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buckys-black-dress · 4 years ago

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a/n: here she is!!! while i work on afl, here is my crackfic on tattoo artist bucky!! if u haven’t caught on yet, most of my writing is au’s because of all the possibilites in terms of scenarios and storylines. anyways, i hope you enjoy, lovies!!! xoxo, ali <3

wc: 2.8k

[tattoo artist!bucky x fem!reader]

It was like an addiction.

Your first tattoo you got was simple. It was a dainty, small one on your wrist.

But now, it was slowly developing into a sleeve.

Not that you minded, though. Your forearm was slowly becoming filled with designs that you kept going back and getting here and there.

And at the tattoo parlor near your apartment in Brooklyn, you had become a regular at this point.

It was called B&R Tattoo Shop, and it was run by two of the kindest, but most attractive men you’ve ever met.

You’ve come to find out after getting to know the owners, that they opened the shop a bit after they returned from their second tour in the army and wanted to settle back in their hometown.

Steve and James were hospitable to you, especially when they first met you. Steve was the one to meet you and speak with you at first, but he handed you off to James, or Bucky as he asked you to call him, because he was the artist at their shop that specialized in more of what you were looking for in terms of style.

As far as first tattoo conversations go, you and Bucky got to know each other pretty well in one session. The tattoo itself took less than an hour, but it felt like Bucky was... prolonging it in a way, like he wanted to keep you there longer.

As you swung open the door of the shop, you were greeted by their piercer, Natasha.

“Hey, back for another already?” She smirks from her spot behind the desk. While she wasn’t piercing, she usually worked the front if there was no one else free.

Your first tattoo had been done by Bucky, and you instantly fell in love.

With the tattoo.

Well, Bucky too. Just a little bit.

He was extremely soothing and eased you into the process of tattooing you. He told you when something was going to happen, and as soon as you got used to the feeling of the needle against your skin.

The more he talked to you, the less pain you felt. It was already not that painful, but you almost forgot about it with him talking to you. When he looked up to you as he finished, you looked like a confused puppy.

“Okay, all done, doll.” Bucky looked up at you, moving to turn off his machine.

“Oh... that was fast.” You furrowed your brows.

“Well, yeah, we moved pretty fast since it was a pretty small piece.” He explains, grabbing a paper towel and the anti-bacterial spray.

“Do you mind if I take a quick picture of it? I usually do, for my portfolio.” Bucky asks, inspecting the tattoo closely once again.

“Oh, yeah, that’s fine.” You wait for him to pull out his camera, take the picture, and he comes back with a piece of plastic film in his hand.

“Okay, so this saniderm has to stay on for about three days. This is how it’ll heal, and when you take it off just wash it up with a gentle soap and use a cream without any fragrance or any of that crap. I can give you a little of that spray if you wanna use it to clean it up if you ever feel like it’s dirty.” Bucky explains, giving you a mini bottle of the antibacterial spray.

“Thank you,” you say, moving to sit up in the chair. “How much do I owe you?”

“Uh, just about $40.” Bucky says without eye contact, heading to the computer at the front counter.

“$40? That’s it? When I signed the waiver it said the shop minimum was $75...?” You wonder out loud.

“Let’s just say you get a special discount, doll.” He smirks, typing something into the computer and only sparing you a glance.

“O-Oh. Alright.” You say sheepishly, handing him your credit card.

“Okay, you’re all set. Hopefully I’ll see you again soon.” He tells you with a gentle smile. It really contrasted his aura; a big, beefy guy with a metal prosthetic arm, covered in probably hundreds of tattoos. But here he was, smiling like sunshine.

“I think I will be. Have a nice day, Bucky.”

“You too, sweetheart.” He gives you that smirk again, making you feel like you might actually pass out. And not because you just had a needle jabbed into your skin for almost an hour.

“Uh, I already talked to Bucky for my session today. I know I’m a bit early, I can wait if he’s still working on someone else.” You tell Natasha with a smile.

“Sure, let me get you your waiver.” She says, and you plop down into one of the chairs at the front and pulling out your book to pass time after filling out the form.

After a few minutes, Bucky emerges with a girl from his little tattooing corner.

You hear his voice first, looking up from the book while he talks to her.

“Okay, since this was your first piece and pretty small, I’ll only charge ya $55 for it, doll.” Bucky tells the girl with a smile, and you immediately feel a pang in your chest.

You didn’t want to say you were jealous, but goddamn it, your breathing became just a little more shallow at the sight you were currently witnessing.

Even Natasha and Steve turned their heads to him, confused looks on both of their faces.

“Oh! Y/N, you’re here! C��mon back, I’m sure Nat already set you up with your waiver.” You nod, not saying a word as you follow him to the familiar chair.

“So, are we still doing what we discussed on the phone?” Bucky asks, setting up his area to tattoo you.

“Actually, I was thinking something different.” You say sharply.

“Different?” The shock is evident on his features.

“Yeah. Different. Just want a little something on my collarbone.” You say, sitting down.

“O-Okay... what were you thinking of?” He asks, pulling out his sketchbook.

“I want an olive branch, going from here to here.” You show him where you want it to start and end. It was a bit of a stretch right across the left side of your chest. “Something simple and minimal. I’ve been thinking of starting the top of my sleeve, this might be a good way to transition into it.” You say nonchalantly.

“Uhm... alright. How does this look?” Bucky asks, showing you his sketch. “I would, of course, add more detail to your liking, just let me know.”

“Yeah, I want some more shading, please.” You say shortly. You honestly weren’t trying to be mean, but you were irritated.

But in the end, you really had no right to be.

After almost ten sessions with Bucky, he hasn’t made any indication that he likes you the way you like him.

Sure, he calls you pet names, but he does that to everyone. Even discounts. You weren’t special. He was just being nice and doing his job.

So honestly, you had to cut the act here.

“Are you sure this is what you want? Are you saving the other design for our next session?” Bucky asks, growing more and more concerned with your odd behavior. Usually you would talk to him about your day, how work was, really anything.

“I don’t know. I think I might ask Steve to do that one instead.” You say out of spite, more than anything. You would never take a design that Bucky made specially for you to another person to tattoo on you, even if it was his own business partner.

“Wha- Why? Did I do something? You’ve been acting really weird today...” Bucky questions you carefully. “Talk to me, doll. Did you have a bad day at work?”

But that, that right there, was your breaking point. Doll.

“No, I’m fine. Let’s just get this done.” You huff, laying down after nodding to the sketch that Bucky drew out.

Bucky’s brows furrowed even further, but didn’t ask any more questions. He laid down the stencil and asked if the placement was alright. You looked in the mirror he handed you and nodded briefly.

The entire time Bucky had the machine in his hand, neither of you spoke a word. He tried to make brief conversation, but you only responded with a hum or nod.

When he finally finished up, you got up and headed to the counter without a word after looking at the finished tattoo in the mirror.

Your face was blank, emotionless, and Bucky was truly lost.

After you paid the full price of your piece, you walked out of the shop, not even sparing anyone a glance.

Once you left, the shop was dead silent. Everyone either just finished up with a client or didn’t have any at the moment, and the shop was blanketed in an extremely uncomfortable silence.

“What the hell was that, man?” Sam’s voice broke the silence, making Bucky’s head snap towards him.

“I-I... I have no idea. She was acting so...so weird today.” Bucky looked more confused than ever.

“You’re an idiot, you know that?” Natasha’s voice cuts through the palpable silence.

“Wh- What the hell did I do? I asked her too, and she didn’t give me an answer...” Bucky mumbles.

“Do you like her?” She fires back with a fire in her eyes.

“W-Well, yeah. She’s a regular.” Bucky answers, looking at his fiddling hands.

“Not like that, you dunce. You know what I mean, don’t act dumb.” Natasha rolls her eyes.

Bucky sighs, not making eye contact yet again.

“I-... I do like her.” He says. “But I don’t think she feels the same.”

“Jesus fucking Christ... You really are a dumbass.” Sam sighs out.

Steve snorts at his words, nodding in agreement.

“Buck, she got jealous.” He explains, shaking his head at his best friend’s obliviousness.

“J-Jealous? Of what?” Bucky scoffs in shock.

“That girl you had right before her. Gave her a discount, called her pet names. The whole shabang.” Natasha points out to him. “Also, you gotta stop giving out discounts like that. You’ll lose more money than you’re makin’.” Natasha scoffs.

“Wh- But... She never said anything...?” Bucky thinks back to all the times you’ve sat in his chair. You never made any indication that you were outwardly interested in him.

“I think she said enough today without actually saying much.” Steve laughs. His friend was a real idiot.

“I... But, why didn’t she say anything before?” Bucky asked.

“Buck, you never said anything either. I guess that when she heard you talk to that girl like that, she thought you really didn’t like her like that at all. You treated that girl the same way you treat her.” Natasha explains to Bucky, who had a look of realization on his face.

“But... I was just... being nice...” He says with his head in his hands.

“Well, now she thinks you do that with all you clients, so...” Sam says, making the brunet’s head shoot up.

“Fuck. Fuck. I fucked up everything!” He exclaims. “I-I do like her!”

“Well, don’t tell us that, tell her!” Sam shouts back to him, and before Bucky can process, he’s pulling out his phone and dialing your phone number.

“C’mon, pick up, pick up,” He mumbles repeatedly, but the call goes to voicemail. “Fuck.”

“Not pickin’ up?” Steve questions, coming to the front and picking up the shop phone. “Gimme her number, she’s doesn’t have to shop saved to her phone, right?”

“No, I don’t think she does.” Bucky says, watching as Steve dials your number.

“Hello?” Your voice sounds annoyed as it filters through the phone. “Who’s this?”

“Uh, Y/N! Hi!” Steve speaks, looking at Bucky in a panic, his facial expression screaming, ‘talk to her!’

“Steve? What’s up?” You ask, wondering what he needed.

“You uhh... you forgot your book here!” He blurts out, trying to find an excuse, but quickly found one upon seeing your book resting on the seat where you were waiting.

“O-Oh... I guess I’ll just turn around. I’ll be there in a few. Thanks, Steve.” You say, ready to hang up.

“O-Okay. Bye, Y/N.” He clears his throat, hanging up. “You have like, ten minutes to get your shit together and talk to her when she gets here. Good luck.” Steve pats Bucky on the shoulder, ready to haul Natasha and Sam to the back to give you two some privacy.

Bucky thought that this was the longest ten minutes of his life, and he was trying to conjure up a speech in his head to confess to you.

Finally, when you did appear through the doors, you looked lost. You only saw Bucky, which made you even more aggravated from the fact that you had to turn back around.

You were ready to head home and wallow in peace, but alas, you wanted your book.

Bucky just watched as you picked up the book from his grasp across the desk, your eyes not meeting his while he kept his gaze on you very intently.

Just as you turned around to leave, Bucky’s voice cut through the unbearable silence.

“Y/N?” He simply asks, and you feel like the wind’s been knocked out of your lungs at the sound of his small voice. This wasn’t the Bucky you knew and... loved.

“Yes, James?” You simply respond, and Bucky cringes at the sound of his first name being used.

“Can I talk to you for a second?”

“...Why? Is everything alright?” And although your voice didn’t give it away, you felt your heart drop to your stomach. Any possible scenario popped into your head. He has a girlfriend. He’s gonna tell you he doesn’t wanna see you anymore. He-

“E-Everything’s fine, doll. Just wanted to tell you that... That I...” Bucky’s voice sounded strained, like there was something caught in his throat.

“Bucky, just spit it out.” You say, wanting to leave already.

“It’s just- I like you. A lot. And I’m so sorry for earlier with that other client. I was just trying to be nice, but I realized how that looked to you, and I never thought anything of it because I didn’t know if you liked me back or-” Bucky was rambling, and your eyes were wide as saucers.

“Bucky, Bucky stop. Let me talk before you drive your own head in with conclusions,” you say, resting your hand on top of his on the desk.

“I like you a lot, too. I didn’t think you like me either because of that girl before me. You just- you treated her the same way you treated me, and I got jealous. I know I didn’t have the right to be, but it just made me think that... that you didn’t feel the same way about me, that I was just another client to you. I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions, and also for being kind of a bitch to you...” Now you were the one rambling, your hands flying all over the place in explanation.

“D-Doll, I never wanted to make you feel that way. I’m sorry, too. I should’ve told you before, before I almost blew everything with you that we’ve been building these past months.” He says placing one large tattooed hand and one metal hand on the sides of your face. “But I’m not gonna miss my chance again. Y/N, would you like to go on a date with me?”

“I-I would love to, Bucky. Took you long enough to ask me.” You giggle, holding onto the hands on your face.

“Yeah, well, I’m kind of an idiot, if you haven’t already noticed.” He laughs, gazing into your eyes with a look that almost turned you to mush in his hands.

“Do... do ya wanna go now?” You ask, nodding your head to the door.

“Sure, let me go grab my jacket from the back.” He tells you, and you nod, watching as he keeps his eyes on you until he disappears to the back.

“My man, who would’ve thought you’d finally man up?” Sam ridicules him as soon as Bucky appears.

“Dude, shut up. I got a date to get to, see you losers later.” He rolls his eyes, moving back out where you’re smiling at him.

“Ready, angel?” Bucky asks, slipping his hand into yours.

“Ready, handsome.” You reply, and as soon as you step out into the fall air, you plant a kiss on his cheek. “Where to, lover boy?”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #Bucky Barnes #bucky imagine #bucky barnes fic #tattoo artist!bucky #tattoo artist!bucky barnes #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes imagine #bucky x reader #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst

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not-me-simping-for-blasty · 4 years ago

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Wrong Number, Asshole - A Bakugou Katsuki Soulmate AU

All Parts

Part 24:

You groaned, rolling over to grab your dinging phone off the nightstand.

Rubbing at your eyes, you sat up against your headboard, breathing deeply. As it turns out, a highly emotional day like the one you had yesterday could really tire a person out. It was so tiring in fact that you had collapsed almost the second you fell into bed last night. You had been pretty much dead to the world since.

Opening your phone, you nearly rolled your eyes at the text waiting for you.

You scoffed. He sure was petulant today, wasn’t he?

He began typing again, but deleted his words.

Now, you were a little nervous. You weren’t being clingy- right? Sure, you really wanted nothing more than to see him again, and sort of felt that maybe you were entitled to that considering he was your soulmate, but maybe the feeling wasn’t mutual?

Who were you kidding, he might have texted you but that didn’t mean he liked you as much as you liked him. This was Bakugou after all, and even if he somehow did, he’d rather chew his own leg off than admit it.

You read through the texts again, hoping and praying that you didn’t sound too desperate. It was another few minutes before he responded again. With an answer that really did absolutely nothing to quell your fears.

You blinked owlishly at his reply, before sending him a quick “okay”.

Bakugou always seemed to know when you were overthinking things- and, on one hand, it was annoying because he never understood that him and his dismissive words were the cause, but, on the other hand, it was nice. To finally feel understood for once. And to finally talk to someone who’s responses, when he tried, were intentionally made so blunt that you couldn’t possibly misunderstand them.

Sighing, you pulled your tired body out of bed and headed for the shower. Apparently your plans, which had originally consisted of being lazy the entire afternoon, were suddenly changing. Not that you were complaining though.

--/--

Stepping out of the cab, you noticed the crowd once again swarming the front of the hospital. The horde of people almost seemed to be moving as one mass, pushing and pulsing against the security guards standing at the entrance. There were a lot of people covered in Dynamite merch and face paint, even little kids dressed up like Bakugou and feigning explosions as they played.

It seemed that Bakugou’s heroic deed had put him back in the public’s favor and now they all had gathered in a show of support- and while you could appreciate that as a symbol of community, you selfishly sort of wished they’d leave so visiting him would be less of a spectacle.

You realized suddenly that more of this was definitely going to be in your future; the crowds of screaming people and adoring, over-excited fans. Your soulmate was a pro-hero after all, and quite possibly the loudest man you’d ever met- you should’ve known a quiet life wasn’t going to be an option.

As it stood now, you had almost no idea how you were going to make it through the massive throng of bodies- and, even if you did somehow push to the front, how you were going to convince the guards to let you through at that point.

“Excuse me!” A young girl suddenly grabbed your arm, tiny fingers clasping around your wrist. “Do you know how to get in! I need to get in!”

You were blindsided, stopped in your tracks and held down by the girl. She was young, but not much younger than you- if you had to guess, she was 17 or 18, with bright eyes and a strong grip that surprised you. This, her, was certainly not what you expected out of today.

“I- why do you need to get in so badly?”

“Bakugou!” She exclaims, eyes glazed over starry and adoring. She thrusts out her other wrist, presenting you with a poorly drawn tattoo. “See? I’m his soulmate!”

Your stomach drops, and for a second you nearly believe it- but then you snap out of it, and all you can think about is how strange the situation is. She was young, so obviously young, and so clearly charmed by your soulmate’s hero persona. You thought it was a little funny- if she knew Bakugou like you did, you were almost sure she wouldn’t be as delighted with him.

You weren’t sure how to respond. The immature, prideful part of you wanted to scoff and shake her hands off of you- to tell her just how foolish she looked talking to his actual soulmate. But, then again, you weren’t sure you could say anything about that at all. In all the research you’d done on him, you hadn’t seen a single mention of a soulmate- he never talked about it, never let anyone see even a hint of your name tattooed on him. Maybe he wanted to hide it for the sake of his career? Or, worse, was embarrassed of it?

“H-his soulmate, huh?” You stutter out, unsurely.

“Yep! So that’s why I need to get in there so bad! To make sure he’s okay!” She rambles. “So, will you help me get in?”

“Y/n! Y/n L/n!” You hear a familiar voice yell, and when you look towards the sound, all you see is a flash of red hair and hands waving emphatically.

Kirishima. Thank god.

“I’ve gotta go.” You shake the girl’s hand off, slightly jostling her with the force. “I’m so sorry!”

You hardly recognize the disappointed look in her eyes before your arm is grabbed once again- but this time by a security guard as he leads you to the front. The guard deposits you at the entrance, just a few feet from where Kirishima is waiting for you.

“Sorry about that.” The red-head chuckles nervously, opening the door up for you. “I uh- I woulda said something earlier, but I couldn’t see you to point out for a guard. It’s totally my bad!”

“No, it’s good, you’re good.” You reassure him, following him as he leads you to the stairwell from yesterday. “Thanks for saving me. I was pretty overwhelmed.”

“Yeah. It can get pretty crazy out there- not as crazy as Bakugou, though! You shoulda totally seen him screamin’ and yelling at the window when you walked up. He was super pissed.”

“Sounds like him.” You can’t help but smile. “Doesn’t surprise me at all.”

“Yeah.” Kirishima nods. “Who was that girl- you know her?”

Your silence and the uneasy expression that rolls across your face must give it away- he almost immediately pales.

“Oh! Yeah- sorry, none of my business, right?” Kirishima turns to face you, stopping at the step above you for a moment and throwing out placating hands. “It’s totally cool, don’t feel obligated or anything, I was just curious! Sorry for prying though, that wasn’t manly of me at all.”

You almost couldn’t believe Kirishima was such close friends with Bakugou- he seemed like the total opposite of your soulmate.

“No! It’s fine- I wasn’t offended or anything. Just,” You paused, looking at you feet as they climbed higher. “She wanted me to help her get in. To Bakugou. Said she was his soulmate.”

Kirishima turns around again, his feet nearly catching on the step as his mouth drops open. “She said that? To you! That’s insane!”

“Yep.” You nod, slightly breathless and you finally reached the fourth floor. You let out a small chuckle as you continued down the hallway. “She was young though- definitely a fan, so I didn’t say anything. I didn’t really want to crush her dreams in front of all of those people.”

“Man, that’s good. She’d probably be super upset, right? Good job!” He throws you an enthusiastic thumbs up, all shark teeth and bright eyes. “Still though- I shoulda guessed it was somethin’ crazy like that. You looked totally freaked out back there!”

“Did I really?”

“Mhm,” He nods, finally stopping in front of Bakugou’s door. “I- uh, I better stay out here. He’ll be real mad if I let anyone else through. Especially if you’re in there.”

“Oh. Yeah. Okay.” You push the handle open, turning back for just a moment. “Nice to see you, though. Thanks again for the save, Kirishima!”

When you enter the room, you’re surprised to find Bakugou, grumpy and sitting in a chair next to the window. And not in his hospital bed resting- where you’re almost 100% sure he should be. He’s clad in a weird combination of hospital pants and his own sweatshirt- it only serves to make him look even more petulant as he sits with his pinched expression.

“You seemed real buddy-buddy with Shitty Hair.” He grumbles, but there’s a smile beginning to tug at his lips as you near. “You think he’s better than me or some shit?”

“Oh- yeah. Loads. Loads better actually.” You joke, taking the vacant seat next to him. When you turn to look at him, he’s already glaring at you. “Oh calm down, grumpy, I was joking. Box dye and bandanas aren’t really my thing.”

Bakugou laughs. “He’s been pullin’ that shit since high school. Kinda losin’ all hope he’ll ever be cool.”

“Hey- don’t be mean! Maybe he’s just an extra-late bloomer, you never know.” You sigh, fixing him with a serious stare. “Now, though, we should really move onto more pressing matters.”

“Which are?”

“You in one of these chairs, and not in a hospital bed!” You near shrieked. “Which- by the way, I looked it up- four stories is 40 feet! You fell 40 fuckin’ feet and you’re not in a hospital bed, right now!”

Bakugou just rolls his eyes, fixing his gaze on the window once more. “Stop your freakin’ out already, woman, I’ll be fine. I’m already healed from all the big injuries anyway- so just shut the fuck up about it already.”

“The big injuries- what about the small ones? Bakugou! 40 feet! Do you know how much that is! I feel like you’re not taking this seriously enough!”

“Who cares.” He shrugs, settling into his seat with a slight wince. “Didn’t fuckin’ kill me, so who cares.”

“Me! You idiot! How many times do have to make this clear to you!”

Bakugou just looks at you, eyes widening as he breath catches. He looks genuinely and plainly shocked- easily the most expressive you’d seen him be aside from rolling in pure anger.

“I already told you, you fuckin’ asshole, that I like you and care about you! So of course I’m happy that you’re not dead, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care about the small stuff!” You emphasized, sighing as you run an errant hand through your hair. “And I can see you’re still fucking hurt, so of course I’m going to freak out when you’re not in a hospital bed- like you should be, and you’re not sitting there resting- like you should be! Who the hell even helped you up? Why the fuck would they ev-”

“Shut up already. I get it.” He mumbles, and when you look at him his cheeks are bright red and he’s biting his knuckle. His eyes are alive though- bright and simmering and so very, very red. “I got up myself. Don’t go blamin’ anyone else for it.”

“God. Of fucking course you did! You know- you make yourself really hard to care for, right?”

“I know.”

“And it’s just like- I do it anyway, you know! And get shit-all nothing but anxiety and still choose to do it anyway! You’re so fucking frustrating!”

“I know.”

You turn to look at him, but he’s already looking at you, something soft and pleased growing at the edge of his lips.

“No! Don’t just sit there and start smiling.” You huff, pointing an emphatic finger at his stupid smiling face. “I’m mad at you and you need to go back to bed so don’t just fuckin’ smile at me!”

“I get it.”

“No, obviously, you dont! Because you’re not getting up! So, c’mon,” You stand from your chair, offering a hand. “Let me help you.”

Bakugou just looks at your hand, glares at it, and stands by himself. You can see the strain plainly on his face- how the action winds him and how it sends pain shooting through his battered body. When you look at his eyes though, all you can see is resolute stubbornness. With great effort, and even greater determination, Bakugou manages to hobble over to the wall, dropping against it. His shoulders hit first, and then he’s rolling all of his weight back onto them.

