house.”

• Mingi lets out a strangled breath before snapping at his friends for space.

• it’s not until you put Minhee to bed that things get too heated.

• another day of a broken relationship undergoing attempted repair.

• “Stop pushing me away.”

• you turn to look at the father of your baby,

• a man who loved Minhee as much as you.

• “Why do you want her so much?” your voice breaks when you ask. “So you take her, theoretically okay. You take her and then what? She grows up learning the trades you do? Grows up learning her father would give up blood sweat and tears for something that’s not even for her?”

• “Why do you keep making me out to be this worthless heartless man? Someone you never loved? Not even worth being her father?” his tongue hisses between his teeth seeing red when you speak. “I’d do anything for her. And I’ve made that very clear.”

• maybe you’re just jealous.

• possessive over the both of them.

• you can’t just share them.

• you think letting Mingi go was the right decision for you.

• that keeping Minhee to yourself wasn’t selfish at all.

• you don’t know how to share two different kinds of love.

• it’s selfish actually.

• how you’re afraid that somehow someway they’d both end up not loving you.

• “You used to leave me for your life,” you keep your voice hushed as you argue with the love of your life. “The days I wanted your attention, you’d find something else to think of. What would make having Minhee any different than it was when you had me?”

• his eyes search you.

• heart racing and body hot—

• still obviously very in love with you.

• curses his life day after day for it being such a ridicule against what he really wants.

• he just wants to be with you.

• wants you to be happy.

• wants to be with Minhee too.

• “I love you and my daughter.” Mingi cups your face between the palm of his hands. “No matter how many times I told you I loved you, you never believed me. And it’s fine if you don’t, y/n. It’s fine if you can’t accept my love for you anymore. But don’t take my daughter away from me. Don’t force her to reject me the way you do.”

• god only knows how much you really love Mingi.

• how your heart hurts every day not being able to have him the way you want—

• to have and hold a man that loves you and your family unconditionally.

• you just want to be happy.

• you just want Minhee to be happy too.

• “I’m taking my daughter away from what you do.” you whisper tear rolling down your face. “Not from you.”

• some days he’ll stay.

• some days he’ll be too busy to stay.

• or some days, he can’t be the Mingi you fell in love with.

• he can’t be Minhee’s father everyday.

• and that’s something Mingi can’t understand.

• you don’t want to reject him.

• most of the time, he rejects the both of you.

• “Come on, Minhee. Stop crying baby. Mommy’s here.”

• you’re on the verge of tears at this point.

• two hours now of your daughter’s helpless crying and trying to flee from your weak arms.

• you’re tired.

• you’ve been a mother alone for too long and you honestly do need a break.

• Minhee feels your stress and she feels tired when she’s with you.

• your daughter hurts when you do.

• and when she hurts, she looks for one person to hold her.

• her father.

• cause it’s not helping when it’s with you.

• “M-Mingi, please come home.” you cry airily through the phone like your life depends on it. “Mingi I can’t do this anymore. I can’t.. I can’t live like this anymore.”

• Mingi goes to Minhee first.

• and it’s just father instinct.

• how easy it is for your daughter to sleep against his big chest like it’s the fluffiest pillow in the world.

• but you’re alone when he’s with her.

• you’re crying in the bathroom almost ready to give up.

• tired of not being good enough.

• tired of feeling like you’re not loved enough.

• tired of knowing you don’t love people enough.

• Mingi hands his daughter to his friends realizing you haven’t left the bathroom for two hours.

• hopelessly throws his body against the door,

• until he finally breaks it open to find you unconscious on the floor.

• “Y/n.” he lifts you in his arms as you open your eyes to look at him, deep sunk and tired. “Please stop pushing me away.”

• you lean against the warmth of his chest.

• like he’s the fluffiest pillow in the world.

• “Please, y/n.. stop pushing me away.”

• you wake up feeling warm.

• the sound of Minhee’s favorite cartoon playing over playful laughter.

• you groggily walk towards the homey sounds to find Mingi suiting up to leave with your mom wrapped around your daughter at the couch.

• “Where are you going?” you stop him before he goes,

• Minhee confused and seeming unaware her father was attempting to flee in the first place.

• “I was just..” he swallows down his thoughts. “I have something I need to do.”

• of course you’re disappointed.

• you don’t ever want him to leave.

• so your baby girl runs into your arms reaching for her father too.

• crying for him to stay for the both of you.

• “Y/n, honey, let Mingi go.” your mom butts in. “He’s been here since yesterday and hasn’t had any sleep either.”

• you’re definitely selfish this time.

• cause people shouldn’t just force others to do things against their own will.

• but you know it’s what your baby girl wants.

• for him to stay just as much as you do.

• “If you decide to leave, you come back.” you demand at the father of your child. “You come home. And you come home to me and Minhee, do I make myself clear?”

• your mother smiles to herself while your daughter climbs into Mingi’s arms.

• Mingi speechless when you actually let her,

• stumbling when he replies, “Y-you want me to come back?”

• “I want you to come home.”

• you slowly lean up towards the tall dangerous man you used to love,

• bringing a soft kiss to his shocked parted lips.

• “I want you to come back home to me. And I want you to come back home to your daughter, Song Mingi.”

@atinybitofau

1K notes · View notes