You were stunned- not that he chose to do it, because of course he chose to, but mostly that he’d succeeded. You’d seen a clip of his fall, it was playing on the news before you’d left your house, and it looked nasty. When he hit the ground, all of his limbs were so mangled and impact alone knocked him out clean. The injuries he still had, broken bones and cracked ribs, at the very least, must’ve still been causing him great pain- and yet he surpassed those with sheer force of will alone. It would’ve impressed you; if seeing him in so much pain didn’t make you so sad.

“That didn’t look comfortable. I really think you need crutches, angry man.” You point to the bed. “Or you could just go lay back down, like you’re supposed to, and we could forget this whole argument.”

“No thanks. Done bein’ fucking fussed over. The only reason I haven’t left yet is because there’s people everywhere.”

“And because you’re not supposed to, remember?”

“No. It’s good now. Nurse said I could.” He says, groaning when you stare back at him entirely unimpressed. He points to a bundle of papers and medication on the bed. “Look, gave me all the discharge instructions and everything. I’m not fucking lying.”

You walk over, flipping quickly through the packet of instructions. Bakugou wasn’t lying- he really was approved for discharge apparently, albeit under very specific instructions for not over-exerting himself. Which he was obviously doing so great at so far.

Sighing, you folded the papers and placed them in the bag with all of his medicine. Regardless of what he wanted, you were going to make sure he took care of himself. And that included, taking all of the medication and performing the physical therapy outlined on the papers.

“Alright, then. Guess we’re going, after all.” You clap your hands together in finality, before grabbing the bag of medication. “I still think you need crutches though.”

You look him up and down, eyes zeroing in on the way he was huddled against the wall. All his weight was in his shoulders, and in any other situation, you might’ve thought it was an effortlessly cool pose- but not here. Not in this hospital room with him dressed in weird clinical sweats and a childish expression.

“I’m not getting crutches. Lame as shit.”

“Are you kidding me? Your body is literally beat to hell- who cares about how cool you look right now?”

Bakugou just nods toward the window, and you peer down to see the crowd from earlier still gathered below. It seemed like cameras and reporters had also joined, and they were making a worrying amount of headway to the door, pushing against security impatiently. It looked entirely overwhelming, if you were honest.

“If I leave with crutches,” He starts. “Then I gotta hear about that shit for fuckin’ weeks.”

“Are you serious?” You ask appalled. “You’re obviously injured! What the hell are they even gonna s-“

Bakugou just hits you with a pointed stare, and it stops you in your tracks.

He’s right. Any weakness- even crutches when injured- would read bad for his career. It would shatter the illusion people had of him. Of his infallibility and limitless strength.

“It’ll draw too much fuckin’ attention,” He elaborates, pulling the hood over his head. “No shitty sweatshirt could help me then.”

“Wait, that’s your disguise for sneaking out? A sweatshirt?”

Bakugou just nods, suddenly pulling the hood up and over his head. It flattens his wild hair against his forehead, and you nearly squeal. He looks adorable- although still very much like himself. You weren’t so sure this disguise would cut it, but you were pretty much out of other options. It would have to make do.

“Yeah. Okay. I get it, put the hood back down.” You pause, trying your hardest to think of another solution. “How about a wheelchair?”

Bakugou just looks even more offended- like your last request was a front to his very dignity. Hell, knowing him as you did, you figured it probably was.

“Yeah, fine, I get it, angry man- no wheelchair.” You sigh. “At least let me help you then? I mean, it looks like you need something at least.”

“No. I fuckin’ don’t.” He refuses hotly, shifting his weight agitatedly against the wall. “I’m fine.”

You roll your eyes, you should’ve expected him to be difficult about this. It seemed that appearing weak was his greatest fear; you thought that was a little ironic- that his biggest weakness was weakness itself.

“Seriously- please. You look like you’re about to keel over where you stand, Bakugou!”

“I told you not to fuckin’ call me that, anymore.” He retorts angrily, but you watch him wince when he moves too much. “And I told you, I’m fine. So just shut the hell up about it already.”

You watch him for another moment, taking careful stock of the way he leans back on his shoulders and curls his arms around his sides. You didn’t ask him specifically- but you’re sure now, Bakugou’s at least got broken ribs- among many other broken and sprained things probably.

Fine, if he won’t readily accept your help, than you’ll just have to goad him into admitting his own failure.

“Hmm, sure, then step away from the wall then, hot shot.”

He’s quiet, but you watch as his eyebrows pinch and his cheeks redden.

“Why? Stop bein’ fuckin’ weird! I’m just standing for a second, leave me the hell alone, shitty woman.”

You just shake your head. It almost disgusts you how much rolling fondness smothers what should’ve definitely been annoyance.

“So, you’re telling me,” You start, walking a little closer to him. “That if you stepped away from this wall right now- that you wouldn’t immediately fold in half like a lawn chair?”

“No!”

“Okay. So do it then, pop rocks. C’mon. Let’s see.”

“I’m- I’m not just gonna fuckin’ do something just because you goddamn told me too!”

“Not even if it’s a challenge?” You tease, nearing him even more. You’re just a few measly feet away now, staring defiantly up at petulant red eyes. “Because it is- a challenge. I bet you that you can’t do it.”

“Fuck you.” He grits out, but then he’s pushing off his shoulders and standing straight. “See? That’ll teach ya to run your stupid mouth about shit you don’t know dick about.”

“Hmm, good words, Katsuki- expressive, even. We’ll see how long you last.”

He doesn’t say anything, but you can see his jaw clenched down; his shoulder’s strung tightly, the slight twitch in his calves. Katsuki isn’t going to stay upright for much longer.

You move before you even recognize it, sidling up to him and ducking under his arm.

“What are you- Stop! Get the hell away!” He barks harshly, but stands in place, not really doing much other than flushing violently. “It’s- I don’t need your fuckin’ help!”

“No, Katsuki, chill out- stop,” You laugh, rearranging his heavy arm over your shoulder. “If we’re doing this then I’m going to help you!”

“Lemme go! I’ll fuckin’ crush you, I don’t need your help!”

“Okay, yes, fine, maybe you don’t need it, but it would make me feel a whole lot better if you accepted it,” You huff, your hand wrapped tight around his wrist. “And you won’t crush me- I’m a big girl, I promise I’ll be fine. So just stop being stubborn- for me? Please?”

He growls, rolling his eyes to the ceiling- but then he’s shuffling closer to you and shaking his head. If you thought his arm was heavy before, you were sorely mistaken- when Katsuki finally surrenders, the solid weight of all his muscles nearly takes you out. You stumble for a moment before regaining your balance.

“Idiot. Thought you said you could handle it?” Katsuki looks down at you, smirking slightly before once again rolling his eyes. “Now, c’mon, fuckin’ get on with it, sunshine.”

You resist the sudden slight urge to nudge his ribs, or let him collapse to the ground- this was your idea, and you wouldn’t let your child of a soulmate talk you out of helping him.

“So, I was thinking-“ You begin to shuffle with him, slightly breathless. “We sneak out the back. Or something. There’s a crowd outside.”

“Already established that, several times, fuckin’ ages ago, dipshit- and of fuckin’ course there is. It’s me.”

“Oh my god, this is not the time for your ego!” You groan, but still keep a steady pace as you begin, towards the door. “Speaking of, though, one of your fangirls told me somethin’ real interesting on the way in, though.”

“Christ. What?”

“Apparently, she’s your soul mate.” You laugh, shallowly, trying to project a confidence you couldn’t feel. “C’mon, Katsuki, you should’ve told me! Total dick move that I had to find out from her!”

He scoffs, patting your shoulder with the hand strung across it. “You fuckin’ tell her off or somethin’?”

“Nope. I told her that I think you guys would make a really cute couple!”

“Are you fuckin’ serious?”

“No- of course not.” You say stopping in front of the door for a quick break. You suddenly weren’t sure whether you could really do this or not. “I didn’t say much of anything, really, didn’t know if I could.”

“Hah?” He looks down at you funny, red eyes squinting. “Fuck’s that mean?”

“You know, your career? Didn’t wanna say anything just in case.”

“Incase’a what?”

“I- I don’t know,” You stutter, suddenly feeling insecure. You focus your eyes on the tiles beneath your feet so you don’t have to look at his eyes. Eyes that you can feel boring into the side of your head. “Just in case, you know?”

“No. I fuckin’ don’t.” He says, mild irritation coloring his voice from above you. “Stop thinking so goddamn much, I can’t fuckin’ keep up- just tell me what you’re all worked up over.”

“It’s-“ You sigh, ringing your hands together anxiously. “You’re- you’re not embarrassed, right? Because, I know I shouldn’t have done this but I was looking you up again, and I just- I didn’t see anything about you having a soulmate? Anywhere? Ever? Do you just not want people to know or- because that’s totally fine, you know, like I get it, you’ve got this super big career outside of me and I’m totally fine if you just wanna like not say anything to anyone or lik-“

“Idiot. Stop thinking so much.” Bakugou tilts his head towards the ceiling. “I’m not fuckin’ embarrassed of you.”

“T-then why?” You ask hesitantly, while staring at your feet. You’re not sure if it’s the jarring movement as he rearranges his weight or your racing heart, but either way you’re feeling sick. “Actually- you know what, it’s fine, forget I even said anything. It’s fine. I’m fine.”

Bakugou doesn’t say anything, just nods and stays silent. Then he looks down at you, at the way you won’t meet his eyes, and he groans.

“Fuckin- fine. God, you always make me say the most embarrassing shit.” He gripes, flushing slightly as you finally look up at him. “It’s not because of any of that stupid shit. It’s- I fuckin’, ugh, I didn’t want somebody else findin’ you or whatever before I did.”

“What? Find me? Who?”

“God, you’re fuckin’ dense.” He scoffs, but when you look up he’s still smiling lazily down at you. “People. Media. Fuckin’ villians probably too.”

“Holy shit.”

“Chill out. I kept fuckin’ quiet so you don’t gotta worry about that now. Besides-“ He turns his head away, cheeks flushing slightly. “I’d blast all those fuckin’ weaklings to hell if they tried anything now. So don’t get all anxious about it or whatever.”

You just look down at your feet, smiling at his words but still feeling unsure nonetheless. You understood- for sure, but that didn’t mean the weight of all these consequences was easy to bear.

“Now can we go? Are we done worryin’ about stupid shit?” He asks lightly, jostling you slightly. “Got more important things to do.”

You nod, opening the door just to watch Kirishima stumble backwards.

“Oi- shitty hair! What’re you leanin’ against my door like that for?”

“Oh! Hey guys!” He greets cheerfully, before taking stock of the situation. He tilts his head. “You guys leaving?”

“Obviously.” Bakugou scoffs, but then he’s leaning in toward his friend, dropping his other hand heavy on the red-head’s shoulder. “Need ya to distract anyone who walks up here though. Gonna leave the other way and go out the fuckin’ back.”

“Oh- yeah, okay! Got it, man! You sure you should be leaving though?”

“That’s what I said.” You interrupt, glaring Bakugou into silence as he tries to speak. “But he insisted- and I’ve got all his meds and instructions so I think we’ll be alright. Maybe. If we’re lucky.”

“Don’t just fuckin’ talk about me like I’m not standin’ right here, shitty woman!”

“I wouldn’t have to if you weren’t so difficult all the time!” You retorted. “Now, you can handle it from here, right Kirishima? We really could use your help.”

“Yep! Totally got this! You guys go on ahead, I’ll stand guard right here!” He flashes a bright smile at you, before pointing down the hall. “There’s a staff elevator just down there. You should use that- it’ll probably be way faster. Good luck!”

You just nod, smiling brightly at him as you pull Bakugou in that direction.

“Oi- not so fuckin’ fast!” He shouts, stumbling slightly.

“Keep your voice down, angry man! Everyone’s gonna know it’s you!”

“How the fuck is my voice gonna give it away?” He says, while simultaneously screaming like a banshee in the middle of an otherwise quiet hallway.

“Like that! So keep it down, good fucking lord.” You grumble, a breath of relief leaving your mouth as you finally near the elevator. You push the button, sighing as the doors open.

Bakugou shuffles away from you, leaning against the back wall and staring moodily at you as you press the button. The elevator surges downward, and after a minute or so the doors began to open again. You shouldered his arm once more looking up to see him pulling the hood of the sweatshirt farther down his face. He looked adorable and you couldn’t keep yourself from staring.

“Oi- fuck you lookin’ at, woman?”

“Nothing.” You laughed. “Now, c’mon, we’ve still got a ways to go.”

Sneaking Bakugou out was no easy affair to begin with, and he certainly didn’t help whatsoever. His frame was just too large and too heavy, and there was no possible way he could be quiet, especially considering his thundering steps, even when he wasn’t screaming. He seemed to attract attention no matter where he was or what he was doing. People were starting to stare as you booked it towards the back exit- you needed to move. And quick.

“Jesus christ,” You huffed, breathless and slightly irritated. You point at his stomach as you pull him along. “I know you’re hurt, but could you at least try and engage those core muscles you so obviously have?”

“You said you’d be fuckin’ fine, sunshine.”

“God, you’re difficult.” You shook your head, rolling your eyes at the sight of his amused little half-smile. “You think this is funny don’t you?”

Bakugou doesn’t say anything, but when you look up at him, there’s still that small smile edging at his lips. He seems to hold it, even through his grunts of obvious pain.

“Wow, of course you do. Immature, angry, loud man.”

“Who says I’m fuckin’ loud?” He asks hotly, pulling his shoulders in as you both shimmy through the, admittedly, small back door. “I’m not fucking loud!”

“God, you’re screaming right now! Do you even hear yourself?” You wince, but feel relieved as you help him hobble to the curb. “How’s a taxi sound, pop rocks?”

“Don’t fuckin’ call me that. I hate it. Don’t do it again.” He grumbles. “But it’s fine- whatever, I don’t care.”

“Great.”

You raise your hand up, nearly crying in relief when a taxi rolls up to the curb. When you help Bakugou in, and slide in the seat next to him, you’re almost overcome with satisfaction. Sneaking him out was one of the most difficult tasks you thought you’d ever taken on- both physically and mentally, and god, were you glad it was over.

--/--

As it turns out, explosive personalities don’t always lend themselves to explosive environments.

Bakugou’s apartment was clean, tidy, nearly spotless when you helped him walk in. It surprised you, truly, but he didn’t let you sit on that thought for long. He brushed you off, hobbling slowly down a long hallway without a word. It takes a few minutes, but Bakugou enters the room at the end and slams the door shut behind him.

Oh- What exactly were you supposed to do now?

In reality your fingers were itching to open drawers and rifle through cabinets, and just generally snoop but you, of course, knew better. So you instead chose to read through the instruction papers and medications once more- just to busy yourself and maybe see if there was anyway you could help him. Since, apparently, Bakugou was not keen on asking you for assistance himself.

You hear the door open again, and Bakugou comes unsteadily down the hallway, nearly collapsing when he reaches his couch. He’s dressed in new sweats, and he turns to look at you.

“Fuck you doin’ over there?”

“Meds, angry man.” You say, doling out the few necessary pills from a bottle. “Where’s your glasses?”

“You don’t have to fuckin’ do that.”

“What- you’re gonna force yourself to get up again?” You ask him, unimpressed. “You’re hurt, so just please let me help you. At least with this.”

He nods tightly, mouth pressed into a thin line. “Glasses are in the cabinet behind ya.”

You nod, filling a glass of water for him and walking the medication over. Watching as he took it, you weren’t exactly sure what to do now. So you just sort of hovered next to the couch, arms around your stomach anxiously.

“What’re you doing- sit the fuck down already, idiot.” He pats the seat next to him. “Stop being weird. Freaks me the hell out.”

“Yeah. Sorry.” You laughed. “Just didn’t wanna assume- in case you wanted me to leave or something.”

“Wouldn’t have let you in if I wanted you to leave. Dumbass.” He reaches over, flicking your forehead lightly. “Your stupid thoughts are clogging up the air. Stop it.”

“Hey!” You whine, rubbing at your forehead. “Not nice, angry man! I’ll let it go this time, but try it again and I promise you’ll really be hurting.”

“Mhm. I’m sure.”

He settles further into the couch, throwing his head back and closing his eyes. The mid-day sun floods through the window, hitting the column of his throat, and casting him in gold. You think he’s beautiful then. Far more beautiful than anyone else you’d ever known.

“Yeah, sorry.” You breathe out, suddenly a little nervous by your close proximity to him. “Think those’ll probably make you a little sleepy.”

“Fuckin’ stellar.”

“Don’t sound so grumpy- it’s just a nap. And besides, you should probably be taking one anyway.”

“It’s not that.” He peeks an eye open, lazily rolling his head to catch your gaze. “You hungry?”

“No- I’m good. Are you?” You ask suddenly. “I can totally get you something? Or make you something? What do you have here? What do you want?”

“Jesus, sunshine. Slow the fuck down.” He breathes, turning his head back to the ceiling with a small, fond, smile. He sighs sleepily. “I’m good. Just wanted to ask ya.”

“Yeah. Okay.”

He mumbles something, but you don’t quite catch onto it. It’s quiet for a few moments, before his breathing is starting to slow. Your surprised at just how tired he seems to be, but then again, he was taking some pretty strong pain meds. As it stands now, he seemed minutes from falling asleep, and you were worried about the strain he was putting on his neck.

“Hey- you shouldn’t fall asleep like that.” You touch his shoulder lightly, fingers just barely brushing the fabric of his shirt. “Lay down, I’ll get up.”

Bakugou just opens his eyes, only glancing at you for a moment before he closes them again. Then he’s tipping over, a flurry of heavy limbs and awkward weight hitting your lap. When you look down at him, his eyes are squeezed tightly closed and he’s blushing wildly. He kicks his feet up off the floor, and settles in, quickly becoming deadweight across your thighs.

“O-oh.” You say, breathless. “Yeah. Okay.”

“Mhm. Now shut the fuck up, I’m tryin’ to sleep.”

“Yeah.”

You’re winded, short of breath and flushing bright red from his actions; but still, you find you absolutely can’t help yourself. So, with shaking breaths, you’re carding fingers through his hair before you can think better of it.

When you look down at him, Bakugou’s only gone brighter red, but he’s smiling too. He stills, before suddenly peaking one eye open.

“Wake me up for dinner, alright, idiot?”

You nod and then he’s closing his eyes again, chest rising and falling slowly. He’s asleep and dead to the world in just a few minutes, but you can’t stop staring.

You knew you liked him- liked him a lot, as a person, not just a soulmate. You liked his weird brand of humor and his insults and death threats. You liked his masked concern and blunt words, you were even strangely fond of his yelling- but you weren’t prepared for just how much those feelings would amplify when he was so close. He was close, and warm, and breathing under your fingertips and you liked him so much. More than you’d ever liked anything or anyone else in your entire life.

You were stricken, absolutely smitten, and there was nothing you could do about it. Or even wanted to really. So you just stared, eyes tracking his calm features as you worked careful fingers through his soft hair.

You understood now- why so many of your peers had told you they were jealous. Why they had all sighed dreamily when you told them, before immediately wishing to be you. Having a soulmate was inexplicable completeness and undeniable purpose- it was finality and new beginnings all in one.

You understood now, and you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

//-//

ee soz this took so long!! no excuses lmao i just stupidly started playin genshin and holy shIT was that bad for my productivity ahahaha

hope u enjoy my lovelies!!!!

#bnha bakugou #mha bakugou #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugou #katsuki bakugo fluff #bakugou soulmate textfic #bakugou soulmate au #mha fic #bnha fic #bakugou imagine #bakugou series

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johaerys-writes · 3 years ago

Text

Dorian Pavus/Trevelyan

A World With You, Chapter 49: Something to Prove

Where Tristan interrogates Gordian about Corypheus' plans, but learns more than what he bargained for.

Read on AO3 | Read from the beginning

The wine was cool when it glided down Dorian’s throat. The rain had finally stopped, yet the echoes of distant thunder from the west still drifted through the Plains. The muffled sounds that came from within the tent made Dorian’s stomach twist. He drank some more, trying to make it stop.

“How’s your head?” came Bull’s question from behind him.

“Never had any complaints,” Dorian quipped, without thinking.

Bull chuckled softly, standing beside him with his arms crossed before his chest. “Good to know.”

“How’s the prisoner?”

“Well enough. Boss is currently rearranging his face. With his fists.”

Dorian winced. “I thought he was done with that,” he murmured. “How he deigns to get the man talking if he punches out all of his teeth is truly beyond me.”

“Gotta soften them up a bit first, before you get them talking,” Bull said in a pleasant tone. “Besides, Gordian should have known he had it coming, when he trapped you behind that barrier.”

“Yes,” Dorian sighed. “I suppose he should.” There was little that could be done to quell Tristan’s anger and loathing for the Venatori on the best of days, let alone now, that one of them had had the audacity to attack Dorian directly. Not that he’d been in any real danger, as Dorian had pointed out to him several times on their way back. There was hardly a lackey of Corypheus that could truly hold their own in a fight against him. But Tristan, if nothing else, did have a flair for the dramatic that could match Dorian’s own sometimes.

“I think I’ve had enough fresh air for now,” he said, tucking his flask back into his pocket. “Let’s go back inside, and see if there’s anything left of our captive to have a conversation with.”

The inside of the tent they’d dragged Gordian in felt uncomfortably stuffy. The air smelled of blood and mud. Gordian was tied to a short wooden pole, with his hands behind his back, his head lolling forward. Tristan stood above him, wiping his knuckles on a piece of cloth; the fabric, once white, was now crimson.

Tristan’s eyes were dark when he glanced at Dorian and Bull over his shoulder. He tossed the bloody cloth to the side, then picked up the leather bag that Harding had brought him a little while before. Inside were health potions, their contents vibrantly red in the dreary half-darkness of the tent.

“Give him this,” he said sharply as he tossed one vial at Sera. “Make sure he drinks it all.”

The elf caught in the air, hopping off the barrel she’d been sitting on. “I say we leave him like this,” she huffed, yet strode to the man regardless. “He’s not worth wasting a good potion on, is he?”

“I want him talking,” Tristan said coldly, “and I have no time to spare to wait for him to recover.” His features were hard, the trembling shadows of the lamp in the corner carving stark shadows along his cheeks and the line of his jaw. He watched as Sera tipped Gordian’s head back, emptying the contents of the vial, little by little. From his corner of the tent, Solas watched too, leaning against his staff, his face an expressionless mask.

“There, all done,” Sera said, clapping the man hard on the back when he started coughing. Gordian’s wounds started healing slowly, though the bruises remained, as did the puffiness around his left eye, which was almost swollen shut. “Ready for another round?”

Gordian scowled up at her, his eyes still hazy. “Get your hands off me, you filthy knife ear—”

“That’s enough of that. Sera, leave him.”

Tristan crossed his arms before him, and Dorian almost let out a breath in relief. As much as Gordian disgusted him, he wasn’t sure he could stomach another round of watching the man’s face getting beaten to a pulp. There was a side of Tristan that frightened him at times: he couldn’t quite understand how the same man that was so soft and gentle with him, that treated him as if he was precious and fragile, could just as easily turn stone cold and ruthless with those that slighted him. Not always, not with everyone, but just the thought of what he could do when pressed made Dorian somewhat uneasy.

“What is your purpose here?” Tristan asked Gordian. “What were you sent to do?”

Gordian glanced up at him, his eyes hazy. He said nothing, only kept staring at him with a scornful smile painted on his lips. Tristan’s gaze hardened, his fingers digging into his arms where his hands lay folded.

“I asked you a question.”

Gordian’s expression didn’t shift. “I heard you the first time, Inquisitor.” He uttered the word with so much contempt, that even Dorian winced.

Without a word, Tristan picked up the bucket of ice cold water that stood beside him, and threw it forcefully on Gordian. The Venatori gasped, blinking, crimson-tinted water dripping from his hair and his beard. His eyes were wide and focused now, the haze lifting, and Gordian stared at them all around him, his chest heaving with his panting breaths.

“Was that truly necessary?” Dorian muttered, to which Sera shrugged carelessly, perching herself on the barrell.

“Serves him right,” the elf said, gathering her legs underneath her and boredly chewing on a wheat stem while Gordian gradually returned to his senses fully.

Dorian sighed, then reached into his coat pocket and removed his small notebook, the one he always kept with him. Some of its pages had been soaked by rain and mud during his tumble with the Venatori, but his notes were blessedly intact. He'd hoped to find some time after the fight to make some notes on Gordian's magic, when his memories of the barriers and incantations he'd used were still fresh in his mind, and now was as good a time as any.

“Did that cool your head?” Tristan said pleasantly, setting the bucket down. "Ready to answer my questions now?"

Gordian coughed again, shivering and sputtering water and blood through his split lips. “You’ll pay for this,” he hissed, voice hoarse and trembling. “Do you hear me? Corypheus will know. Corypheus knows all. He will make you all pay! He—” Gordian stopped talking when Tristan took a slow step towards him, sliding a knife out of his pocket. Its edge was sharp, thin as a hair.

“One more word,” he said in a low, threatening tone, “one more word that I don’t care to hear, and I’m cutting your tongue out.”

Gordian swallowed, glancing at the knife, then in Tristan’s face. “Curse you,” he tried again, “curse all of you—” He stopped again, when Tristan moved closer, brandishing the blade. “Alright, alright,” he said shakily. He shrunk back into himself, pressing against the pole he’d been tied to. “Have it your way.”

“Good.” Tristan leaned on his back leg, twirling the blade between his fingers. “If you value your life, you’ll tell me everything I need to know. Yes?”

The Venatori nodded, once, and with much reluctance.

Read the rest on AO3!

#dragon age #dorian pavus #dorian x trevelyan #pavelyan #dorian x inquisitor #dragon age inquisition #dragon age fanfiction #tristan trevelyan #a world with you #johaerys writes

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nev3rfound · 4 years ago

Text

one of a kind : l.l

with loki having returned to earth, the avengers call upon their newest recruit, an angel to help. only, loki refuses to believe the truth until it’s too late. (1.9k)

masterlist / permanent taglist

Sighing to himself, Tony walks away from the vault as Steve awaits him outside. “Any luck?” Steve asks, receiving a look that says more than words could. “Well, we’re not out of options yet.” Steve adds, trying his best to remain hopeful as Tony rolls his eyes.

“He still not talking?” Natasha pipes up as the pair return to Tony’s lab where the rest of the team stand, eager for any form of update.

“He won’t budge, thanks for that, Thor.” Tony quips, shooting Thor a look who simply shrugs before placing his hammer down on the metal table with a heavy thud.

“It’s not my fault my brother is so unwilling.” Thor comments, keeping his head down.

“He killed three people and threatened the lives of everyone in this building.” Natasha reminds him, and Thor raises his head meekly.

“He’s adopted?” He weakly states.

“This isn’t enough, I think we gotta bring in the big guns.” Tony rises to his feet, pacing around the room as all eyes turn to him.

Shifting on the spot, Steve clears his throat before speaking up. “Tony, I don’t think that’s wise.”

“Oh, and do you have any better ideas, Cap?” Tony shoots back, frustration rising through him as Loki remains locked up in the vault, tormenting them endlessly. “Didn’t think so.” He mutters under his breath. “Friday, can you send our sunshine a message to meet us in my lab?”

“Of course, Tony. Message sent.” Friday responds, and Steve glances over to Natasha, knowing it’s too soon.

Within a matter of minutes, you tiredly walk through the doors of Tony’s lab, seeing the Avengers all stood around. “Am I crashing some kinda party?” You chuckle, but your laughter isn’t well received based on the solemn expressions. “Tough crowd.”

“How’re you doing, sunshine?” Tony walks toward you, resting his arm over your shoulders.

“I’m better today.” You tell him truthfully. “Healing is taking a bit longer than usual, but I’ll be fine in a few days.”

Tony hums to himself, glancing over his shoulder to the rest of the team. “Listen, Y/n, we’ve got a favour to ask of you, and it might not be easy.” Tony begins and guides you back to face the rest of the Avengers.

Steve holds out a chair for you, noticing your breathing becoming shallow and your eyes drooping. You silently thank him as you sit down, glad to take the weight off your feet.

“How can I help?” You ask, a bright smile on your face.

Despite everything you’ve been through these past few months, you’re still more than willing to help everyone else.

“Well, Thor’s brother decided to pay us an unexpected visit,” Tony trails off as you raise a brow to Thor.

“Loki’s here?” You watch as Thor nods. After hearing countless stories from Thor about his brother, you can’t believe he’s here. “So where is he?”

“In the vault.” Natasha states bluntly as you whip your head around. “Sorry, Y/n. It’s the safest place for him to be.” She adds, and you nod to yourself, knowing it’s probably for the best after what happened last time.

“He’s not talking to anyone, is he?” You knew your goal at that moment as the Avengers nodded in response. “Okay.” You mutter under your breath as you rise to your feet, forcing back a groan as a sharp pain shoots up your side.

Steve’s hands hover naturally toward you, but you push through it. “We’ll be in here, Y/n.” Steve tells you. “If you need us at all, or want out, just say.” He adds.

“Thanks, Steve.” You smile sweetly before carrying on alongside Tony, heading toward the vault that you have only ever entered once.

“We just wanna know what he’s planning, why he’s back and all.” Tony briefly explains what they currently know, and the many gaps in Loki’s story as you stand in front of the doors to the vault.

You watch as two men open the doors, revealing a metal bridge leading to the glass container where Loki is sitting.

Loki lifts his head up, and as you catch his gaze it isn’t what you expected. After hearing countless tales of the past you anticipated seeing someone who radiated evil. But sitting before you is a God weakened by his past, not someone who revels in it.

“We’ll be outside like Cap said.” Tony mutters to you as he glares to Loki who merely smiles back.

“Bye, Tony.” You wave to him as the door is closed, leaving you and Loki in a moment of silence whilst you compose yourself.

“You’re not afraid,” Loki speaks up, now standing as he paces around the cylindrical container, a reinforced version of the previous one. “it’s awfully stupid of you.” He adds, and you can’t help but laugh quietly.

“Why should I be afraid?” You dare to ask as you lean against the railings, heavily relying on them as you make eye contact with Loki. “You’re just a God.”

“Oh my dear,” Loki laughs, shaking his head. “you have no idea who you’re talking to, clearly. You’re a mere mortal, why do you all think you can trick me into telling you anything?”

Sighing to yourself, you push your weight from the railings and step forward. “Perhaps because I’m not a ‘mere mortal’?” You suggest, now catching Loki’s attention. “I grew up with God’s, some, like you and others well,” You trail off. “we don’t talk about those ones.”

“What are you saying? You’re a God?” He coldly asks, but you shake your head in response.

“Oh, Gods no.” You admit. “I’m an Angel.” You state.

“No, you’re not.” Loki bluntly comments, looking you up and down before turning away from you. “Angels don’t exist, they’re a fairytale to keep children calm and believe in an afterlife.” He scoffs.

It’s your turn to scoff as you pause, waiting for him to look back at you. “Some say your kind are fairytales, Loki. Doesn’t mean that you aren’t real.” You explain, nearing the glass. “Why are you adamant that I can’t be an angel?”

Turning on his heels, Loki smirks as he approaches the glass, hovering before it and towers over you. “I would know if angels existed. Now, if you don’t mind I was in the middle of thinking about the thirty different ways I can escape here without the need for a mortal to interrupt me.” Loki states.

“Fair enough.” You shrug your shoulders as you cross your arms over your chest. “However, Loki?” You call out. “There are thirty-seven ways out of here, just so you know.” You chuckle, stepping back and return to the railing, trying to hide the pain in your laugh as it ripples through your spine.

Loki’s lips part to respond, but his eyes focus on your hand clutching your side. “You’re injured, aren’t you?” He asks, watching as you nod. “In the tales of Angels aren’t you supposed to heal within minutes of being injured? The whole ‘immortal’ aspect of being an Angel.” Loki paces around the cell once more, but his eyes never leave you.

“It’s a bit more complex than that.” You tell him through gritted teeth. “When an Angel falls from above or rises from below, our powers are still within us, but they aren’t as effective since we’re in the mortal world.” Your breathing slows down now, and you can’t help but slip down to the ground.

“How did you fall?” Loki kneels behind the glass, focusing on you closely. Yet, your breathing becomes slower, and the curiosity Loki has for you increases. “Tell me!” He yells, slamming his fist to the ground.

“I was sent to guard over a human, something we all do at some point.” You begin to explain, picturing the young boys face as he sat with a bloody nose in the middle of the park as children walked away, leaving him to suffer. “He, well, despite my efforts of guarding him, he didn’t make it.” Tears fill your eyes as you remember the day you fell, the consequences of your actions or lack thereof. “How about you, Loki?” You quickly change the topic of conversation. “Why did you come back to Earth?”

“You think I’m going to simply tell you because you told me a story?” Loki remarks.

“Stranger things have happened in all my years.” You tell him, shifting as you try to rise back to your feet. “And trust me, I’ve had plenty of them.” You joke as you stand back up, firmly gripping onto the railing behind you.

“Nonsense,” Loki mutters. “you’re a mortal, no older than Thor’s beloved Jane.”

You shake your head. “I’ve lived for nearly three hundred years.” You tell him. “It’s all in the eyes, Loki. But you only ever see the fear in them, whereas I see hope.”

“You’re here to envoke hope? That I might somehow change with the help of an ‘angel?’“

“Like I said, Loki.” Your voice quietens as you try to ignore the growing pain searing through your body. “Stranger things have happened.”

“Well, I am truly sorry.” Loki chuckles. “But this has been fun, a great story you’ve construed together I’ll admit.” He laughs softly. “As if a mortal of such a young age could try and tempt me.”

“I wasn’t here to tempt you, Loki.” You state clearly, despite your vision beginning to blur. “As I said, I was here to try and help you. As that’s what I do, it’s what I know.” Your voice softens as words struggle to leave your lips coherently.

“Nice try, mortal. But you’ll never get me to crack.” Loki spits to you, and that’s when you fall to the ground.

Immediately, the doors open and Steve rushes in.

“What did you do to her?!” Steve yells to Loki as you lie unconscious.

“How could I do anything when I’m stuck in here?” Loki holds his hands up in defence.

Steve glares to the God as he tries to pull you into his embrace. “Tony?” Steve calls out, and Tony walks in with Thor behind him, causing Loki to sigh heavily.

With the help of Thor, Steve is able to get you to your feet, but as you stand up your wings appear.

“Careful!” Steve warns the others. “Y/n told me her cloaking doesn’t work if she’s unconscious.”

“Come on then,” Tony mutters as he helps Steve carry you out, minding your large bright wings.

Yet, standing in disbelief, Loki can’t help but rethink his entire conversation with you. He watches as your wings drap across the floor, feathers catching on the metal and he winces as some are left behind.

“Angels are real?” Loki thinks aloud.

“What did you do to her, dear brother?” Thor asks, defeated as he hovers by the glass. “Y/n is nothing but a kind spirit, a real angel, Loki. Couldn’t you see that?”

Lowering his head, Loki remains silent.

Without another word being said, Thor exits the vault, leaving Loki alone as the door is sealed shut once more.

Staring down at the stray feathers you left behind, Loki buries his head in his hands. “I’m sorry.” He mutters under his breath, wishing he could’ve believed you whilst you were here and seen the hope in your eyes, and the fear looking back at them.

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iamanartichoke · 3 years ago

Note

Fic prompt: If you feel like doing another hurt/comfort with Mobius, I would love a version of that end scene where Loki's freaking out but it actually is our Mobius. So Mobius listens to everything Loki has to say, and then they just kind of...take a breath, I suppose, before whatever they're going to do to fight Kang - perhaps Loki gets some tea, and/or an actual meal, a little sleep maybe (has he eaten since that cake on the train or slept since that brief nap in ep 2??), or whatever comfort-y stuff you want - I just need that sweet fic healing lmao.

@scintillatingshortgirl19 Thank you for the prompt and I hope you like it! <3

Summary: Takes place at the end of episode 6, where instead of saying "Who are you?" Mobius knows Loki and they pick up from where they left off in the void. Word Count: 1956 Author’s notes: I'm not feeling super confident with these prompts, so please don't judge me bear with me as I dust off my little writer-brain gears and try to find my footing with these new characters and characterizations.

Completed prompts.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Mobius is saying, holding his hands up, but Loki can’t stop talking. The words are spilling from him; he’s tripping over them, and from the look on Mobius’s face Loki knows he’s not making sense, but still, he can’t stop.

“He’s set on war,” Loki babbles. “We need to prepare, Mobius.”

“Hang on.” When Loki pauses to take a breath, Mobius reaches out and places his hands on Loki’s shoulders. It’s almost comical, the way he needs to reach, as Loki towers over him. Yet Loki feels very small, too, and doesn’t protest the contact. “You’re speaking faster than my brain can process words. Breathe, okay? Start at the beginning.”

Loki doesn’t know when the beginning was. It could have been the moment he’d leapt up and grabbed Sylvie’s arm before she could land a fatal blow to their enemy; it could have been all those days (or months, or hours, Loki has no idea; time, for him, has completely ceased to exist) ago that he’d landed in a Midgardian desert and the TVA immediately swarmed upon him.

“You’re not understanding me.” Frustration colors Loki’s tone. “There’s no time to stop; he’s - they’re - coming.”

“You’re right, I’m not understanding you.” Mobius lets go of Loki’s shoulders and rubs the back of his neck. “I want to, but you gotta slow down and fill me in, okay?”

“Maybe we should take him somewhere,” says B-15. Loki had barely noticed her but now he steps back, his gaze flicking from her to Mobius, taking in the confusion on both of their faces.

“You don’t look so good,” B-15 adds, taking in Loki’s appearance. He must be a sight, he realizes; his hair is matted and tangled and he feels grimy, his skin caked with so much dirt and blood from injuries he doesn’t remember getting.

But, what difference does it make? Loki turns back to Mobius, desperate. ��Mobius, listen to me. Sylvie and I -”

“Come on.” Mobius cuts him off. He moves in, taking one of Loki’s arms. “You can tell me everything, okay, Loki? I just need you to calm down and to come with me, preferably before you pass out. Hauling around a five hundred pound demigod wasn’t on my to-do list today.”

Loki bites back a sharp retort. He’s vaguely aware of B-15 taking his other arm, and it’s only once Loki’s shoulders slump and he allows himself to be led away from the shelves that the exhaustion hits him. He’s been running high on adrenaline for hours, and now that he’s moving slowly, supported on either side, all of that energy seems to drain from him at once. His knees buckle.

“Careful,” Mobius says. Were it not for him and B-15 holding him up, Loki is certain he would have collapsed. He squeezes his eyes shut and focuses on placing one foot in front of the other, not caring where they’re going. The archives, the time theater, one place is the same as another.

They move through halls that are bustling with activity, minutemen running and disembodied voices crackling over speakers. They don’t know it’s pointless, no amount of hunters in the field will matter or make a difference.

He thinks he says so, or perhaps he just imagines he does. Neither Mobius nor B-15 acknowledge him, at any rate; they only keep moving and after awhile, they arrive at the dormitories, where Loki has not been since the first day Mobius brought him here as an official TVA employee.

��Why are we here?” Loki asks, confused.

“So you can get a shower and a change of clothes,” Mobius says simply, “and then we can have some coffee and you can tell me what happened after the void.”

Loki sighs, and then nods, resisting the urge to insist that everything else could wait (until when?), because Mobius isn’t understanding the precariousness of the situation, but he knows it won’t do any good.

“Fine,” he says instead, giving up. The sooner he does what Mobius asks, the sooner Mobius will listen.

He’d not realized just how badly he needed that shower and change of clothes until he’s scrubbed the dirt and blood from his skin and allowed the hot water to beat over his sore muscles and rapidly-forming bruises. For lack of anything else to wear, he puts on a clean suit, fastening the cuffs firmly around his wrists and buttoning the collar up to his neck.

He’s sick of this outfit; he never wants to see it again but, without his magic, he has no other choice.

In the dormitory kitchen, Mobius is brewing a pot of coffee. He looks up when Loki walks in, and his mouth quirks in a half smile. “Better,” he says, “but you could still probably use some sleep and a meal.”

“Stop fussing,” Loki snaps, irritated with Mobius’s sudden desire to hover over him like a governess hovering over a petulant child who won’t eat his peas. “I hate coffee, by the way.”

“You’ve never had my coffee,” Mobius retorts, sounding unbothered. “Just sit down, okay? You still look like hell, is my point. When’s the last time anyone fussed over you, anyway?”

Loki makes a scoffing noise as he drops down into a chair at one of the small kitchen tables. “I’m sure my mother did at some point, I don’t remember.” Actually, he remembers very well that it was always his mother who looked after him when he was sick or tired or lonely, until he’d grown too old to allow himself to seek her out for comfort.

But he doesn’t want to think of his mother, who is lost to him and perhaps lost to the real Loki as well, the sacred timeline’s Loki, if enough time has progressed and Malekith has indeed run her through with a sword and left her bleeding out on the palace floor.

Loki shudders as he thinks of it, remembering the sight of his mother’s lifeless body projected onto a screen. He’d been helpless to stop it, utterly powerless, just as ultimately he’d been powerless to stop Sylvie.

His mother, dead. Sylvie, lost to him. The timeline destroyed - the end of everything. The weight of it all crashes over him; had he not already been sitting, the sheer despair of it would have brought him to his knees.

Loki drops his head into his hands instead, thinking back to Mobius’s words that first day: you were born to cause pain and suffering and death.

In retrospect, Loki knows that Mobius was merely fighting dirty, using whatever words necessary to break Loki down - the ends justify the means, and all that - but he wasn’t goddamn wrong.

How could Loki have ever believed, even for a second, that he could possibly change?

We write our own destinies now, he’d told that creepy little clock hologram, and she’d smirked, seen right through the words because they were rubbish and they both knew it.

Good luck with that.

Loki doesn’t realize he’s crying until Mobius sets down a steaming mug of coffee in front of him. He lifts his head and rubs tiredly at his tear-stained cheeks, unable to meet Mobius’s gaze as Mobius sits down across from him with his own mug.

“Here,” Mobius adds, reaching into his inside blazer pocket. He pulls out a slim, red candy stick wrapped in plastic and hands that to Loki as well.

Loki stares at it. “What is this?”

“Something better than grapes or nuts,” Mobius says dryly. “It’s a Twizzler. Popular Earth candy. I’d say don’t tell anyone I’ve stashed a bunch, but …” He trails off and shrugs, glancing around at the kitchen with forced amusement. “Doesn’t really matter anymore, does it?”

He pulls out a second Twizzler and unwraps the plastic, then bites into the candy. Loki watches him for a moment, and then imitates him. “Gross,” he says, after he’s taken a bite. It’s a very bland candy, with texture not unlike rubber. “Think I prefer grapes.”

“Well, maybe Twizzlers are an acquired taste,” says Mobius.

Loki finishes the Twizzler anyway, and then takes a sip of coffee. He does usually dislike coffee, but either he’s hungrier than he’d realized or Mobius has a gift, because this cup is actually quite good.

“Okay, now let’s go back to the beginning,” Mobius prompts, after a silence. He drums his fingertips against the table. “What happened? I’m assuming you were able to enchant the murder cloud?”

All of the words that had been spilling from Loki’s lips before, so desperate to be released, now get stuck somewhere in his throat. He wraps his hands around his mug and takes another sip of coffee, wondering idly how long it had been since he’d actually had something warm to drink. Or eat, for that matter. The train on Lamentis, perhaps. A moment ago, a lifetime ago.

“We did,” he finally says. Despite the coffee, a chill breaks out over his skin and he sets the mug down, choosing to fold his arms as if to fold into himself for warmth. “We made it past Alioth and found him - the one who’s responsible for all of this.”

Just like that, the words are no longer stuck. Loki pours out the entire story, starting from when he and Sylvie had crossed the threshold into the citadel and ending with his own tumble back through the tempad’s portal into the TVA.

But he omits the kiss, only mentioning that Sylvie had distracted him to get the upper hand. He’ll never speak of it - either that Sylvie had used his feelings for her in order to betray him, or that he’d fallen for it (of course he’d fallen for it; for a few seconds there, he’d let himself believe - but, it doesn’t matter, it wasn’t real, and there are bigger problems now).

“She closed the portal before I could get back through it,” Loki says. He notices that he’s twisting his fingers together so tightly that his knuckles are turning white. He forces himself to stop. “I can only imagine she finished the job after that because, well.” He barks a laugh that sounds, even to his own ears, broken and pathetic. He used to be so good at maintaining a cool, calm facade but it, like so many other things, had been steadily breaking apart, piece by piece. There is very little left to guard the scared little ice runt who trembles at the core.

“Look at the timeline,” he adds; he laughs again and rubs his eyes against a fresh wave of tears.

For a long time, neither of them say anything. Loki finishes his coffee and Mobius eats two more Twizzlers before another word is spoken.

“So we lost.” Mobius’s voice is hollow. “We lost before we could begin to fight.”

“I’m sorry.”

Mobius shrugs. He runs a hand over his short, gray hair before letting out a laugh of his own. “He Who Remains,” he repeats, more to himself than to Loki.

Loki allows a beat to pass. “We have to try to fix it, Mobius.” The only way to ease the weight of his guilt, Loki knows, is if he goes back and tries to make it right - or to die trying.

“How are we supposed to do that?” It’s Mobius’s turn to rub his eyes. His shoulders slump and for a moment, he looks very tired. Older. Loki studies him and wonders, fleetingly, if the real Mobius is someone’s father. “I don’t even know where to begin, Loki.”

“I might.” Loki straightens. Deep down, beneath the anguish, a seed of determination has taken hold and he focuses on that; a lifeline. “But you’ll need to trust me.”

#charlotte writes #follower celebration prompt series #loki series spoilers #loki spoilers #loki tv series spoilers #loki series positive #loki + mobius (platonic)#hurt/comfort #validatemepls #i was listening to the titanic soundtrack as i wrote this lmfao

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marvelobsessedteenager · 4 years ago

Text

All The Hurt - Chapter 2

Pairing: Peter Parker x fem!reader

Warnings: ANGST, Peter was an ass, reader is a hurt and petty bitch, fluff to make up for the angst, curse words, lots of “coincidences”

Word Count: 4.1k

A/n: The amount of love I've gotten is absolutely incredible. Thank you guys for the support! Enjoy :3 -----------------------------------------

Flash had suggested driving both him and yourself to Liz’s house, and you agreed, simply because car rides with him were more fun. You got there earlier than anyone else, giving Flash time to set up his DJ equipment and speakers while you helped Liz and Betty set up the lights, food, and drinks.

Not an hour later and the house was full of people that you knew and didn’t know, but welcomed anyway. Everybody walking around was having a good time, drinking soda out of a red solo cup and dancing to Flash’s party music. You would be lying if you told yourself your eyes weren’t examining the dance floor for a particular bed of curls.

In your mind, you knew there was no way Peter knew Spider-Man. You saw it in the way he told everyone he did today at the gym. His left hand was wildly shaking — a clear telltale of nerves you’d figured out long ago.

Something else was bothering you, though, even if you didn’t want to admit it.

That bruise. You knew for a fact Peter wasn’t a fighter, mainly when it came to bullies - words or actions. He never retaliated, which is why people considered him an easy target. You wouldn’t put it past him to allow himself to get beaten up, but you would have known if that’d happened. Flash was definitely his number one bully, but he wouldn’t dare lay a finger on Peter, and neither would any of his friends, especially since they all knew your history with Peter.

They were all bark and no bite, which meant that there was another explanation for it, but for the love of God, you couldn’t figure out what it was.

And speak of the devil.

You smirked as you caught sight of him, worried thoughts vanishing as you weaved your way through the crowd to Flash, whispering in his ear about your discovery. He flashed you a wicked smile, turned down the music, and grabbed the mic.

“Penis Parker! What’s up?” Flash yelled into the mic, causing Peter to freeze and turn to look at Flash, who was pointing right at him.

“Hey, Y/n,” Flash pretended to search the crowd then turned to you, “Where do you think his pal Spider-Man is?” He placed the mic below your lips and waited for your preplanned answer.

“Hm, let me a guess.” You sweetly said, tapping your chin like you were thinking, “in Canada with his imaginary girlfriend?” You raised your eyebrows, eyes boring into Peter’s with fire burning behind your pupils, your brain ignoring your heart that was begging you to stop upsetting him as you caught the flash of hurt that crossed his features.

The crowd laughed and “ooh” ed as Flash played a “burn” sound effect, “That’s not Spider-Man,” He jutted his chin towards Ned, “that’s just Ned in a red shirt.”

You watched him walk away from the giggling crowd, fuming, and you bumped your fist with Flash's in victory. He turned up the music, and you made your way to the dance floor with your friends, as you swayed your hips to the loud tune. Your group sang loudly to the songs, and though it was deafening and off-tune, you never felt freer than when you screamed the lyrics with them.

At some point, your voice started sounding raspy, and your throat was begging you for some sort of liquid to heal the ache. You excused yourself from the group, walked to the kitchen and grabbed a solo cup, filling it with cool water and chugging it down.

But, of fucking course, someone had to ruin your night and your favorite white dress by bumping into you and spilling coke on your outfit. That someone was a girl with piercing blue eyes and brown hair — someone you didn't recognize. It was clear she didn’t go to Midtown considering she squeaked an apology and ran to her friends, who glanced back at you and immediately dashed out of the house.

Great.

You would ask Liz for another dress, but you weren’t exactly tight with her. You’d also ask your friends to take you home to change, but as you looked at them jumping around and bobbing their heads to the music, you figured they were having too much fun, and you didn’t want to ruin it.

You would normally call your driver, but you hadn’t had the chance to set up your new phone just yet.

Sighing, you grabbed your denim jacket you hid below the counter earlier, put it on, and began your journey home on foot. Your house was located about thirty minutes away from Liz’s, which wasn’t really a big deal for you.

About fifteen minutes of strolling in silence and kicking any rock that caught your eye, you passed by a playground that looked familiar. It was the very same playground you and Peter would play in when you were children. You’d take turns pushing each other on the swing, and when you were old enough to do it yourself, you would both compete to see who’d go higher and who could jump off the swing the farthest. It always resulted in an injury, but you two always laughed it off, especially when Jane would run over worriedly with a first-aid kit.

As you went into your early teenage years, you’d meet at the playground alone and climb to the top of the dome climber with different (and disgusting) flavored milkshakes, exchanging it with each other every now and again, and watch the river flow peacefully.

The same river in which Iron-Man is flying out of with Spider-Man in his arms.

Wait, what?

You snapped out of your reverie and did a double take before you quickly dove into one of the many bushes, the quick rate of your heartbeat becoming a distraction from the fresh cut on your exposed neck from the sharp branches.

You could see everything that was happening in front of you, but not necessarily hear everything. Your wide eyes curiously peeked over the bushes, watching as Iron-Man placed Spider-Man on the dome. And maybe it was your hearing, but you swore you knew the high pitched voice that was exaggeratedly saying something.

You saw Spider-Man tug his mask off and wring it out, which made the back of his head incredibly visible. Brown hair. Or maybe black. It was too dark to see the difference. You debated moving a little closer to hear the conversation.

Deep down, you knew it wasn’t right. Spider-Man was entitled to protect his identity. But you could keep a secret. Besides, maybe this could be the moment you’d thank him for saving you. You doubted he’d remember what he did, but you’d never forget.

So, you crept a little closer to make out the words, despite your gut telling you you shouldn’t.

“What were you thinking?” Iron-Man asked in a way that made you believe Spider-Man was in trouble.

“The guy with the wings is obviously the source of the weapons, I gotta take him down!”

Wait. That sounds like-

“Take him down now, huh? Steady, Crockett, there are people who handle this sort of thing.” Iron-Man said, waving his arm around.

“The Avengers?”

“No, no, no, just a little below their…pay grade.”

“Anyway, Mr. Stark, you didn’t have to come all the way out here, I-I had that. I was fine.”

But that was all you could hear. Because as the conversation went on, the gears in your head begun turning, the dots seemed to connect faster than you could comprehend.

The strange bruise on his jaw after it was shown on the news that a certain superhero fought robbers at the bank across Delmar’s. Him running out of school once it was over. The fact that he left school for two weeks and mysteriously came back. Him ‘allegedly’ saying your name when he saved you. All the times he ditched you in the past were the same times Spider-Man was on the news for a heroic saving. You remembered because you’d send the news to Peter. The “Stark Internship” excuse wasn’t real.

But this was.

Peter Parker is Spider-Man.

Peter Parker saved your life.

The amount of information was loud. So, so, loud. You couldn’t hear the bickering that went on. A rush of emotions went through you. The first was rage. Is this it? Is this is his reason for letting you go? He couldn’t have just been honest and told you? You bet he told Ned. But he couldn’t tell you, could he?

But just as quickly as it came, your anger left you, instead being replaced with worry. You hated to admit it, but you were worried about him. How could he go out there every day and put his life on the line like that? What about his wounds and injuries? Did he suffer through those alone? Or did May help him heal?

Does May even know? Does anybody know?

Lastly, panic, and that was the strongest of them all. Holy shit, you thought, I just found out that my ex best friend and former crush is a superhero. He shoots webs out of his hands or something and sticks to walls and saves strangers and fights criminals and-

And Iron-Man is flying away.

And Spider-Man is walking in your direction.

I need to go.

As soon as you turned around, still crouched but ready to fucking bolt, you accidentally stepped on something hard, and you had to bite your tongue to keep your hissing inside. Once the pain slightly subsided, you looked downwards and moved your head closer to the object. A loud purring sound was emitting from it, and if there was anything in this world that screamed danger, it was this.

You were careful to pick it up and examine it. In the middle of this..machine was a bright purple stone and it was fucking glowing. You looked around you and caught Spider-Man muttering something to himself right before an obnoxious ringing made its way into your ears, prompting you to cringe and put your hands over them as you crouched.

It’s the same annoying fucking ringtone as Peter’s.

You waited for him to move a little farther, and when he did, you peeked from behind the bush. He had just closed the phone and continued his walk. You didn’t know if this thing was a bomb or something explosive, so throwing it in his direction was already ruled out. Besides, he was already beyond throw distance. You knew the safest way to get it to him.

You knew what to do. You hated that you did, but you had to do it.

Maybe hearing him talk to you would confirm or deny your hypothesis. Anybody could have brown hair, a high-pitched voice and the same ringtone as your ex-best friend and be a superhero that saved you two weeks ago.

You took a deep breath to calm your hammering heart from ripping through your ribcage and escaping. “I hate my life,” you mumbled as you rose and followed him with your heart still beating out of your chest, almost sure it was louder than your barely audible footsteps.

Don’t trip, don’t trip.

When you got close to him, close enough to tap him on the shoulder, he quickly turned around and got into a fighting position with his fists ready to punch. You were so shocked that you dropped the object and backed away with your hands up, “Whoa, whoa, whoa, easy. ”

Upon seeing a citizen (that he knew too well) he dropped his stance, “S-uh..sorry. I-I thought you..uh..” He cleared his throat, “Sorry, ma’am. How can I help you?” He said, very clearly thickening his voice and awkwardly placing his hands on his hips.

But you knew that sound anywhere.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. It is him.

You attempted to swallow the lump in your throat as you felt it clogging your ability to breathe.

“Uh, hi. I’m Y/n.” You mentally smacked yourself. He already knows you, dumbass.

Should you tell him he knows you, though? Should you tell him you know him? No, what? You vehemently shook your head.

“A-anyway I, um, found this-” You picked up the object and turned it around in your hands, “-on my way home and I think it’ll help you? I don’t know, it’s definitely not man-made, I suppose. I’m not exactly an expert but I thought you’d be and you just so happened to be in my neighborhood and I am, too, and this thing is glowing and-”

His spider..eye..thingies were as wide as saucers, and it was only now that you noticed you were rambling. Your cheeks flushed, and you immediately cursed at your body for betraying you.

This is worse than tripping.

“Sorry,” you looked down at your shoes, "I babble when I’m-“ Nope. Not letting him know you’re nervous. Not that he doesn’t already know. You found yourself regretting telling him all your triggers and quirks in the past, because right now, you couldn’t tell whether he could figure you out or not.

He probably could, though.

This night just kept getting worse. Pack it up already.

You cleared your throat and straightened your shoulders in the most confident way you could, “Here,” you outstretched your arm to him, waiting for him to grab the foreign object, but all he did was stare, and stare, and stare. You didn't really know where to look, and you didn't know if he was gazing at you or not, but before you could say anything, he snapped out of whatever he was in and took a hold of the object. You tried not to think about his masked fingers that grazed yours.

“Thanks, uh, Y/n.” He said, not as intrigued by the object as you thought he’d be. Instead, he seemed to be looking at you. Or behind you. You still couldn't tell. You were too caught up in the way he said your name. It felt strangely familiar, and comforted you for a moment. It made you feel safe and wanted. Loved.

Before the memories reminded you of what he’d done.

“Sure,” you nodded, slowly backing away, “um, see you...around.”

“Yeah.”

As you turned on your heel to continue your trip home, he pipped up, “Oh, um, would- do you want me to walk you home? It’s really dark out here.”

You entertained the thought in your head for a second. "What could possibly happen if he walked you home, besides guaranteeing you safety?” Your heart spoke.

"Oh, I don’t know, you could accidentally blurt out that you know him, and then things will get even more awkward than they already are.” Your brain fought back, stubborn as ever.

Yeah, you’re definitely just going to pass up his offer.

“I’m, uh, I’m good. Need a little time to myself.” You nervously chuckled, wrapping your arms around yourself, “Thanks, though, I appreciate it.”

“Yeah.” He repeated, shifting his weight from one foot to another as he watched you walk away from him.

Like he’d done to you.

The rest of the fifteen minutes passed by faster than you anticipated, but maybe it was because you were too preoccupied considering you just confirmed your ex-best friend was a fucking superhero with fucking superpowers. As the confirmation made its way into your brain, you noticed that the signs were right beneath your nose, but you weren’t observant enough to figure it out. They started before he left you.

How did it start to begin with? Has he always had these powers?

Wait, no. Because Spider-Man wasn’t always around. And even if he really did have them for a long time, why leave you now? It must’ve been recent, you concluded.

But how? How does one go from an ordinary, lanky teenager to a robust superhero who can stop a speeding bus with his bare hands?

As one question was answered, another one took its place. The list just kept going and going, without a clear sign of it stopping.

In all honesty, you thought the videos that popped up on your YouTube recommended page of a web-slinging human were staged. In your defense, he seemed quite small to be a hero, and it wouldn’t be the first time some kid tried to fool the world with “a new superhero". You remember sending it to Peter and asking him if he thought it was real.

He never answered.

You hadn’t realized you were standing on your porch, staring at the overly large mahogany door in front of you. You sighed and took out your keys, placing them in the lock and twisting it.

You were lucky today was the beginning of the weekend. You wouldn’t be able to face him after seeing what you just saw. You didn’t know how to feel. You didn’t know what to do. Should you let him know that you know?

Should you let anyone know that you know?

That was the worst part about this whole thing. You had no one to turn to. No one to talk to about this, and there definitely wouldn’t be a wikiHow page on how to deal with something like this.

So, you ruled it out. One of the choices was obviously keeping the secret to yourself and not telling Peter you knew his identity. It would keep things from getting too awkward to handle and would keep him safe.

The other choice, the really horrible one, was to let everyone know. A part of you was still mad at what he’d done. You mean, he didn’t even try to apologize as he should’ve. That evil part of you, the hurt part, wanted revenge — wanted you to ruin Peter like he did you.

You knew people would believe you if you told them. You knew they’d find their ways to figure out if it’s true or not. But for some reason, you were hesitant. Yes, Peter ruined your life. Yes, Peter broke you in ways you believed were beyond mendable.

But Peter was also the boy who gave you his last Iron-Man bandaid when you scraped your elbow the first time you met. He’s the boy who pushed your bully and got punched in the face for it when you were ten. He’s the boy who saved your life the other day - the boy who saves dozens of strangers every week.

It was clear which option was better.

Keeping his secret didn’t mean you forgave him, though.

After everything, you didn’t know if you allowed yourself to forgive him. Part of you wanted you to, pleaded you to for the sake of moving on, but the more stubborn part of you remembered the pain you went through; the nights you spent crying yourself to sleep, the newfound insecurities of not being enough for anybody, the fear that others will leave you behind like he did.

Hell, you had a locked note in your notes app that contained a long speech about how you felt — about how he made you feel. The one you were to send him — but ended up deleting.

You groaned and rubbed your head, feeling an oncoming headache from the questions. You stayed in your house that weekend, trapped with a racing mind and no answers to slow it down.

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You started noticing Peter act differently towards you when your freshman year of high school was close to ending. It started off with him rescheduling long-awaited plans and then showing up late, but you didn’t mind. He had told you he scored an internship at Stark Industries, and you swore you’d never felt prouder in your entire life.

He informed you that he could be called in at any given moment, which was his reason for leaving in the middle of your hangouts. You understood, and so, you encouraged him to do so.

But then, as time went by, you noticed a change. Instead of postponing the plans, he’d cancel them all together and wouldn’t make up for them. And sometimes, in the rare occasion in which he did postpone them, he’d stand you up, keeping you awake until you were on the brink of sleep.

He apologized multiple times for doing so, blaming it on the time the internship took for him, and you let it go, even when it became a pattern to leave you stranded.

You were okay with it.

Until it became too much.

During lunch, you could never find him, which ended up with you eating alone. During the only class you shared with him, he’d zone out while you were talking and completely ignore you. You’d normally come out of your last period ready to see him standing by your locker to begin your journey home, but he stopped being there, and you would walk home alone.

Texts and calls went unnoticed, and you felt the barrier he had placed between the two of you grow higher and higher as the time passed by.

What bothered you is that it was just with you. He acted completely normal around Ned. You often saw them chatting and laughing while you watched from afar, heart breaking into two as you wondered where you went wrong. You inspected every text message you sent and every conversation you had, often staying up late re-reading it until you reached the top. You just didn’t understand what happened.

One day, you approached him after school, running after him as he bolted through the school’s gates into the outside.

“Hey!” You called as you caught up to him and grabbed his arm, which flexed beneath your grip. You sighed and slightly loosened your grasp, “Can, um, can we talk?”

Peter visibly gulped, hesitantly nodding as his eyes bounced around your figure, never looking at you.

“Peter.” You ran a hand through your hair, carefully choosing your next words as to approach this topic cautiously, “What’s going on with you? You..you’ve been acting weird and distant. D-did do something?”

“I’m not acting weird,” Peter said, almost offendedly, quick to defend himself.

“Peter we haven’t hung out in weeks because you’ve been canceling them.” You retaliated.

“I told you, I-it’s the internship.”

You frowned, heart clenching at the tiredness that seeped into his voice, “I know.” You gave him a small smile, hoping for one in return, “I’m your best friend. I’m always here for you, you know.”

“I-“ He sharply inhaled, scratching the back of his head with his shaking left hand. “I don’t want you to be.”

Your smile instantly dropped, feeling a painful nudge in your stomach, “What?”

“I don’t..this isn’t working, Y/n. We can’t be friends anymore. I’m done.” He said. And so easily, too.

I’m done, he’d said.

Your heart stopped for a moment, taken aback by his bluntness and the harshness that came with his words, “What? Why? N-no.” You denied, "You’re just gonna leave? You can’t do that, I..What did I do?”

“Nothing. It’s just..it’s just better this way.” Peter visibly gulped, looking around the streets like he wasn’t standing there, breaking your fragile heart into pieces while you were trying your hardest to not fall apart right in front of him.

Dignity was still a thing. But so was your friendship.

“I can’t fix this if you won’t let me, Pete.” You pleaded, hoping he’d admit that something was wrong - that it wasn’t you that he was pushing away, that there was a reason for him doing so. You could fix this. You could.

“There’s nothing to fix. I don’t want to be friends, that’s it.” He shrugged, shuffling backward, getting ready to make a run from it.

“No,” you stopped him, grabbing his hand softly, despite the tears that already ran down your face, “There has to be a reason! Y-you can’t just leave like that! Give me a reason! WHAT DID I DO?!”

When he didn’t respond, you gave his loose hand a squeeze and wiped your tears with your sleeve, already feeling stupid for the amount of vulnerability you were displaying, especially when you weren’t getting any sort of reaction out of him besides coldness.

“Peter. Peter, please, just l-let me fix this.” You said, voice cracking, "You’re all I have left. Please don’t do this.”

You were begging. You knew you were, but you couldn’t let him leave without putting up a fight. You were a step away from begging on your knees, but you didn’t. You were able to stop yourself from doing so, but you still believed you could get through whatever this is - you were so sure of it.

But you never did.

And you swore he had ripped your heart from your chest, stepped on it, and nonchalantly walked away, leaving you to deal with the pain of the heartbreak on the sidewalk.

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#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker fluff #peter parker angst #peter parker x y/n #tom holland #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fanfic #tom holland x reader #tom holland angst #spiderman #spiderman x reader #marvel

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anyoneseenadam · 4 years ago

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Home: Chapter Seven

azriel x reader (acotar)

summary: (y/n) is a daughter of Persephone, still recovering from the trauma of her fall into Tartarus and doesn’t have time for a stupid, handsome, annoying, stunning, injured man. But now they’re stuck together in the middle of nowhere and there only chance of getting home is if she can heal him, and fast.

warnings: big spoilers for mark of Athena and house of Hades, also for the acotar series, eventual smut, blood, PTSD, graphic descriptions of violence, injuries and torture, enemies to lovers so az is a bit of a dick to start, swearing,

word count: 3.9k

a/n: I’m entirely writing this to distract myself from the real world but honesty I’m having a great time, I think there will be one more chapter after this one and maybe an epilogue but asides from that, also feel free to message or ask if you want to be tagged :)) anyway enjoy and pls comment and shiz :)

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Azriel had once joked that you were like an actual flower, needing water and sunlight to use your powers. At the time you had laughed but now as you stood in front of the mirror, wiping the tears from under your eyes, and preparing to walk into the world of all things dead, you understood. The dress you wore was one of the few fancy ones you reserved for the dinners you were often dragged to before your fall. It was lavender, with tulle cascading down your legs from the waist, paired with a tight corset top and tulle off-the-shoulder sleeves. As you sat with a ‘humph’ and started applying your makeup, your stepbrother walked in.

“Well you look cheery,” Nico said, sitting on your bed.

“I look like an evil power puff girl,”

“You look like you are a princess, which you are so my dad is going to be pleased.”

“I really don’t care what he thinks,” you snapped, and Nico help up his hands. He was wearing all black as usual, simple dress pants and a loose black shirt tucked in, his belt matched his rings, and his dark hair and even darker eye bags made him look every bit the Underworld prince. “Sorry, I’m not mad at you,” you said turning back around to carry on with your makeup.

“I know, it’s stressful for you,” he moved to sit next to you, resting his head on your shoulder and you applied eyeliner.

“I don’t wanna get sick again, I have things to do. Plus I’ve got to convince your dad to let me ask for this favour. I just feel like it’s all going to go to shit.”

“I get it, you’ll be fine though. Also I’m pretty sure your mum is going to do anything for you if it means you’ll speak to her again, so she’ll be on your side at least. That’s three vs one.” He nudged you as you put down the eyeliner.

“That’s true.” You bit the inside of your lip and Nico, sensing your worry, changed topic.

“Tell me about Azriel,” He said, and you caught his eye in the mirror.

“Huh?”

“Well I gotta make sure that when you become his problem it will be permanent, I don’t want you coming back,” he joked.

“Fuck you,” you laughed shoving his shoulder and he giggled, rolling onto his back.

“I don’t want to do thisssss,” Nico said in a sing-song voice lying flat on the floor.

“Me neither but I’m not going in alone bitch,” you laughed, starting to feel slightly better. It was moments like this that made you regret pushing your friends away, the thought of seeing them was always scary but when you were with your brother again you remembered why you loved them so much. You assessed your outfit in the mirror and sighed.

“What?” Nico asked, sitting back up.

“This would look really nice with a dark red lip,” you said, biting your lip.

“Do you have one?” he asked, and you nodded. He was quiet for a second before reaching out and ruffling through your makeup, finding your favourite red lipstick. “Do you wanna try?”

“Yeah, but if I cry it’ll mess up my eyeliner.” You said with a shaky laugh. He laughed quietly handing you the lipstick and you looked at him in the mirror, taking in a shuddering breath. You were stronger than this and you could handle it. You closed your eyes for a minute, counting your breaths, before opening the lipstick.

Once it was applied you lifted your chin, staring down the girl in the mirror. Nico grabbed your hand softly and you tore your eyes away, standing and pulling on your shoes.

“Are you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

Azriel was in a shit mood. He was 90% sure that you had cast some sort of spell on him when he was with you, something that made him happy and relaxed, because now that you weren’t here he pretty much wanted to throttle everyone.

Amren had been helping him look for a way to get back to you. The first thing they had tried was winnowing, he pictured your face; your smile, the way your hands felt in his, but no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t reach you. So they had been scanning books since then, reading up on every theory and myth. Nesta had brought him to speak to Gwyn who had told him about the theory that there could be up to at least 20 other worlds. Amren had also made him talk through every detail about this world he could remember, writing diligent notes as Cassian gave him weird looks when he spoke about Bucky Barnes.

“He’s a character, it’s a simple concept.”

“Yeah but how do you get an emotional connection to a character?”

“Shut up both of you.”

The pain in his chest was only growing as well, and he came to the daunting realisation that if he failed this; if he couldn’t get back to you, or get you back to him, he would probably have to deal with it for the rest of his long, long life.

He felt bad for taking his frustrations out on his family who were just worried about him, but he had never felt this way before. All he could think of was the way your eyes cleared when the realisation dawned on you. The way you had gone from sobs to a different, all-consuming kind of pain, just for a second, your eyes clearing as you realised you might never see him again. He hated himself for not being strong enough to put up a fight, he knew he wasn’t a match for a god, but he should’ve tried, he was too shocked at the time, too heartbroken, but now he was terrified that you might think he gave up on you. He had to get back to you, he was afraid what you might do if you were alone again. If you were alone after having the bond dangled in front of you, only to have it ripped away moments later.

It was almost 3am and everyone else in the house had gone to bed, but Azriel didn’t sleep well normally, and he especially wouldn’t while he was apart from you. He looked up from his book when he heard someone clear their throat, his head whipped up an incredulous smile gracing his features when he saw you sitting there.

“Baby,” he started moving forward but you held your hand up, stopping him.

“Oh that’s just too sweet, you kids are giving me so much content,” you dabbed at your eyes, and Azriel frowned.

“(y/n)? what’s going on?”

“Oh I’m not (y/n) sweetie, but that’s just adorable. My name is Aphrodite, Goddess of love and beauty, I often appear as whoever you find most beautiful.” Azriel’s heart dropped, the brief happiness he felt seeing your face gone as the lady spoke.

“Aphrodite? Hermes mentioned you.” He said, tensing as he realised he was dealing with another god. “In fact he said it was your fault this all happened.”

“Oh Hermes, always blaming someone else. You should be thanking me.”

“And why would I do that.” Azriel knew the look on his face was deadly, but something about seeing a god cower under his gaze was feeding his ego.

“Haven’t you worked out why you can’t travel back to her.” She raised her eyebrows at him, her expressions may be on your face, but as he paid more attention she seemed like a completely different person. “I have the power to move through world’s, you do not. I just thought that poor, sweet girl had been through enough that she should get to meet her soulmate. I waited for you after your mission and then just made you forget and let the two of you fall in love naturally, I mean I get teary eyed thinking about it, you’re just too cute!”

Azriel’s shoulders relaxed slightly, “So why are you here? Are you going to bring her to me?”

“Hmm I could, but I’d get in so much trouble, plus she’s very smart and I want to see if her plan works. You people are so very entertaining.” Her face rippled for a second as she turned, and she briefly looked like Mor, then Elain, then back to you. “But you, poor boy,” He chose to ignore the condescending tone, “You were dealt a very bad hand love wise, so maybe if she doesn’t succeed I could pull a few strings, but I do have a holiday planned so it may be a few decades.”

Her laugh made him feel sick and he glared at her, “What did you say about her plan?”

“Oh yes! She’s going down to the underworld to try find a solution,” Aphrodite was moving around the room gracefully as Azriel sat back down, the weight of Aphrodite’s easy words hitting him. She picked up one of the books laying on the desk and made an unimpressed noise, throwing it back down carelessly.

“That’s where the dead go right?” he asked, silently praying he was wrong,

“Yup! Don’t worry though, her mother lives there too,” she said ‘mother’ with a slight snarl, but Azriel ignored her. “You know I get why she likes you, you’re very pretty aren’t you?” She walked over to him, swaying your hips and he had to remind himself it wasn’t you as she sat down in his lap, forcing his hands to stay clenched at his side. She ran your hand along his jaw, tilting her head with a smile as she stroked his face. Her thumb rested on his bottom lip as he glared at her with murderous rage, trying to reel it in as he remembered she was possibly the only one that could help him.

“Well I guess I better go,” She sighed dramatically then pressed a perfectly polished gold coin into his hand, “Flip this if you need me, emergencies and sex only.” She winked at him, before kissing his cheek and standing, waving seductively before vanishing. Azriel sat for a few minutes, reeling from the interaction he just had. Is this the world I’ve entered now? Gods who can do whatever they want? He wondered if that’s why you avoided talking about the Gods, if maybe growing up with this had made you bitter to them. He wanted to ask you and talk to you about it, or anything for that matter but instead he just pocketed the coin and stood, winnowing to his room, and collapsing on his bed.

“Sweetie, you look beautiful,” Your mother cried out as you and Nico arrived, you were leaning heavily on his arm, while surrounded by death, the coldness of a lifeless place seeped into your bones and weakened you, you had learnt as much the first time you visited. You gave your mother a tight-lipped smile and hugged her awkwardly.

“Oh I missed you so much dear,” she stroked your hair, and you fought the urge to roll your eyes.

“You could’ve visited.” It was hard to keep the bitterness out of your voice, after all you had gone through and she hadn’t visited once. A look of shock passed over her face but before she could reply Hades thundered in, his usual outfit, ‘the robes of death and despair’ as you fondly called them, were replaced by a dark suit, his hair slicked back from his face. He came to Persephone’s side and rested a hand around her waist pulling her in slightly, and despite yourself you felt a little jealous of their closeness as your mother looked up at him with doe eyes.

“Nico, my son, how are you?” Hades deep voice silenced the room, the very air seeming to stand still, and Nico flushed red as he was put on the spot. The four of you exchanged pleasantries as you made your way to the ridiculously long table, Hades sat at the head on one side, Persephone on the other, with Nico and you facing each other in the centre. The wood was dark, but the table was covered in all sorts of colourful food and you all helped yourselves while making small talk, only managing to hear your parents due to the eery silence of the room, dead guards not needing to make any noise.

After the first few courses and once you had consumed enough white wine to gain some courage you turned to face your mother.

“Mum, I think I need a favour if that’s okay?” you asked with great caution, extremely aware of the powerful forces surrounding you.

“Well that depends dear. What is it?”

“After the battle and the… fall, I never got my reward remember, I instead asked to be able to come get it when I needed it.”

“Yes of course, I thought that was very smart!” your mother spoke cheerfully but you could feel Hades’ gaze on your back, burning through your skin and bones to the very essence of your soul. “Let me guess, you need it now?”

“If that’s okay, some things have changed recently and I now know what I need,” you smiled at her, “I met a man, well actually he’s a faerie. Aphrodite wanted us to meet because we’re soulmates and after my fall she thought I deserved to see him, but since he’s from another world he had to go back, and we can’t be together.” You wiped away a few stray tears you forced out; this was your game. Your mother didn’t visit you often so she had never seen this side of you, the side that could manipulate even a god into giving you what you wanted. “So I thought, maybe for my reward I could become Fae and be permitted to live with Azriel in his world, and maybe come and visit my friends occasionally?”

“Oh that sounds lovely dear! That’s so alike me, I had to beg my mother and even then she didn’t let me stay here,” your mother rattled on and you smiled at her, but your shoulders were still tense as you knew you hadn’t won yet. You turned to where Hades sat, rubbing his temples.

“I get it. I do. But I really don’t think my brother would allow that, it’s too much.”

“Too much?” you asked, a bitter laugh escaping.

“I understand you went through a lot,”

“Do you?” you couldn’t stop the biting words, “Because the last I checked you both sat and did nothing while I was tortured down there. You could’ve done something, but you didn’t, you made a choice not to, and now I ask for ONE thing, and it’s too much?” Hades’ glare was murderous, but you weren’t going to back down.

“I mean if you really think about it, I’ll be out of your hair if you agree. One less demi-god always seems to be a win for you guys.” Nico said your name in warning, but you slowly stood. “I am not asking for much, I am asking to be allowed to live a life with the man I love and after all I have been through, fighting YOUR battles, I think it’s the least I deserve.”

You held Hades’ gaze for a few more seconds until he spoke. “Are you sure your not a child of Nyx?” he asked, and you grinned, cocking your head to the side.

“Why would that be?”

“You have a pure evil streak in you girl and uncharted power. You better learn to control it, before someone catches on.”

“We won’t have a problem I’m presuming?”

“I’ll see what I can do,” he said gruffly, going back to his meal and you relaxed, moving to hug your mother goodbye, whispering thanks to her, before linking arms with Nico and leaving.

The next day you awoke to a golden invitation to Olympus, and you smiled, soon. You’d be with him soon.

Olympus looked much nicer since Annabeth had gotten involved. You may have been biased but it seemed to hold a sense of home it never had before, the clinical cleanliness now feeling purer and more loving. The throne room however had remained much the same.

You stood alone in the middle surrounded by the arc of thrones, but you refused to take your eyes of Zeus. You had received a wink from Apollo and a smile from Aphrodite as you walked in but beside that it had been eye contact for at least five minutes. You knew better to speak before you were spoken to but the way they surrounded you and stared down on you was bringing up bad memories and you were really fighting a panic attack.

Seemingly sensing this Apollo cleared his throat, “Perhaps we should start father?” While you were grateful a part of you hated how well the flirtatious god knew you, he was the first to tend to your wounds when you first escaped, healing them enough so you wouldn’t die from blood loss but not enough for anyone to suggest he was picking favourites. His warm hands had provided a sense of comfort you thought you had lost entirely.

Zeus nodded slowly, a letter appearing in his hand, “So these are your terms? Transformation into high Fae, permission to live in a new world with visits back to this one twice a year?” you presumed Hades, or your mother had written the letter, neither of them present currently. You nodded clearly, not entirely trusting your voice.

“I guess it’s only fair, but a full transformation will hurt,”

“I’m sure I can take it.” you lifted your chin, holding your shaking hands tightly in an attempt to conceal them.

Zeus laughed, not taking his eyes of you, “I’m sure you can. Does anyone have any major oppositions?”

Aphrodite raised her hand, “I’d like to add that during her transformation, her womb changes shape so she may birth Illyrian children.” You shot her a grateful look, still not entirely sure why she was suddenly so invested in ensuring your happiness, but you wouldn’t complain.

Hera was the next to speak and you fought the urge to roll your eyes, “Why is she getting special treatment again? What did she do that was so different?”

“She was tortured for days!” Athena exclaimed,

“So?” Ares now.

“She was a child, it was brutal.” Apollo jumped to your aid and soon the chamber was filled with shouting voices as they argued over your fate.

“SILENCE.” Zeus quieted the room instantly and every eye turned to him, but he remained focused on you, “Well then? Answer the question girl, what makes you so special?”

You thought for a second before answering, “I don’t consider it special treatment. After the battles I’ve fought and the pain I’ve endured to help your causes, I’d consider it a form of retirement.” You kept Zeus’ gaze and let a streak of the evil Hades had warned you off show, smiling when his smug smile disappeared. He waved his hand, “Very well then, High Fae with altered womb and permission to live in their world and visit our occasionally, that is all?”

You nodded and he assessed you before holding out his hand, his gaze darkening. You furrowed your eyebrows as your limbs started to tingle before pain took over your entire body.

You had felt pain so many times before, pain that left more than just physical trauma, but this was different. You felt as if your blood had become fire and every bone was breaking as new ones reformed. You didn’t have any sense of time or place, all you could feel was pain. At one point you thought it was over only to open your eyes, feeling impossibly soft sheets beneath you, and see Apollo hovering over you, sweat dripping from his brow as he took some of the pain away, even for just a moment.

When you finally awoke you were on the ground. You stood up quickly, almost knocking yourself over as your movement were much faster than usual. You were outside a glowing city, it didn’t have skyscrapers like New York, but it was so comforting to look at you felt yourself being drawn in. As you crossed the border however, a beautiful man with dark hair appeared, his eyes narrowing.

“Who are you and why are you trying to get in here?” A shot of fear went through you as you felt his magic, it was thick in the air and powerful.

“I’m not going to hurt anyone, I’m just looking for someone,” you explained, swallowing down the lump in your throat. The handsome man’s gaze turned vacant before softening after a moment.

“I apologise, I’m Rhysand. Let me help you find whoever it is, what’s their name?”

“That’s okay, really. His name is Azriel, but I don’t think he’s expecting me.” Rhysand stopped, his head turning towards you, “what is it?” you asked.

“(y/n)?”

“How do you know my name?” you stepped back but he held out his hands,

“No, no I’m Az’s brother, let me take you to him.” he grabbed your arm softly and suddenly you were standing in a warm room facing Azriel. You felt tears fill your eyes as you stared at him, he uttered your name in question and you nodded running into his arms, completely engulfed by his scent, tears of joy running down your face when you suddenly realised something, pulling away.

“Did you say brother?” you turned to Rhysand, feeling all the plants in the air respond to your calls, when Azriel tugged you back to him.

“Not biological don’t worry.” He whispered and Rhysand laughed.

“I like her.”

“Hmm I was two seconds away from castrating you,” His eyes widened slightly and you laughed, turning back to Azriel as he looked over you.

“How- you, you’re Fae?” His eyes were filled with worry again, afraid he was being tricked.

“I never got my reward remember, I knew I would need it in the future,” you smiled at him as he cupped your face and leaned down to kiss you. You pulled apart, Azriel growling when you heard catcalls, turning, and seeing the room had practically filled. A shot of fear went through you as your eyes landed on another man who had red siphons, and Azriel followed your gaze, a hand stroking your face in reassurance.

“So this must be (y/n), welcome to our home, I’m Feyre,” A beautiful woman stepped forward and clasped your hand in hers, which you noted were stained from paint. Everyone else soon made introductions and they urged you to sit as you found out about this makeshift family Azriel was in.

“Oh! That’ll be Nyx, I’ll go,” Feyre said when a baby started crying in the distance,

“Wait what did she say the babies name was?” You asked, holding in a laugh.

“Nyx?” Rhys said,

“Oh, course, cool cool cool,”

“What?” Azriel asked, looking at you strangely.

“I’ve kind of met her,”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, she’s like the evilest deity there is, and she did not like me,” Rhysand stared at you with a look of shock on his face, but before anyone said anything else, Amren was laughing loudly.

“You must tell me all about these Gods girl.”

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

tags: @tastedlikedamnation

#acotar #acowar #acofs #acomaf #acofas #Azriel #azriel x reader #percyjackson #Heroes of Olympus

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falcor-thee-luck-dragon · 4 years ago

Text

Under A Storm - Bucky Barnes x mystery (f)reader Avenger

Summary: You’ve been in love with Bucky for awhile now, and so has he, what will happen when you reveal your true origins? Will he still love you?

Warning: got some good’ol angst, fluffy times with Bucky I don’t hate you I promise

Masterlist

“I think I’m winning. Just putting that out there.” You quip, not even breaking a sweat as Bucky uses everything in his power to get your arm to budge, even just a little.

“I’m trying...just give me a moment..” Grumbles Bucky as he strains to keep his metal arm from reaching defeat at the end of the table.

For the entirety of the day the two of you have been wandering around the Avengers base with nothing better to do then annoy Tony in his lab, and harass Clint who’s recovering from a broken arm while everyone else is off somewhere in the Netherlands, probably freezing their asses off.

Luckily for you, Steve said this was your vacation week, while Bucky on the other hand was told to hang back while his abdominal scars heal up nice and pretty. And since you could care less about heading down south to some fancy and excessively hot beach all on your lonesome, you’ve decided to keep your friends company. Especially Bucky.

But if you’re being honest with yourself here, you mostly just stayed to spend time with Bucky. Ah yes, that beautifully handsome blue eyed bastard with the metal arm and incredibly good looks paired with an equally as stellar personality.

It’s almost like the universe said “I know you’ve had a hard time down there so here’s this literal angel for you, you’re welcome, lots of love now go and do nothing about it sucker.”

It’s not like you didn’t want to make a move, it’s just, you’re origins are so different from his. In fact, your ass isn’t even from earth! You’re not even an actual human being! Granted you look humanly enough, separate from the fact that you’ve got a beautiful pair of darkly colored curled horns, and eyes the color of fire embers that reflects light due to your nocturnal vision.

But other then those little oddities about yourself, you look pretty normal, even more so when wearing a hoodie and sunglasses. Which has become a staple of your usual street attire in general and even when on missions.

Even with all the mystery that still surrounds you and that you’ve kept hidden within yourself since you’ve met him, Bucky likes having you around anyway, and without a doubt you are his favorite person on the team.

Smiling adoringly, you chuckle while Bucky struggles to pin your arm to the table, while your arm holds his up with little effort due to your inhuman strength.

He’s trying really hard, putting all of his effort and sweat into winning this round, which would be the first if he does happen to win, which you already know won’t be happening today, nor the next week.

“Just give me a moment.” Mutters Bucky through clenched teeth as his metal arm adjusts and readjusts to use as much strength as physically possible by this special Wakandian tech.

Blowing air out of your lips, you casually rest your head against your knuckles on your free hand as you wait for him to finally crack, “Just tap out or I’ll pin you again. And I know how much you hate losing.”

“I’m not tapping out Y/N.” Says Bucky defensively as he focuses all his energy into moving your arm even just an itty bitty inch, something, anything.

“Fine then.” You reply before slamming his metal arm against the table with a loud clang that rings throughout the entire lounging area. He quickly gives you an annoyed look as your face turns into a bright grin.

“I hate you.” Grumbles Bucky as he leans back into the couch.

Snatching your water bottle from the side table, you take a swig before shrugging, “We don’t have room in this house for weak bitches. Barnes I’m sorry to say this but....you’ve gotta go.”

Bucky shakes his head in annoyance before the corners of his eyes begin to crinkle, followed by his beautiful smile and then that contagious laugh. “Y/N I couldn’t make it without you, please be kind.” He pleads jokingly as you set the bottle down.

“I’ll consider your words.” You muse with a dramatic hair flip as he reaches over to take the half empty bottle of water, drinking it all in one long chug that has you memorized for a good ten seconds.

Snapping out of your Bucky-being-unknowingly-hot-without-realizing-it trance, you quickly fake pout, “My water you ass!”

“I’m from Russia so it’s our water.”

“Shut up you just lived there.” You retort before giving him a double take, “And hey.”

“Ah, come on doll let’s go bother Clint again.” Suggests Bucky as he rises to his feet and walks around the table to pull you to yours as well. God all you wanna do is kiss that stupid face of his and shove him back down onto the couch and...

“Hey guys what’s up.” Chirps Clint as Bucky wanders into Tony’s lab, you following right after.

Nodding to him in acknowledgment, you casually shrug while looking around at the various contraptions and work-in-progresses, “Oh you know, the usual.”

“Here to lighten up the place? Things were getting pretty dull.” Confirms Clint just as Tony walks out of the bathroom.

“I heard that. And what? Are we not having fun? Are you not entertained?”

“I’m entertained all right.”

“Exactly.” Points Tony before shifting his attention over to Bucky, “Speaking of entertainment. I need you for a little something out back involving a knife and you throwing it at a couple things I’ve been testing out.”

“He’d love too.” You add with a beaming grin as Bucky turns to glare at you, noticing his agitation you quickly take a step forward and squeeze his shoulders, “Right?”

Pursing his lips together, Bucky turns his head to face an expectant Tony before glaring back down at you, “Sure.”

“Alright great! Just follow me and let’s blow this popsicle stand.” Claps the genius enthusiastically as he gathers a bag full of various materials, making certain to snatch a camera before making for the door. Oh, you’ve gotta watch that tape later.

Releasing your grip from Bucky’s broad shoulders, you hand him a small smile, “Hehe sorry.”

“You owe me you little asshole.” Jokes Bucky with an apprehensive smirk as he swiftly touches your chin affectionately before turning to jog out the door after Tony.

Smiling like a fool in love, you suppress a childish giggle as Clint loudly slurps down a smoothie, “You got it bad kid, you really do.”

Raising a brow at him, you walk over to the swivel chair he’s seated comfortably on and take the free spot on the table nearby, “I’m almost as old as the dinosaurs so don’t call me kid.” You sass, causing him to chuckle.

“Fair point. But still, you’ve got it bad Y/N.” Rolling your ember irises, you let out a huff of air as he grins knowingly, “Decide on telling him anytime soon or are we waiting for something tragic to happen first?”

“I’ll get around to it.” You mutter unenthusiastically as Clint takes another long pause to awkwardly suck down his weirdly colored smoothie.

“Sure. Okay, and I believe the earth is flat.” Snorts Clint, his words absolutely dripping in sarcasm.

Scoffing you throw a dirty cloth at him before letting your head fall into your hands, “It’s too fucking difficult Clint. I’m too goddamn weird.”

“What?” Laughs Clint in bewilderment, genuinely surprised that you would say such a thing considering he’s know you for years and finds that completely false, “I don’t believe that for a second.”

“No it’s true.” You mumble against your palms, “He doesn’t know about everything about me yet, I don’t wanna freak him out just as he’s starting to like me alright.”

“Ah, so he does like you.” Confirms Clint with a knowing nod, “I knew it.”

“Yeah me too.”

Nodding slowly once again, the archer stands and makes the less then 1 foot distance to reach you. Head still in your hands, he gently knocks a fist against one of your horns as you try your best to ignore his existence.

“Knock. Knock. Anyone home?” Asks your friend as he awaits in hope that he can talk some real sense into you about your strong feelings for Bucky. “Please, I know you’re in there Y/N, time to open up.”

Cracking a smile at his theatrics, you slowly release your head from your palms to greet him with an annoyed half glare, “By the way I am not waiting for something terrible to happen. I have my reasons okay.”

“Your reasons being...”

Biting your lip, you pull your legs up to sit cross legged on the table, “You don’t get it Clint, I’m me alright. I’m not from this planet, I’ve got horns, I can sense peoples emotions, and since my mother is Goddess of the Underworld I’m technically herald of bringing this earth to a bloody and violent end!” You shout as he keeps the most irritating of faces on, making your anger rise by the second.

“Isn’t it nice to talk about our feelings.” Replies Clint in the most soothing voice you’ve ever heard, if you weren’t so flustered right now you could probably have laughed.

“Fuck off Clint I’m in love and he doesn’t know that shit part about me.” You grumble with a frown, “Bucky doesn’t know anything.”

“Well...” Wonders Clint for a brief moment, “Maybe he should. I mean you said it yourself, he does have affections for you.”

“Oh I know he does, every time I’m around him he smells like what happiness and love smells like.”

“Which is?”

“Hard to describe in this world, but it’s the best smell in existence.” You admit with the smallest of smiles as you think about Bucky, “Clint why do I have to feel this way? Why does he have to love me? I’m destined for terrible things....or, well...I was, but still.”

Noticing how your eyes have suddenly glossed over, Clint holds your shoulder while giving you a reassuring smile, “Y/N, listen to me. You will never do anything like that, you’re too morally correct and are almost the embodiment of a kitten for that shit anyways. And I know Bucky will love you either way, because he’s Bucky and that man needs a wild woman like you in his life to keep things interesting. You’ll be fine, believe me.”

Shutting your eyes tight, you reveal the tiniest of smiles before looking at Clint, “Maybe you’re not just a pretty face after all. Thanks Clint I needed that.”

Taking a step back, be claps his hands together happily, “Why thank you. I’ve been watching a lot of Ted talks on our higher purpose and motivation recently and you gave me the perfect opportunity to test my insight.”

“Clint you’re ridiculous.” You laugh, “But still, I think it’s time to tell him. I just hope he’s okay after all is said and done because I don’t know what I’d do with myself if he walks away.” You worry.

“Well if he does I make the best margaritas...”

“Shut up.”

——

For the past half an hour your mind has been swimming with worries and thoughts about how Bucky may react when you tell him the full truth of your origins, and possible future that you’ve fought to keep away since you walked into this world.

He’s only a man, a full mortal, but you have grown to love him so much it hurts sometimes.

Your ember eyes watch as the trees sway back and forth with the moody wind who pushes and pulls them back. A storm is on the rise as giant puffy dark clouds appear in the far distance, causing the once sunny day to darken.

You slouch lazily in your comfy plush lounging chair, one that you easily dragged over to the nearest giant window to watch the clouds race by while you wait for Bucky to return. Getting lost in your drifting thoughts in the process.

“Guess we won’t be going for a walk today after all.” Interrupts Bucky from your jumbled mind, your head immediately turns to watch as he walks from the kitchen to your side by the window.

“Yeah, too bad. I’m not that mad though, I like listening to the thunderstorms.” You confirm with a casual shrug.

Bucky smiles down at you, head turning to watch as the wind rushes against the trees, “I guess there is a beauty in the chaos....but hey Y/N, you know what we could do now?”

Chuckling at his excited expression, you tilt your head up, giving him your full undivided attention, “I’m dying to know Buck.” You muse with a cute little smirk that unknowingly caused his heart to jump with happiness.

Breaking out into a shy smile, Bucky quickly runs his fingers through his less then shoulder length hair, “Uh, what do you say to a movie night? With me?” He asks cautiously, hoping you’ll say yes so he gets even the tiniest opportunity to maybe, possibly, cuddle you.

Your eyes shift back to the growing grey clouds as small water droplets flicker against the window, smiling to yourself, you swiftly stand and turn to face him, “That’s a compelling question...” You muse with a lopsided grin, your hand rising to touch the tip of your chin thoughtfully as he leans against the thick window with a bemused smirk, “And since you asked so nicely and look so very polite too, oh I guess it’d be a tragedy and lonesome night if I declined.” You laugh.

“It would be very lonely for sure.” Agrees Bucky, his face suddenly shifting to slight nervousness, “So uh....you in?”

Breaking out into a beaming grin, you playfully roll your eyes, “No shit I’m in.” You quip before walking past him and into the kitchen for a drink, Bucky following close behind.

He stops to lean his torso against the marble countertop as you fill up a glass of water, “Well I wasn’t completely sure, just checking.” He admits with a nervous chuckle. Bucky you are unbelievably adorable.

Finishing your drink, you roll your eyes as he hangs his head in slight embarrassment, “God Buck, it’s a good thing you’re pretty.” You jest, causing his cheeks to dust pink as he rises his head to meet your shimmering irises. You’re so beautiful, he thinks, incredibly glad that you can’t read minds like Wanda.

Little does he know you can sense emotions, smell them even if they’re strong enough; and if Bucky doesn’t just smell of love and absolute joy right. It’s the most adorable thing in the whole entire world, there’s no fucking way you’ll refrain from admitting your feelings tonight. It just wouldn’t be fair if you didn’t.

“Hey I’m trying here.” He protests half defensively, pushing himself off the counter as you walk around and head for the door. He’s at your side in a second, smile on and eyes trained on nothing but you.

Keeping your eyes forward, you bite your lip as he stares, suddenly his metal arm gives you a slight friendly nudge and now you have no choice but to look at his dumb face, “You think I’m pretty?” He wonders with a mischievous smirk.

“Yeah.” You mutter before pushing him to the side as he’s drifted comfortably close to you, “Pretty annoying.” You retort, doing your best to hold in your laughter as he takes offense and grips his chest dramatically.

“Y/N you monster.” Gasps Bucky, mouth a-gap as he watches you casually shrug.

“I am evil and cold blooded what can I say.” You muse back, a smug grin on your lips that Bucky would like nothing more then to kiss right now. Yet he refrains, not today, he needs to gather his courage first.

Turning the corner to the Avengers sleeping quarters, he quickly stops when he realizes none of you know which room to take, tugging at his sleeve you hand him a calming grin, “We’ll watch in mine. You’re bed is too hard anyways.”

“It is not.” He argues.

“It is too.”

“Not.”

“Well it is so shut up.”

“Not.”

Pushing him into his door, you raise a brow at him, “Just get the movie, I’ll be in my room waiting for your annoying ass.”

Shaking his head at your humorous sass, he quickly salutes you before opening up his door, “What are we thinking? Horror? Comedy? Adventure? All three?”

Taking a step forward, you lean in closer to Bucky; almost testing the waters, before lightly pushing him backwards by his strong chest, “Surprise me.” You quip, wiggling your brow once for emphasis. He breaks out into an adorable crooked grin as he watches you leave and close your own door right across from him.

After making record time changing into your comfortable movie watching sweatpants and some ten year old shirt from Nat that says SHIRT in red letters with the R in a dull grey. Yeah, its one of your favorites; you race to turn the tv on as rain pounds against the glass, one flash of lightening strikes in the distance as a knock sounds at your door. Bucky.

Bolting for the door so fast you almost trip on a stray hoodie, you quickly regain your cool before taking a breath and opening up the metal door. You’re immediately greeted with the smiling face of Bucky as he holds a movie and two beers.

Leaning nonchalantly against the door frame you meet him with the chillest guise you can muster, “So, you come here often?”

Bucky instantly chuckles at your amusing antics as a small blush creeps out over his stubbled cheeks, “Only when I’m invited.” He replies before holding up the movie, “Is this one good?” Hell yes, and you’re now in my room.

Snatching it out of his hand you pull him fully into the room by tugging on his red shirt without much warning, he practically stumbles in, quickly regaining his balance while you shut the door and practically swagger over to the bed. Bucky following close behind.

You gracefully jump onto the comfortable mattress and twist into a seated position before grabbing some kind of hand held scanner, Bucky awkwardly shuffling to the bedside as he then moves to find a spot against the headboard as you fumble around with the movie and whatever device is in your hand.

Raising a brow he watches in curiosity, “Uh, Y/N. What exactly is that?”

“A movie scanner made by Tony. I scan said film and boom it translates to the tv no problem. Technology right.”

He nods in understanding as you press some button and suddenly the movie is on the tv screen, set and ready to play, “Woah.” He mumbles, genuinely in awe of the advanced tech of today. And how fast you were able to do that, god you’re just the best, he thinks.

A second later he flinches back as you throw a pillow at his side, “Shit sorry.” You mutter almost shyly while crawling to his side, “Heads up.”

“Yeah thanks for the warning. I’ll sit on the floor next time until you give me the all clear.” Sasses Bucky as you sit, grabbing the pillow and smacking him on the side of his head while also pretending not to notice your little theatric as you turn towards the screen. Very nonchalant.

Bucky on the other hand is left with some disheveled hair and the dumbest smile on his handsome face while you press play and grab a beer from out of his right hand, “I’m gonna take this.” You add before gasping in excitement, “You wanna watch something?! I have a party trick! It’s a good one too, you wanna see!”

“Please.” Snickers Bucky as you turn to face him better. He watches in awe as you raise the bottle to your left horn and in one calculated motion, use the sharp tip to crack open the beer bottle. “Wow.”

“I know right!” You exclaim with excitement, “It took me a week to perfect it. I just kept breaking the bottles neck and then Steve would drink after cause he can’t get drunk so.....uh yeah, you want me to open yours too?”

“I’d be honored.”

After drinking both your beers and watching the movie progress in relative peace, with the occasional gust of wind against the glass and a crack of thunder and lightening here and there. All was going pretty well, Bucky was laying on his one side while you were laying on your stomach totally engrossed in the film until....

Crack! BOOM! Darkness.

“Dammit! They were getting to the best part!” You whine, shifting around to sit while dramatically yelling out your frustration as Bucky turns to lay on his back, suppressing bemused laughter while you curse the shit excuse for efficient electricity in this place.

“It’ll come back on soon.” He inquires, “Guess you’ll just have to talk to me now.”

Snapping your head over to him, you scoff, “Why do I feel like you planned this?”

“I thought you planned this? Considering.....well, I guess I don’t really know.” He says thoughtfully, pausing for a moment before he hums, “We could ask each other questions.”

Y/N this is the absolute perfect opportunity, take it you lovestruck idiot, “Uh, yeah sure....I like knowing things.” You internally cringe, wanting to smack your head for that one; and you thought you could go a full hour without embarrassing yourself. Nope.

Nevertheless, Bucky smiles in the darkness, “Alright uh, let me think.......hmm okay uh.....where are you from? Since I’ve never really asked about that before.”

Well, fuck. I guess he’s going for the big guns straight off the bat.

Biting your lip anxiously, you twist a piece of frayed fabric from your one strange little pillow as you gather your courage to finally tell him everything. This is it, no holding back, “Oh uh.....well......you know I’m not from earth, yes?”

“Yeah, I did know that. The horns.”

“Right, good.” You mutter, your voice wavering with nervousness so much that Bucky sits up and turns to properly look at you even if he can’t really see your face.

“Y/N, are you okay?” He worries, brows furrowing in concern.

Hastily you regain your once dampened composure, “Yes! Yes.....yeah, I’m good. Awesome. Great....”

“Y/N.”

“Yeah.”

“Is it because you had a bad childhood?” Quips Bucky, using your own inside joke against you to help lighten the mood and make you laugh.

Snorting in amusement you smack his arm, Bucky mentally rejoices when he hears the sweet song of your happiness coming back, and the light sting of your always powerful hand.

“I didn’t have a bad childhood Bucky.” You admit, voice suddenly somber and thoughtful, “I didn’t even have a childhood.” Already getting depressing Y/N, nice one.

“oh.”

You shrug, letting out an apprehensive sigh as you look from the window then back to Bucky again, while he tries to watch your every move in the blackness of the room, “Bucky....there’s some things in this world that are so incredibly hard to comprehend and fully understand....you’ve seen the power Wanda can create and the talent of the mind stone inside Visions head. Yes?”

He sits in deep thought at your intriguing words, trying to piece together where you may be going with this, “Of course. What does that have to do with you?”

“I wasn’t actually born like a normal being....rather, I was formed and created by my mothers will and raw power. I was molded by earth, thunder, magic, and chaos.....I am.....well..” You sigh, “I don’t really know.”

“Well that’s......neat.”

Cracking a small smile, you continue on, lest confuse him more, “My mother...which I assume you’re curious about by now. She’s essentially, goddess of the Underworld, keeper of beasts and master of chaos. Some type of divine something, who can really say when I’m not even sure.”

Bucky stays silent for longer then you would like, each extra second making you grow more nervous and regretful for revealing all this to him. Soon enough he answers, “So that means.....Y/N you’re technically a demigod?”

“I guess.”

He pauses for another moment before gently shaking your leg, “Y/N! That is the coolest thing anyone has ever said to me in my entire life.”

“What?” Is he serious?

“You’re a demigod! I’m sitting next to a demigod. Y/N I didn’t think you could be any more amazing then you already are.” Exclaims Bucky in awe as you cover your face in your hands, a flash of lightning illuminating your reaction.

Immediately he stiffens and feels maybe he shouldn’t have reacted that way, “oh, uh.....Y/N? Is that not a good thing?”

“No. Not really.” You mutter sadly.

Bucky frowns, “Please tell me why? Because I think you’re the best person alive and I don’t want you to be upset.”

Releasing your hands from your face, you let out a shaky breath, “It’s why I was created. Not out of love, or the want of a daughter.....she formed me so one day I will turn this world to ruin.”

“Why-I don’t understand?”

“She has made me live among the mortal before, in other realms, other planets very far away from here.....I learn about them, I see how they live, how they treat one another and if she sees that they are terrible and violent to each other through what I tell her....”

“Well, I imprison their world leaders, forcing them witness portals open to the Underworld...where beasts of all ugliness and terror wipe out most of the population.” You reveal, your voice breaking with every word, “I then kill all of them......and turn them to more beasts....hellhounds.....shadow creatures.”

You swallow hard as Bucky takes a moment to process the heavy imagery and story you’ve just told him. You can sense how conflicted he feels, he’s known you as the literal funniest and sweetest person ever; he’s come to fall in love with you even, how could you do such horrible things, “Did you enjoy it.” He asks, voice slightly colder then you would have liked, but you understand.

“It’s all I knew. It’s what she created me for, my only purpose. Her herald of death..I..I can’t say..”

“Did you?” He interrupts, sadness lacing his words now, the anger and disappointment only but a slight simmering in the back of his voice.

Your heart breaks in two, he feels hurt by this news of what you did to others, “I did.” You monster. He’ll never love you now.

The atmosphere is thick with emotional tension, if not for the sound of the raging storm outside, you’re certain you could hear a needle hit the carpet. His breaths are slow and heavy, you can tell he’s deeply conflicted with what to do now, yet he refrains from leaving your side.

“Why did you stop?” Asks Bucky, voice a soft whisper as a flash of lightning illuminates around your sides, ember eyes and two curled horns flashing for a brief moment and your heart sinks when he slightly flinches.

Hanging your head low, you nervously fumble with your hands, “Because I met someone....he reminds me of you actually, I guess I felt...” Biting your lip, you suck in a breath as a stray tear runs down the side of your cheek, “I fell in love....it was a long time ago, before this continent was discovered. He gave me humanity, empathy, and I saw what I was truly doing....I bared witness to the monster I truly was. So I ended it.”

You pause, nothing is said from either one of you for a long time until at last you break the tension, “I don’t deserve forgiveness from anyone. I hate my mother and my only friends are the people here. You don’t have to stay any longer then you want.”

“I want to stay.”

“oh.”

He takes another heavy sigh, “And this whole time I though I was the worst person on the team.” Muses Bucky to your great surprise and puzzlement.

“What? You’re not mad I don’t understand? Not even scared or disappointed...you’re just...uh...”

“I’m what? Y/N what wild thing are you about to tell me now? I cut it off with learning you’re a demigod who caused multiple apocalypse’s.”

Slowly sitting up a bit more, you fold your legs and fully face him as he tries to see you in the darkness, “I can kinda....uh....sense peoples emotions and umm....smell the scent if its strong enough.”

“Can you sense what I feel right now?” Asks Bucky, voice above a whisper though you hear it all the same.

Hugging your sides, you nod, “Yes.” He’s practically ecstatic, he feels relieved and grateful that you have trusted him enough to share something so deep and personal. He smells sweet, better then the most lovely of flowers or most delicious of fruits. He smells of love and hope, paired with a smile that could warm a frozen lake.

Reaching a hand out into the darkness, you quickly take his with yours as he brings his other one in to gently clasp your hands with his, “Don’t believe I would ever leave you Y/N....you mean more to me then anything else in this entire world and I’m honored to be someone so special to you. I hope this isn’t too soon or rushed but uh....I love you.”

The way you subconsciously tighten your grip on his hands is enough to indicate that his words have been well received, “I know Bucky.” You confirm with a small smile, “I love you too.” A second later his lips crash messily against the corner of your lips as he fails to completely find them in the darkness. oh, you idiot.

Smiling into the kiss, you pull him into a fierce hug as your lips move slowly and blissfully against one another, his hands quickly find their way around your waist as yours reach up into his long dark hair that you love so much. Moments after you and Bucky fall in a heap of tangled limbs onto the soft mattress, lips still feverously locked with one another. Soon he begins subconsciously smiling into the kiss which causes you to giggle with amusement for how absolutely adorable he’s being right now.

Confused to your cheerful laughter, Bucky breaks from the kiss to gently beck your cheek before resting his head against yours, “I wish I could see you right now.” Mumbles Bucky as he holds you flush against him.

Kissing his stubbly cheek, you quietly snicker, “I can see you.”

“Let me guess?” Humorously asserts Bucky as his fingers trail casually down and up your back, “You can see in the dark too......this whole time?”

“Yeah.”

“Do I look good?” He wonders.

“I’m gonna faint you’re so hot.”

And with that said does he pull you in for another heated embrace, tonight's defiantly going to go extremely well for you. Without a doubt.

#bucky barns x reader #bucky barns imagine #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #marvel imagine #marvel x reader #marvel x you #marvel x y/n #the winter soldier x y/n #the winter soldier x reader #the winter soldier #bucky barnes

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reidetic · 4 years ago

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The Pantheon: The War or The World? - A.H

A/N: This is the second installment in ‘The Pantheon’ series. You can find the first, Golden, here. Big shout out to @zhuzhubii for their dialogue help and @ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff and a discord friend (who’s tumblr I cannot tag fsm) for beta-ing both stages of this fic. This about to get real dark, y’all. Heed the content warnings.

CW/TW: Murder, violence, general angst, did you hear me about murder?

Couple: None, gen fic.

Category: Angst

Word Count: 1.8k

War. Violence. Anger, malevolence, fury. Aaron was familiar enough with them all. Over a decade in the Behavioral Analysis Unit and he had seen nothing but the wrath of mankind, spilled over from held tongues. Everything stems from fear and terror, and he would go to the grave swearing he fathered the abstract. He felt he left destruction behind him in a wake of combat, and failed to keep his fists from their fury.

He hadn’t held his rage against Foyet, and it terrified him to no end that he held no regrets about it. If you spend your waking hours chasing the entities of psychopathy, do you not worry that one stumble will place you among the pack? Will the darkness that now inhabits him be his fall from grace? What would he teach his son about the world if he collapsed beneath it?

He’d be lying to himself if he said the pressure only began after she left. Aaron knew a lot of things when he was young, but the lesson he never quite learned was how to slow down, and life stepped in quickly enough. Her name on his lips burned like fire for months after, only ever calling her Mom to Jack, never once braving the knowledge that the only woman he had given a piece of himself to was now gone, and he had absolutely no one to blame but himself. He still remembers the grip of Derek’s hands around his arms as he pulled him away from the fatality beneath him, still remembers the blood staining his fingernails. There is only so much evil soap can erase.

Sometimes he felt like the Devil studied the blueprints of his life for ideas, and then he remembered that it’s only him that creates the wars waging on the homefront. How long can he sit here in the dark, touching the floor in their home where his wife’s blood stained the wood? He hadn’t been here in years, but he needed to be here, he needed to feel her again. The blonde underneath him wasn’t Haley, no, but she was close enough. She bore just enough resemblance to his wife and son to justify stealing her away, but just was different enough to let his fist close around her throat. Too fragile to fight him off, she never stood a chance, not when he’s creating his own bloodshed. The blood running from her eyebrow where his wedding ring had sliced her skin open simply pushes him over the edge, and when her body stops writhing under his closed hand, he realizes he has no idea what her name is.

Maybe he was born with this brutality, perhaps he never stood a chance against the test of time. After all, he wasn’t just chasing killers, he was learning from them too. Cold, calculated, planned. Premeditated, wasn’t that what they called it? He watched her for weeks, needed to know that she would fulfill his fantasy, his need. He made sure she was alone, no children or husbands left behind. Not just to eliminate witnesses, but because Aaron had been on the side of that losing fight. He wouldn’t wish it on his worst enemy. This is just his conflict, this is just his deserved combat. No one would be surprised if he snapped, would they? It was all he knew, it was ever-consuming and at the end of it, he’d be lucky to have even a fragment of a soul left. Emily had warned him once about keeping everything so far shoved down that you lose the ability to distinguish between yourself and your trauma.

There was so much darkness, so much fear. He was so tired of holding everything on his shoulders. So he found a way to put it down, he found a way to try to heal. He had to make it right. He had to give Haley another chance to die, and maybe this time it would be right.

There hadn’t been a break in this case for months. Women disappearing then reappearing mangled and murdered, always a different MO, their only common thread was victimology. Blonde single women, never anyone to miss them other than their work.

“Hey, I hate to say this but...these women, they all look like Haley.” JJ says tentatively, glancing at the tacked up photos of the victims.

An unnerving quiet falls over the room as the team looks at JJ, a mixture of resignation and horror painting their faces.

Rossi nods with a pained look. “They do. And...Aaron fits the profile.”

Spencer looks up and adds quietly, “And he took off work for three weeks when the killings started.”

“No, he wouldn’t. Not Hotch.” Morgan stands and shakes his head. “I still think it’s Evans.”

Rossi sighs. “Evans has an alibi, Morgan. Aaron doesn’t.”

Morgan scoffs, looking to anyone for help and settles on Emily. “Prentiss, you really believe this?”

She sighs, looks up at him and says, “I’m sorry Derek, he fits the profile perfectly. We always say profilers make the best unsubs.”

“Damn the profile! They can be wrong. We’ve been wrong before.” Morgan pleads, looking around the room for someone on his side.

“Look, why don’t we just go to his house? If I’m right, then we bring him in. If we’re wrong, then we’re just checking on him. Okay?” JJ reasons.

“You can waste your time all you want, but I’m going to talk to Evans.” Morgan seethes, looking to Spencer. “You coming with me, kid?” Spencer just nods, throws JJ an apologetic glance, and grabs his jacket and vest, following Morgan out of the room.

“I’ll go with you, JJ. Prentiss, stay behind and keep in contact with Garcia, just in case.” Rossi instructs. JJ nods, and they head in the opposite direction of Morgan and Spencer, and JJ prays she’s wrong about this.

Prying open the door to Hotch’s house, JJ shakes her head. This isn’t how she wanted this to end. She tiptoes through the room, Rossi following behind her while they work to clear the area. As they go upstairs, she starts to hear crying.

Toeing open the bedroom door, JJ calls through, “Hotch?” She sees him, hunched over a blonde woman, blood pooling on the carpet between his knees. “Hotch!” He still isn’t responding, sobs wracking through his body. “...Aaron?” She tries, pitching her voice down.

He turns to look at her then, no sign of recognition on his face. He looks broken and battered. He still doesn’t look like a murderer.

Meeting his eyes, she says, “Aaron, it’s JJ. We can help you but I need you to put the knife down.” The heart beating inside her chest is so much less scared than it is breaking in half to watch this man she called family die.

He turns to her, blood on his outstretched hands and a sad smile on his face. “You’re here, you’re finally here.”

Confused, JJ cocks her head to the side, gun still trained on him.“I’m...here?” She asks.

He lurches towards her, knife in hand.“I missed you so much.” He swipes a blood covered hand under his eye to wipe away the tears, and JJ’s stomach curdles at the sight.

Rossi takes a step forward to meet JJ, and says quietly, “Aaron, stay back.” Hotch doesn’t seem to hear him, staring directly at JJ.

Unsure of what’s happening, JJ decides to lean into it, in the hopes that making him feel understood would avoid casualties. “I...missed you too.”

He gestures behind him to the still body, and says, “I did it, see? I finally got it right!” He’s shouting, and his happiness is unnerving.

JJ steps forward a little, staring at him. “Aaron...I’m sorry, but I don't understand. Could you...explain it to me?” Maybe even in this state, he’s still sane enough to be logical. Maybe.

Hotch barks a bitter laugh, “Foyet, he didn’t do it right. He…disgraced you.” You? All of a sudden JJ realizes what’s happening and she chokes back tears. She’s not Haley, but she can be for a minute if it protects him.

She softens her voice, holsters her gun and steps forward with her hands up. “I’m...I’m here now. And I've missed you so much. Why don't you put the knife down, and then-”

He shakes his head violently, sweat and tears flying off his face.“It’s too late.” He’s muttering to himself and JJ can’t understand the words under his breath.

JJ swallows thickly. “What do you mean? I’m here, it’s ok-”

He cuts her off abruptly, waving the knife at the girl behind him dismissively. “She's already gone. She’s already gone.” He looks up through tears and smiles sadly at JJ, at the figure of his late wife in front of him. “...I got you back, though. You're here. You're here and I...-” He breaks down in sobs, sinking to his knees and clutching the knife to his chest.

JJ steps closer, looking down at him in pity. “That's right, I’m here. And everything will be okay, I just need you to put the knife down. Can you do that for me, Aaron? Put the knife down.”

He looks up at her, dropping the knife to the floor with a loud clatter and JJ drops to her knees, wrapping her arms around the broken man before her and they’re both crying. “I’m so sorry, Haley.” She just shushes him, pulling him up to his feet.

“I gotta cuff you now, Hotch. It’s for your own good.” Rossi has tears in his eyes, pulling the silver metal from his belt and clasping it around Hotch’s wrists. It’s then that the illusion shatters, and he sees what he’s done. JJ leans down and presses her fingers to the inside of the girl’s wrist, searching for a pulse, but it’s useless. Like he said, it was too late. She was already gone.

“JJ?” Hotch asks pitifully. “What did I do?” He looks so tired, so crushed.

“I don’t know, Aaron. But we’ll fix it.” She’s still got slow tears rolling down her cheeks, and she takes him from Rossi, guiding him down the stairs and out the front door where the rest of the team is waiting, the looks on their faces a mixture of fear and disgust and pity.

War was ever-consuming. War within, war in the world he struggled to hold up on his shoulders. He could never decide if he saw himself more as Ares or Atlas, never could deify himself in the way he was expected to. Head of the unit, head of his remaining household, head of his world. And yet, he chose war every time. This time, the blood on his fingertips was no longer metaphorical, but the weight of the world fell off. As he’s pulled away from his home, he sees JJ and Jessica huddled over his son, and he wonders if what he’s done is worth the weightlessness.

taglist: @ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff @andiebeaword @dreatine @muffin-cup @httpnxtt @sunlight-moonrise @samanddeanstolethetardis221b @spencer-reid-in-a-pool @fanficlibrary82 @zhuzhubii @prettyricky187 @reidlusts

#criminal minds fanfic #aaraon hotchner #aaron hotch fanfiction #hotch fanfiction #criminal minds gen fic #unsub!hotch #dark!hotch

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novoaa1writes · 4 years ago

Text

comeback kid

pairing(s): f!reader & jennifer jareau (familial), f!reader & emily prentiss (familial), jennifer jareau x emily prentiss, the BAU team & f!reader (familial)

summary: reader is a young girl who escapes captivity at the hands of a very bad man with the BAU’s help. she meets emily and JJ. spencer, too, along with the others. somewhere along the way, she learns a little something about trust and healing.

word count: ~5,500

rating: mature

warnings: kidnapping, rape/non-con, canon-typical violence, non-graphic sexual & physical abuse to a child

notes: i definitely spent too much time on this bitch i’ve got FINALS tf??? anyways. in this ‘verse, jj never met will and therefore didn’t have henry or michael. and yes i’m aware the title is stupid but it’s kinda sticking with me so i might change it later. **PLEASE read the warnings dude i’m begging you the first half of this is pretty brutal before the healing starts*** (also on ao3)

— —

“I’m sorry there is so much pain in this story. I’m sorry it’s in fragments, like a body caught in crossfire or pulled apart by force. But there is nothing I can do to change it.

I’ve tried to put some of the good things in as well. Flowers, for instance, because where would we be without them?”

— Margaret Atwood

Your daddy dies on a Tuesday. The bad man forces him down onto his knees, shoots him in the chest with a real-life, actual gun. BANG. It’s so loud. Way louder than it is in the movies.

He turns to you next. Tells you to watch as he takes Momma’s clothes off, throws her onto the bed. He starts touching her like Daddy sometimes did, except she doesn’t smile and laugh like she does with Daddy. She screams and cries like it hurts, like the bad man is making it hurt. It goes on for a long time.

Eventually, he takes out a knife, puts it in Momma’s stomach. Once, twice, three times. She cries a little louder, starts to breathe a little funny. Soon enough, she goes completely quiet.

Then the bad man turns to you with a big, toothy smile. You don’t like to think about what happens after that.

— —

Time passes, and the bad man gets a name—Sir. You think it’s sorta a funny name (not truly a name at all, really), but you don’t ask him about it. He gives you a name, too—Princess. You don’t ask about that either. Your questions only ever seem to make him mad, and he gets really mean when he’s mad.

Sir gives you a bedroom down in the basement of his house. He tells you it’s your home now, but it doesn’t feel warm and safe like home should.

You get used to it, though. Eventually.

— —

You start to grow. It’s slow, at first, but once it starts it doesn’t stop, and you have no idea how to feel about it.

Your chest starts to get a little bigger. It isn’t flat like Sir’s anymore, and that makes you worry about what he’ll think. Instead of getting mad, though, he actually seems to approve. You don’t know why or what it means, but it’s a relief all the same.

One morning, you wake up with a tummy ache and blood staining the bedsheets between your legs. You kind of freak out about it, but Sir just smiles and says that it’s a good thing, that it means you’re a woman now. That same night, he spreads your legs and takes out his thing. It hurts when he forces it inside you, but you know better than to fight. He says it’s called “making love,” that it’s what two people do when they really care about each other.

You wonder why it’s called “making love” if it hurts so much, but you don’t ask him that.

After that night, Sir starts letting you stay in his room. You were never allowed before. At nighttime he puts his thing inside you and makes love, but you don’t mind. His bedsheets are so much softer than yours, and his pillows are so fluffy. You sleep a lot better most nights, even if your private parts feel ache-y and sore more often than not.

Sir isn’t angry with you as often as he used to be, but he’s still super strict and punishes you for almost everything. He says it has to be done, that you’ve gotta learn your place. He says it hurts him just as much as it hurts you to do it. You don’t know if you believe him. His thing always grows in his pants when he hits you, which you’ve learned to mean that he’s excited. Sometimes he’ll stop in the middle of punishing you to drag you upstairs and make love.

It’s okay, though. You’re kind of used to it now.

— —

More time passes, and you get a sister.

She’s smaller than you are, and when you ask her if she’s bled yet, she just looks back up at you all confused.

Sir says her name is Sissy. Sissy frowns and says, “No, my name is Bella.” Sir slaps Sissy until she screams and cries and her nose starts bleeding. By the end of it, she’s calling herself Sissy, too.

Eventually, Sissy’s body starts to go through changes, too, just like yours did. Her chest gets a little bigger. One day she falls to her knees, whimpering and clutching her tummy, and when you check her panties, they’re red with blood.

Sir starts making love to her, too. Sometimes he invites his friends over. They make love with you and Sissy, too.

Other times, he makes you and Sissy kiss on the mouth and touch each other’s private parts. You don’t understand why, ‘cause you thought sisters weren’t supposed to do things like that, but you know better than to question it.

You actually like having a sister, you find. She’s warm and soft and you get to hold each other when things are bad. Since Sissy is old enough to do grown-up things now, Sir gives you and Sissy your own room and a bed to share.

He still makes love to you most nights, and forces the two of you to play grown-up games together in his bed. But you try your best to be good, and teach Sissy how to be good, too. Sometimes, the two of you can manage to go hours on end without making him upset.

When he hugs the two of you against his bare chest late at night, squeezing you tight and saying how much he loves his two beautiful little girls, it doesn’t make your skin crawl like it used to. It actually doesn’t bother you at all.

— —

The angry-looking people with guns and vests come barging in late at night when you and Sissy are with Sir in his bed playing grown-up games. Sir grabs a knife, stabs it right into Sissy’s tummy. You’ve never heard her scream so loud.

The pretty man with dark, chocolate-y skin barges into the room, yanks Sir off the bed and pins him down on the floor. Sissy is whimpering and bleeding from her gut, Sir is thrashing and yelling on the floor. A handsome man with dark curly hair yanks you off the bed, drags you outside. You keep hitting your fists against his big, burly chest; wriggling and flailing in his strong arms; begging him to take you back in and get Sissy, too. He doesn’t.

The next bit is kind of a blur.

Someone drapes a coat around your shoulders. A lady with a buzzcut sits you up on the back of the ambulance and dabs wet cotton balls all over the cuts on your face. It stings.

She says you’re gonna be okay, so long as you go to a hospital later.

They take you back to the police station. You’ve never been in one of those before.

Sissy’s blood is drying on your hands when the big, burly man with brown eyes leads you into a room right next to the captain’s office. It’s got a table and cushion-y chairs. He leaves you there with a tight smile and an apology, but not before telling you that there’ll be someone in to talk to you soon.

You’re wearing a big blue jacket that says FBI on the back, a pair of panties and nothing else. It’s a little cold, but otherwise you don’t mind.

You clamber up onto one of the chairs, tuck your bruised knees against your chest.

You don’t have to wait for very long until someone opens the door and comes inside. She’s really pretty—tall and thin with long golden hair and big blue eyes. You think she kind of looks like a Disney princess.

“Hi, there,” she says. You watch her carefully as she takes a seat at the table right across from you. “My name is Jennifer, but you can call me JJ.”

“Are you a police officer?” you ask.

“No, I’m with the FBI.” Her voice is soft and gentle, like silk.

“Isn’t that the same thing?”

She chuckles, like you’ve said something funny. “Kind of.”

You nod, staring down at the tabletop. “Cool.”

“Can you tell me your name, sweetie?”

“Princess.”

“‘Princess,’” she repeats, eyebrows raised. “That’s a cute name.”

You look up. You can’t figure out if she really means that. “Thanks. Sir gave it to me.”

“Ah.” JJ’s eyebrows creep a little higher. “And do you like being called ‘Princess’?”

You frown. “I guess so.” You don’t really understand what she’s asking. “It’s my name.”

“Okay.” JJ nods. “And how old are you, Princess?”

“I… I don’t know,” you admit.

“That’s alright,” JJ says. “Now, can you tell me how you and ‘Sir’ met?”

You start fidgeting with your hands, concern for Sissy still fresh on your mind. “Is Sissy okay?”

JJ looks confused. “‘Sissy’?”

“My sister,” you tell her. “Is she okay? She was bleeding.”

JJ pauses, a wrinkle forming between her brows. You get a sinking feeling in your gut. “Princess, your sister was hurt very badly,” she explains, looking at you with sad eyes. “The doctors said there was nothing they could do. I’m so, so sorry.”

Your eyes start to burn like they do when you’re about to start crying. “She’s… She’s dead?”

JJ nods slowly. The sad expression doesn’t leave her face. “Yes, Princess. Again, I’m… so, so sorry.”

Your body feels numb. There’s a humming in your ears you can’t quite place. Your sight grows hazy around the edges.

“Princess?” JJ’s voice sounds far-away, distant.

A hot tear traces down your cheek. It helps to anchor you in the moment, sort of. “Sir is a bad man, isn’t he?”

“Yes,” JJ says after a moment. “Yes, he is.”

You tuck your knees a little tighter to your chest. Your bad arm aches, but you ignore it. “I don’t wanna be called ‘Princess’ anymore,” you whisper.

“Alright. What would you like to be called instead?”

You sniffle as another warm tear traces your cheek. “I… I don’t know.”

“Okay. That’s okay. You don’t have to figure it out right now.”

“You’re really nice, Miss JJ.”

“Just ‘JJ’ is fine.” She takes out a notepad and pen, sets it in front of her on the table. “Now, can you tell me how you and ‘Sir’ met?”

You nod. You still feel numb. “He came into my house one night. He was scary.”

“He hurt your parents, didn’t he?”

You gulp down a whimper. “Y-Yea. He had a gun and a knife.”

“What did he do with them?”

“Shot Daddy right here.” You shift in your seat, pointing at your chest with your good arm—right around where you think your heart should be. “Put Mommy on the bed, and… made love.”

JJ frowns. “‘Made love’?”

You nod, looking at her curiously. Weren’t grown-ups supposed to know all about making love? “Yea. The thing that grown-ups do with each other.”

JJ just stares.

“You know, when they take off their clothes and touch each other’s private parts.”

Something in JJ’s eyes shifts. “Honey… ” she begins. She sounds like she’s choosing her words carefully. “Did Sir teach you about that?”

You nod again. “Yea, he showed me how once I became a woman.”

JJ’s eyes widen. “Once you ‘became a woman’?”

Why does she keep repeating everything I’m saying? “When I started bleeding down… there.”

“Your period?”

Huh? “What’s that?”

“It’s something that happens every month to girls like you and me.”

You lean forward a little bit in your seat, peering intently at her over your knees. “It happens to you, too?”

JJ’s lips curve into a little smile, like she’s amused by your question. Her eyes still look kinda sad, though. “Yes, sweetie, they happen to me, too. I have one every month.”

“A period.” It sounds kinda funny coming off your tongue. “Do you get tummy aches when they happen, too?”

“Sometimes. I take painkillers for the first couple days so that it doesn’t hurt as much.”

“Why… Why doesn’t it happen to boys?”

“Because girl parts and boy parts are different.”

You nod. That makes sense. After all, whenever Sir pulled out his thing, it was so strange-looking. It didn’t look anything like what you had between your legs.

“Boy parts are weird,” you say eventually, wrinkling your nose.

JJ laughs. She has a pretty laugh. “Yes, they certainly are.”

— —

JJ leaves eventually, says she’ll bring you food when she comes back. Your stomach growls. You don’t know how you can be hungry at a time like this, but somehow, you are.

Another woman takes JJ’s place.

She’s beautiful, too, in a different way. Black hair, bangs, dark eyes. Her smile is white and dazzling. She’s tall and thin like JJ, but the sweater she’s wearing looks soft while JJ’s shirt was crisp and business-y.

“Hi, there,” she says as she takes JJ’s seat across from you. She places a brown folder on the table in front of her. “I’m Emily.”

“Are you FBI? Like Miss JJ?” When you mention JJ’s name, her smile seems to get wider. You wonder if you’re just imagining things.

“Yes, in fact, I am,” she replies.

“Are you gonna put me in jail?”

Emily raises one eyebrow. “No, honey, I’m not going to put you in jail.”

“What about Sir?”

Emily sighs. “He’s in another room right now. One of our agents is talking to him.”

“He’s gonna go to jail, isn’t he?”

Emily nods. “Yes. For a very long time.” Straightforward and honest. You like that about her, you decide. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

You frown, hesitating. “Sir called me ‘Princess.’”

“So, should I call you that as well?”

Instantly, you shake your head. “No, thank you.”

“What about the name you had before Sir took you?”

“I… I can’t remember.”

“That’s okay.” Emily opens the file, flips it around and slides it across the table over to you. “One of our people, Garcia, found you.”

Hesitantly, you reach out to trace the paper on top. There’s a smaller picture paper-clipped to the front of it. It’s… It’s you. “Name: Y/N Y/L/N,” you read off the page. “That’s… That’s me?”

“Yes, honey,” Emily agrees. Her voice is soft like JJ’s, but different. Deeper. You like it, you decide. “That’s you.”

Your head spins. You look up at her, searching her pale features for an answer. “Miss Emily, h-how old am I?”

“You’re 14.”

“And my parents… They’re gone, aren’t they?”

Emily nods. There’s sadness in her eyes, too. It’s different from JJ’s, but not by much. “I’m afraid they are.”

You bite your lower lip nervously. You really don’t want to think about that right now. “Are you and Miss JJ… friends?”

Emily’s lips twitch. “You could say that.”

“What does that mean?”

“We live together.”

“Oh. That’s cool,” you say, tapping your knees. They’re a mottled combination of purple and black and blue. “Miss JJ is really pretty.”

Emily smiles. “Yes, she certainly is.”

“You smile when you talk about Miss JJ,” you observe, watching Emily carefully. You can’t quite figure her out. “You don’t seem like a very smile-y person.”

Emily looks a little taken aback at your remark, but she recovers quickly. “Well, JJ and I are very close.”

You hum, resting your chin on your knees and giving her your full attention. “Sir says I’m a woman now. Is that true?”

Emily huffs out a laugh. “No, sweetie, not quite. You’re a teenager.”

You tilt your head curiously. “But I did the period.”

“What’s that now?”

“The period. Miss JJ says that that’s what it’s called when you bleed from... down there.”

“Oh, I see what you mean now,” Emily says. “But you don’t ‘do’ periods. You have them.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“And, either way, having a period doesn’t automatically make you a woman, Y/N.”

You squint over at her. Now you’re even more confused. “It doesn’t?”

“Nope. I had my first period when I was around 12 years old, but I didn’t grow up until much, much later.”

You nod at that, like you understand. (You don’t really.) “How much later?”

“According to the law, everyone’s an adult at 18. But honestly, I don’t think I really became a grown-up until I was 25, at least.”

“Woah,” you murmur. “That’s a lot of years.”

Emily chuckles again. You find that you’re beginning to like the sound of it. “I used to think that, too.”

It’s quiet for a little bit. “Miss Emily?” you ask eventually. “Why am I still here?”

“We’re not quite finished with Sir yet,” she tells you.

“But you caught him.”

“That’s true,” Emily agrees. “But we need him to tell us where to find some other people, too.”

“Why? Did Sir do something to them?”

“Yes. He did.”

“Sir gets angry sometimes,” you say. You don’t quite know what point you’re trying to make, but you feel like you should say it all the same. “He loses control.”

“Everyone gets angry sometimes. Everyone loses control.” Emily leans back in her seat. Her eyes don’t leave you. “That still doesn’t make it okay to hurt people.”

You agree with Emily on that, you think. Even if Sir doesn’t. “Miss Emily?”

“You can just call me ‘Emily.’”

“Emily,” you correct yourself. It feels wrong coming off your tongue. You don’t think you’ll be doing that again any time soon. “You know about making love, right? The thing that grown-ups do in bed?”

Emily opens her mouth but nothing comes out, like she doesn’t quite know what to say. You think she looks kind of silly like that. After a long moment, she says, “I… Well, yes, I suppose I do.”

“Why does it hurt so much? Sir says… that it’s supposed to hurt when you make love. He says that sometimes we have to hurt the people we care about. Is that true?”

Emily’s face falls. All of a sudden, her eyes are sad again, and the way she’s looking at you… like she’s sad for you.

When she finally answers, her voice is small—smaller than you’ve heard it be since she came in and started talking to you. “He’s wrong, Y/N,” she says.

“But then why is his thing so big?” you ask, completely bewildered. “How could anyone ever fit it in without getting hurt?”

If anything, Emily’s face gets even sadder at that. “He’s a grown-up. He’s much bigger than you are.”

“But I can do grown-up things. I had a period,” you point out.

“Sweetie, that’s not how it works.” Emily’s hands clasp tightly together on the tabletop until her knuckles turn white. “You’re still a kid. You shouldn’t be doing things like that with grown-ups, and it isn’t fair that he forced you to.”

You frown. That doesn’t sound totally right, but you don’t know enough to say one way or the other. “Do I belong to him now? ‘Cause we did grown-up things together?” you ask. As soon as the words leave your lips, you realize how badly you’ve been wanting to know the answer.

You can see Emily’s jaw get tight. “Is that what he told you?”

“Yea,” you admit. Your tummy churns as you watch Emily’s clenched hands start to shake. “Um… Are you angry with me, Miss Emily?”

Emily blinks, looking down at her hands and then back to you. “No, honey. No, of course not.” She takes her hands back, puts them in her lap. “I’m sorry. I’m angry with him for doing these things to you.”

“Oh.” Your frown deepens at the defeated look on Emily’s face. “It’s okay,” you assure her. You don’t want her to be sad. “It wasn’t too bad. I learned what he liked pretty quick, and that made it easier.”

Emily begins to look a little sick.

“Miss Emily, are you alright?” you ask.

Emily clears her throat. The green complexion fades, but she still looks wary. “Yes, sweetie, I’m fine.”

She’s lying. You don’t know why, but she is. Still, you won’t ask about it. You’re smarter than that. “Is Miss JJ coming back soon?”

Emily glances down at her watch. She wears it on the inside of her wrist, you remember. “Yeah, I think—”

A sudden knock at the door interrupts Emily mid-sentence, making you flinch.

“Ah.” Emily’s eyes shift to look at something over your shoulder. She smiles. “Ask and ye shall receive.”

You chance a look behind you.

There Miss JJ is, holding a brown paper bag and a Sprite. When you meet her eye, she gives you a warm smile and a wink. You immediately turn back around, your cheeks feeling hot.

“I didn’t know what you liked, so I got a handful of things for you to choose from,” JJ explains. She drops the paper bag and soda right next to the open file in front of you, then circles around to the other side of the table. It smells like grease and fast food and ketchup. Your tummy rumbles again. “There’s a cheeseburger, some chicken nuggets, and a grilled chicken sandwich. I got you some fries, too.”

JJ gently touches Emily’s shoulder, and the two of them share some sort of silent communication. Then she sits down, too.

“Thank you, Miss JJ,” you murmur. You don’t make a move to touch the food.

“You’re welcome, honey.”

The room goes quiet. You steal glances at the food, then over at JJ and Emily. They’re watching you with identical frowns. Occasionally, they turn to exchange concerned looks with each other. In the meantime, you continue your staring match with the purple skin of your kneecaps.

“Not hungry?” Emily asks after a little while.

You glance up at her. “Is this a test?”

JJ and Emily exchange another look. “‘A test’?” JJ repeats. Her voice is just as soft and silky as you remember it. “What do you mean by that, honey?”

If it is a test, it’s already way more elaborate than anything Sir ever did. Still, you can’t help falling back on old habits.

“Food is earned, not given,” you recite. The words come out easy—like second nature. At this point, they kind of are.

It’s quiet again, until—

“Y/N… Did Sir tell you that?” Emily’s dark eyes on you are steady, like if she looks at you for long enough, she’ll figure out all your secrets. You pray that that isn’t true.

Reluctantly, you nod. You look back and forth between them, searching. “What do you want for this?”

“Nothing,” Emily says simply.

You just raise your eyebrows. You’ve played this game before. “A favor, then?”

Emily shakes her head. “No favors necessary.”

“I brought you food because you’re hungry and you need to eat,” JJ adds. She’s looking at you with a pained expression. “That’s all.”

Slowly, you reach for the Sprite. You don’t take your eyes off JJ and Emily. The can is cold and wet, dripping down the sides.

“Oh!” Emily abruptly stands, leaning forward over the table and reaching out. “Here, I’ll open it for y—”

She stops herself short when she sees you flinch.

“Y/N, hey,” she prompts. She raises both her hands, palms facing you. “I’m sorry; I should have asked first.” She nods down toward the soda can. “Would it be alright if I opened that Sprite for you?”

Your heartbeat hammers in your chest. Slowly, you reach around your knees to slide the can forward a couple inches. Your eyes don’t leave Emily’s face.

“Okay, I’m gonna open it for you now,” she tells you. Her hands fall to the soda can, and she does just that. Chk-chk! Her nails are all ragged and torn, you note. One of them has dried blood around it. It looks painful. The soda hisses as she slides it back over to you.

You don’t relax until she retreats back into her seat.

“Thank you, Miss Emily.” You take the soda can into your hands, down a little sip. It’s fizzy and strange and way too sweet. You like it.

“No problem, hon.”

— —

After endless tests, and doctors poking you, and a whole bunch of confusing questions, you’re finally left alone. Well, mostly.

It’s just you, a hospital bed, and a thin pale man who says his name is Spencer. He’s FBI, too, evidently. He doesn’t look like he’d be FBI, but the gun on his hip says otherwise.

He’s got big brown eyes, short brown hair, and he won’t stop fidgeting with his hands. He seems nervous. It’s making you nervous.

Eventually, you can’t take it any longer. “Mister Spencer?” you ask.

Immediately, his eyes shift to you. “Yes?” He leans forward in his seat, rests his elbows on his knees.

“They said I have to have surgery.”

He nods. “You’ve had some broken bones that didn’t heal correctly,” he explains patiently. His voice is soft, so soft it’s almost a whisper. “Most of them won’t require surgery, but from what I understand, the one in your left forearm is still hurting.”

Instinctively, you cradle your bad arm to your chest. “It’s not so bad.”

“That may be true, but the doctors here can fix it. They’re very good at what they do. And once you heal from the surgery, it won’t ever hurt like that again.”

A song plays in your head—one of Sir’s favorite songs. He’d play it all the time. “Ain’t nothin’ in this world for free,” you murmur.

“Sorry?”

“Nothing in this world is free,” you say. “They can’t just take the pain away, Mister Spencer. Not unless the price is really, really high.”

“The price has been taken care of.”

“By who?” Owing someone is dangerous. You know that.

Spencer hesitates. “Well—”

“By me.” A familiar voice makes you whirl your head around. You really don’t like surprises.

Emily’s standing there in the doorway. She looks at you with an expression you can’t quite figure out.

“Miss Emily, I—I can’t pay you back—”

“You don’t have to.” She pushes off of the doorframe, comes in and sits in an empty chair next to Spencer. “I just want you to get better, sweetie.”

You eye her suspiciously up and down. “That’s all?”

“That’s all.”

“I don’t believe you,” you whisper out eventually.

You don’t expect her to hear you, much less answer, so it’s a surprise when she does.

“I know,” she says.

— —

The next couple days are a blur. You get the surgery, though you don’t really remember it. All you know is you wake up with the room spinning and your bad arm feeling numb. There’s a bandage on it, and white gauze wrapped from your wrist all the way up to your elbow.

The doctors smile and tell you that things went well, that you’re gonna be okay. Their smiles are too big and the room is too bright and you really don’t want to be there anymore.

Someone carries you out of the hospital to a big, black car. They smell like cinnamon, and their shirt is really soft. Their long black hair tickles your nose. Emily.

She stays with you in the backseat when the car starts to move.

There’s a woman with golden hair driving the car. You think you might know her. JJ, a distant voice in your head supplies.

Things go black for a while after that.

When you wake up, it’s bleary. You’re warm and comfy, which strikes you as unusual. The bed you’re on feels like a cloud. It’s a million times softer and more cloud-like than Sir’s bed ever was. That’s unusual, too.

Turns out, it’s a guest room in an apartment that’s too fancy to be called an apartment. A “loft.”

There’s a black cat with green eyes that jumps up on the bed and starts nuzzling you as soon as you’re up. Its fur is really, really soft. You like the way it purrs when you scratch it behind the ears.

Turns out, the “it” is a “he.” His name is Sergio, and he belongs to Emily and JJ.

This is their loft, where they’ve offered to let you stay for the foreseeable future.

You have no idea what their angle is, and that terrifies you. But they’re warm and they smell nice and they let you order takeout from wherever you want for dinner. They’re gentle and they smile a lot and as far as you can tell, they don’t come into your room to touch you at night.

Still, there’s only one way to be sure. One day, you sneak a strip of Scotch tape from Emily’s desk before dinner. That same night, you stick it horizontally on the inside of the door—from the metal frame across to the wood of the door itself.

This way, it won’t come undone unless someone opens the door. And if they do, it’ll be impossible to stick the tape back exactly how it was unless you’re on the inside. You’re not sure where you learned that, ‘cause it definitely wasn’t from Sir, but you figure it doesn’t really matter either way. What matters is that it’s smart, and it works.

Three nights go by. The tape doesn’t move.

Three nights becomes a week. You keep sneaking bits of Scotch tape to replace the old ones when they start to lose their stick.

The tape still doesn’t move.

JJ and Emily are still as kind as ever. They still give you food, change your bandages, let you watch as much TV as you want. They don’t make you play grown-up games. They don’t yell at you. They don’t hit you, either.

It’s new, and confusing, and strange.

You think that maybe you could use a little of that.

— —

A geriatric, balding judge with bifocals and a lisp signs the adoption papers on a Tuesday afternoon. And just like that, Emily Prentiss and Jennifer Jareau are finally declared the official legal guardians of Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N.

You’re sixteen, now, after a quiet but memorable birthday spent at home with your moms three weeks prior.

Thanks to Uncle Spencer’s influence, you’re reading books like a fiend and doing weekly crossword puzzles with him on Sunday mornings. Social media remains something of a mystery to you, still. Hell, even Mama Emily’s better at it than you are. Auntie Penelope says it’s better that way ‘cause “the Internet is a beautiful but terrible place, my sweet sugarplum,” but at the very least, you think you should get a Facebook before you graduate.

Plus, Uncle Kevin says he’ll teach you some hacker tricks on the sly so long as you don’t tell Auntie Pen. You’re really, really looking forward to that.

Uncle Hotch goes on weekly runs with you around the park. You pretty much spend the whole time teasing him for being so old and having to stretch so much before the two of you can actually get going, but he still very nearly beats you every time.

Uncle Rossi spoils you with gifts and home-made Italian recipes. Sometimes, he’ll come over just to cook you dinner.

Uncle Morgan’s teaching you how to pick up girls. Ever since you told him about that cute girl Emiko in your Spanish class, he’s been drilling you with lessons on “how to woo a lady.” You groan and blush and act like it’s the worst thing that ever happened to you, but secretly, you don’t really mind it. At all. Sometimes, you even take his advice. (Though admittedly, that’s rather rare.)

Luke, Matt, Tara, Alex and Stephen are all new, but your moms seem to trust them, and that’s good enough for you. Plus, Luke lets you play with his dog Roxy sometimes, so he’s already pretty cool in your book.

Friday nights are special. They’re the nights you always, always spend at home with your moms. You play board games, watch movies, binge trashy Netflix shows. Currently, you’re 11 seasons into Grey’s Anatomy.

Most of the time, you pass out snuggled between them on the couch. They shake you gently when it’s time to go to bed, and you trudge back to your room in a zombie-like trance. You don’t stick tape anywhere. You don’t even close the door. You just fall face-first into bed and drift off to sleep.

In the mornings, you always wake up all tucked in with a smudge of JJ’s strawberry-scented lip gloss drying on your forehead.

And… you’re happy. Happier than you’ve ever been.

‘Course, you still get sad sometimes. You still think about Sir and miss him even when you know you shouldn’t. You still visit Sissy every year, lay pretty pink flowers at the foot of her grave. (Sissy always loved pink.) But, things are different—you’re not alone. Your moms are always, always, always at your side.

You think Sissy would’ve liked them. Loved them, in fact.

After all, you certainly do.

— —

end notes: the song is “ain’t no rest for the wicked” by cage the elephant and uhhhh that’s it? i think? i Love using fanfic as a means of self-projection <3

#jj x emily #jemily #jj x emily prentiss #criminal minds #cm #stuff i wrote #criminal minds fic #cm fic #f!reader #reader & emily prentiss #reader & jennifer jareau #emily prentiss #reader-insert #jennifer jareau x emily prentiss

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carelesscreativity · 4 years ago

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KillerDust Wholesomeness for FateBean: Commission for Ko-Fi

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

(SFW, Fluff, Dismemberment)

Dust finally calmed down, staring through the red haze. He inhaled sharply. Someone was... laughing? He twitched. The smoke cleared to reveal the training room once more. He always went just a LITTLE berserk during training, not like he could help it. Especially when the monster he was sparring with was an insufferable, cocky asshole.

Speaking of which, where was Killer? The first thing he did was check his stats. His HP hadn’t gone up, nor had his LV increased, though he doubted he would be able to see that one, considering he’d been at LV 20 for a LONG time.

If he hadn’t killed him, where was he? He moved forward through the dusty cloud and his foot hit something. He twitched and glance down. That... He reached down. His fingers curled around the bone and he scooped up Killer’s detached arm. He continued forward.

Dust heard Papyrus whispering feverishly over his shoulder for him to finish the job. The laughing, which he’d pushed to the back of his mind, now became impossible to ignore. It wasn’t one of the voices. He narrowed his glowing eyes.

There. A bright red glow cut through the air and Dust moved towards it. He hit another of Killer’s limbs, this time being his leg. He gathered it as well. Killer was laying on the ground, all of his limbs broken off as a purple circle of bones surrounded him. He blinked and his laughter died down a little as he saw Dust. The hooded skeleton moved over and knelt next to him, the bones disappearing back into the ground.

He set down the limbs he’d collected as Killer continued to giggle. “Damn, Dust!! Did I really spook ya that bad with that knife trick?? I wasn’t expecting the sudden annihilation!” Dust stared at him. He reached out and Killer froze up, his voice catching in his throat for a moment. He prayed Dust wouldn’t see, but he knew Dust was far too observant to miss them. Sure enough, the other’s grey-stained thumb pat at his cheeks, where red tears had started running down, almost camoflauged in the black liquid that constantly streaked down his face.

Dust could hear Papyrus whispering vehemently for Dust to kill the other. “He’s immobile, brother! He TRUSTS you and we can use that!! Do you know how much LV we could harvest from him alone?!” The ghostly head insisted.

Killer watched as Dust’s glowing eyes remained unfocused. That meant he was listening to his brother right now and Killer knew better than to interrupt. He wasn’t crying from fear, that was for sure. He wasn’t sure why it HURT so much. He’d been dismembered before. It wasn’t that big a deal. His determination would keep him together. He could feel his soul struggling to maintain a shape. He inhaled shakily.

That single sound seemed to snap Dust back and he immediately leaned over the other. He stared at him with wide eyes before asking in a quiet raspy voice if he went too far. Killer gave a wheezy chuckle as he shook his head. “J-Just hurts real bad... Dunno why. I’ve lost limbs before...” Dust stared at him a moment longer before twitching and beginning to mumble to himself.

He seemed upset and Killer wanted to reach out to him. He couldn’t, but he wanted to. He could hear Dust pulling his discarded limbs over. “C-Can ya attach my arm first?” He asked quietly. Dust paused before nodding, bones heard clacking together. Killer jumped as he felt Dust match both ends up to one another and begin to heal them. After a few moments, Killer was able to twitch his fingers.

He let out a quiet sigh of relief, Dust pulling back to study his work. He jumped as Killer’s fingers gently snagged the edge of his hoodie. Those crazed glowing eyes rose to meet Killer’s. “Hey...” Killer said, chuckling softly. “I didn’t nick ya anywhere, did I?” Dust stared at him before giving a weak scoff and shaking his head. Killer could hear the worry and shame in Dust’s voice. “Dusty... look at me...”

He saw Dust twitch a little at the nickname, his eyes raising to meet his again. Dust’s soul always squeezed a little when Killer called him that and he’d been annoyed by it before. Now, his soul still squeezed, but in a way that wasn’t necessarily bad. He blinked as he noted Killer’s target soul stabilizing into something a little less circular. He immediately looked up to the black-eyed skeleton’s eyesockets. Maybe a little too eagerly. Sure enough, glowing white rings were beginning to appear. They were completely fixed on Dust.

He didn’t realize how much he liked it when he could tell Killer was actually looking at him. “Look... M’sorry... Kinda lost it...” Dust mumbled awkwardly, scrunching up his shoulders. He could hear Papyrus frantically voicing his disapproval as he realized Dust would let Killer live. He was even more pissed that Dust was apologizing. Killer stared at Dust before giving another soft laugh.

“I’m not mad, Dust! I knew what I was gettin’ into! You’re always super intense in training and I LOVE it!” He cackled softly before settling down. “Though I would appreciate all my limbs being reattached soon.” Dust blinked and gave a quiet nod, fetching one of Killer’s legs. It had snapped off at the knee, conveniently. He began to fuse that back on. Killer watched the other as he worked quietly. He laid back and closed his eyes.

He finally felt all of his limbs again and managed to push himself up into a sitting position. He smiled at Dust. “Well, I guess that means ya won that round!” He chuckled softly. “One day, I’ll get the drop on ya!” Dust blinked and moved his eyes away, mumbling quietly that he doubted it. Killer grinned. He moved over and settled right next to Dust, close enough that their femurs were touching. The hooded skeleton glanced at him.

Killer reached out and hugged Dust, resting his head on his shoulder. “I’m okay, so you don’t gotta worry.” He assured him. Dust twitched, his stained fingers clicking against one another uncertainly. He kept his head ducked and his gaze averted. He mumbled quietly and Killer tipped his head, urging him to speak up.

“You were crying... actually crying and you said it hurt... and I panicked a little. Cuz you don’t cry...” Dust said quietly. He was shaking a little. He had genuinely thought he may have... He looked up at Killer. The other seemed taken back before reaching out and rubbing one of his thumbs under his eyesocket, where Dust’s own purple tears had gathered without him realizing. Killer’s shoulders sank.

“Hey, hey, I’m okay now!” Killer insisted quietly. Dust looked away, mumbling that he knew. He was still fiddling quietly with his fingers. Killer reached out and put his hand over both of Dust’s. “Look at me! I’m fine!” He rested his head against Dust’s shoulder again. The other still didn’t answer and Killer hummed. “Dusty...” He said softly. Dust’s cheeks faintly tinted purple as he glanced over at him. “You know I’m the WORST at comforting, but I’ll do it.” He spoke in a warning tone.

Dust blinked before giving a weak scoff. He jumped as Killer yanked him down, the hooded skeleton now leaning against Killer’s chest. He stared at the glowing soul next to his face. He could hear Papyrus insisting how easy it would be to just crush it and that Killer was a fool for allowing them so close. He was hissing for Dust to do it. Instead, the hooded skeleton closed his eyes and weakly nuzzled Killer’s chest.

“There we go.” Killer murmured quietly. He gently slipped his hand up, pushing it under Dust’s hood. The other shivered as Killer ran a hand over his skull, holding him close with the other one. He watched as Dust’s stained fingers began to creep towards him and he allowed it. They dug into the fabric of Killer’s hoodie and Dust pulled himself against the other. Killer tipped his head. He slid his hand down to Dust’s cheek.

He was able to cup it before he felt the other turn their head. Killer felt his face heat up a little as he felt Dust’s warm breath against the palm of his hand. He slipped his other hand under the hood to hold the underside of Dust’s jaw. The crazed skeleton was relaxing against him and Killer was absolutely tingling at the sight of being able to calm this murderous powerhouse with his touch alone.

He was waiting. He could feel the other’s bones relaxed against him, so now he was just waiting for one more thing. He felt Dust twitch as Killer began to gently rub his cheek. There was nothing for a moment. Then, Dust gave a tiny shake. A small noise started up in the back of his throat and Killer paused, always ecstatic to know that he was able to get Dust to do it. “You like that, hmm?” He asked softly.

There was no mocking tone to his voice and he was sure Dust could tell he was being genuine by the steady pound of his soul in front of his chest. Dust continued to purr quietly as Killer ran his thumb over the other’s cheek bone. Dust had his eyes closed. “Hey, why don’t we go to a bed? My ass hurts, sitting on this floor.” Dust nodded before mumbling that Killer didn’t have an ass. “Well, not yet.” Killer teased softly

Dust gave a soft scoff and nodded. Killer closed his eyes and teleported them both away, leaving behind the smoky, debris-covered training room.

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ckret2 · 4 years ago

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meta about Vox & abuse with a side of Angel

Posting about Vox today reminded me of the thoughts I had a few days ago when the Insta accounts first posted those pics of Val smashing Vox’s face for getting his drink order wrong. So here’s a post mainly about Vox but a little about Angel.

So we've got confirmation that Val has shattered Vox's screen multiple times at this point. But there's been no evidence of violence from Vox toward Val, has there? I think it's all been one-sided. Think mention was made that Vox broke Val’s TV at one point, but as far as I can recall that was a one off—whereas Val has threatened to beat Vox’s face in more than once and done so more than once.

Cut for length but also for mentions of abuse—mainly just about how that abuse could affect the narrative/character arcs rather than discussing it in detail.

We might find out later that Vox, Val, and Vel’s dynamic is intended to be read as three goofy roughhousing villains who beat on each other as slapstick comedy and don’t really suffer any long-term physical/mental consequences—Vox & Val’s shark attack on Vel sure suggests that possibility—but the fact that Val’s violence toward Vox appears to be much more frequent and significant, plus the fact that Val is already being characterized as a very scary very real abuser, definitely leaves open the possibility that we’re supposed to take the actions between VV&V more seriously, too.

And it’s definitely easy to take it seriously. Like, looking at this post:

Look past the “haha TV face man got his TV broke, like a TV” visual gag, and this is a some guy taking a selfie of the black eye/broken nose his boyfriend gave him.

But it would be easy to see even these posts as "cartoony jokey violence" unless you stop and remember oh yeah this cartoon plays closer to real world rules rather than bugs bunny rules. There IS still a chance they could play it off as looney toons violence where we're supposed to go "lol look how awful VV&V are toward each other”—but I'm hoping that they do play it as an actual abusive relationship.

Maybe have them treat it like cartoony funny violence. Maybe have them telling themselves that this is all funny, it’s all games, if you’re tough enough then a little thing like a broken screen doesn’t REALLY hurt—and you ARE tough, right, aren’t you Vox?? Aren’t you some big bad overlord?? You’re not some fuckin loser who gets butthurt over a broken screen, are you?? It’d be really easy for the three of them to tell themselves/each other that how they treat each other—especially how Val treats Vox—is fine... and then for the show to peel off the surface layer of their clowning around and point out the damage that’s really being done.

As far as what this means for Vox’s character, I’m interested in the possibility. Vox is currently slated to be an endgame villain for the series. I'm liking the implication that Vox can be this big powerful nigh-unstoppable villain... but is also still just as vulnerable as anyone else to being suckered by an abuser. That's an unexpected but intriguing avenue for character depth.

And if they're willing to give Angel an in depth character arc over being abuse at Val’s hands, then it would feel really weird if they don’t give Vox the same treatment. Not necessarily an arc that ends in character growth, not necessarily one that that concludes with him getting free and/or getting on the road to redemption—particularly if he’s gonna be an endgame villain—but at least one that takes it seriously and explores how that abuse affects his character. It could even make him a good foil for Angel, showing how the two of them handle it/are affected by it differently. (And if canon doesn’t give us that arc, I’ve got two hands and a keyboard and an AO3 account, and that is a threat.)

Saw a theory that this is recent treatment, that Val’s moved on to a fresh target now that Angel is out of reach—but I don’t think he is out of reach. Val is still demanding money from Angel at the start of the pilot episode; and it’s hard to tell from the “Addict” video what’s present day and what’s flashback, but between the insta posts around its release and the video itself, it seems like the dance is definitely present day and the abuse/assault is probably present day. So Angel isn’t out of reach, so Val didn’t “move on” to another target. Which probably means this is just how he always treats Vox.

tbh I’m, like, immediately ten times more invested in Vox/Val than I was before these posts solely out of a desire to get Vox out of that relationship lmao. And/or the desire for Vox to pull his big square head out of his ass, look at Angel, and go "oh wait I've been looking down on him but I should probably be, like... empathizing with him."

I mean you've gotta figure. They move in close enough circles that they've GOT to have seen the results of Val's treatment on each other.

But they apparently haven't ended up allies because—what reason? Maybe Vox looking at Angel and going "Well it doesn't matter what happens to HIM, he's just Val's pet stripper. Our relationship is different, Val and me are equals. We just roughhouse. That's all it is." Maybe Angel looking at Vox and going "Well he's on the same power level as Val, he could obviously just leave if it was bothering him. But he doesn't act like he's bothered, so he must not be," coupled with maybe not even consciously recognizing shattered screens as, y'know, an injury.

Or maybe they’re jealous of each other because they don’t see the full extent of how Val treats them. “What’s Angel complaining about, at least Val doesn’t beat his face in.” “What’s Vox complaining about, it’s not like he’s gotta dance for Val to pay rent.” Either because Val keeps them from getting to know each other too well, or because they’re both currently too emotionally immature to work out how to empathize with each other.

Or maybe Angel does recognize Vox’s situation but doesn't feel like he's got room to reach out when it's VOX, who oozes power out of every port and who gives off the impression that he would be violently offended rather than grateful if someone suggested he's any sort of victim.

Maybe part of Angel’s redemption arc is going to involve recognizing how bad Vox has got it, deciding that even a douchebag like Vox deserves the same chance at salvation that a douchebag like Angel got, and trying to invite him into the hotel to get away from Val.

And maybe part of Vox’s trajectory toward becoming the final villain will be rejecting Angel’s compassion, because he’s clinging so hard to this idea that he’s only “safe” as long as he’s the most goddamn powerful sinner in hell that he can’t bring himself to let go of the lie he tells himself about his own supposed invincibility, even when somebody’s reaching out and offering to help him.

(... All that said, I’m still waiting on standby with my keyboard and my AO3 account, fully prepared to write that “Vox goes to the hotel and now the healing can begin” fic.)

#(*puts Angel and Vox safe in a cardboard box and fills it with pillows and blankets*)#(*but also hangs up a blanket between the two of them so that they don't interact*)#hazbin hotel #vox #angel dust #valentino #meta #abuse

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hazzoranstories · 4 years ago

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Damon Salvatore x Reader One-Shot | Katerina’s Sabotage Part 3

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4 Part 5

Includes: Blood, violence, attempted murder, mentions of sex, breakdown, and harsh language

________________________________________________________________________________

*Mystic Falls, Virginia: Gilbert House; Present Day*

John was grabbing something as Elena walked into the room, hands placed in her pockets. He closed it and was met with the leering gaze of his daughter. He jumped out of his skin, then muttered, "you scared me."

"Sorry," Elena mumbled and started cleaning up the dirty dishes.

"You know, I first met Isobel when I was a teenager. I fell in love with her instantly, although I'm pretty sure she never loved me," John began, and Elena looked him from head to toe, slightly unamused as she turned back to the dishes. John brushed it off and continued, "She was special. And part of why I hate vampires so much is because of what she became, how it ruined her. And I never would have sent her to Damon had I known she wanted to turn. It's my fault."

Elena started plunging knives into the knife block with boredom. "I'm telling you this . . . . because I hope maybe you'd understand," John finished and made his way over to the Gilbert.

Elena nodded and eyed him. "Thank you," she whispered.

John smiled softly at his daughter before asking, "can I help?" He gestured to the knives. Elena glanced down at the ring on his finger and uttered a 'sure.'

John had barely moved an inch before Elena raised one of the knives and cut John's fingers on his left hand. John screamed in terror as he stared down at the blood smeared across the island.

Elena shoved him into the counter with a scowl, and John's eyes widened. "Katherine?" he gasped as Katherine gripped the collar of his shirt.

She turned into her vampire form and smirked at the man. "Hello, John. Goodbye, John," he groaned loudly as Katherine stuck the knife into his abdomen. The Pierce's smirk grew every second as John collapsed. She then heard Elena approaching and hid in the corner. She watched Elena walk in and was fascinated that someone could look so much like her. She truly was her doppelganger. Elena rushed over to John, who was still grunting and moaning.

Elena dialed 911, and that's when John noticed Katherine's presence. "Behind you. Behind you!" he warned his real daughter, who gasped and whipped around. But nothing was there.

~:*:~

*Mystic Falls, Virginia: Hospital; Present Day*

"She doesn't know how. Do You?" Damon cut in Elena and Bonnie's conversation. Y/N was, like usual, by his side with his arm around her waist.

"No. I don't," Bonnie replied, and Elena looked shocked.

"No, you don't. Because it took Emily years to learn a spell like that," Damon snarked.

"Oh, well, I can take down a vampire. That spell was easy to learn," Bonnie barked back.

Damon turned to Elena and sighed. "I can give Caroline some blood," he whispered to her.

"No. No way," Elena shut down immediately.

"No, no, no, just enough to heal her. She'll be safe in the hospital, and it'll be out of her system in a day. She'll be better, Elena," Damon argued.

"It's too risky. I can't agree to that," Elena said.

"Do it," Bonnie snapped, and everyone looked at her. "This is Caroline. Okay? We can't let her die. Do it," the witch growled.

"If I do this, you and me, call a truce," Damon gestured to him and Bonnie.

"And you and I are going to have a truce," Y/N told Elena, who pursed her lips. The two girls hadn't exactly hit it off when they first met. Y/N knew Elena wasn't Katherine immediately, but she still didn't like her. It was a constant wake up call that her sister is still out in the world.

"What do you have to do with this?" Elena spat.

"Damon's my lover; I have everything to do with this," Y/N shot her sister's doppelganger a fake smile.

"No. But you'll do it anyway. For Elena," that was Bonnie's last words before walking away.

"Uh --all right, I know this is probably the last thing you want to do right now, but we should talk about what happened tonight," Damon mumbled to the Gilbert.

"Yeah, one of the tomb vampires got into the house and almost killed John!" Elena worried.

"What? What -- when? What are you talking about after I left?" Damon questioned.

"You were there?" Y/N and Elena inquired in sync.

"Come on, Elena, you know I was," Damon said, starting to get irritated.

"When were you at the house?"

"Really? Earlier. On the porch. We were talking, all cathartic, feelings exposed," Elena still was lost, and so was Y/N, who had her arms across her chest. "Come on, you kissed me, Elena," Damon finally snapped. Y/N shot her head over to Elena, who had furrowed eyebrows.

"You bitch," Y/N sneered and started walking towards Elena, but Damon held her back. "So, you don't like me; then you kiss my boyfriend? Huh. So that's what it's going to be like now? How'd you like it if I made out with Stefan? No, better yet, how would you like it if I slept with him?" Elena was fuming at this point, and even Damon was shocked at the vampire's inability to stay in control. He also didn't like the thought of Y/N being in Stefan's arms, which made his grasp on her tighten.

"Elean! I came as soon as I got your message. How is John?" Jenna interrupted, and Damon groaned quietly while tugging Y/N to the side.

"Where have you been?" Elena asked.

"At the fire department. I had to fill out a report. I told you earlier," Jenna stated, and Elena narrowed her eyes at her aunt.

"No, you didn't."

"Yes, I did."

"No, Jenna, you didn't."

"Yes, I did."

Since Y/N and Damon were listening to the conversation, they had put all the pieces together and were shaking their heads. "You gotta be kidding me," Damon hissed. He then noticed both girls staring at them, and the couple raced out of the hospital.

"I'm gonna kill her. I gonna kill her. God damn it!" Y/N kicked a nearby branch, and it flew into a car, denting it. Damon rested his hand on her shoulder and shushed her.

"It'll be okay, Y/N. We'll get her back for this and stop her, okay?" he stopped when Y/N whipped around, her eyes turning dark.

"No, Damon! We are not doing anything! I'm going to put a stake through her heart once and for all! No one else is going to be involved. This is between Katerina and me. She has taken everything from me. Her actions got our entire family slaughtered, she took my freedom when she turned me, she took my life, she took me away from you, she made me starve for a century and a half, and then when I finally have my life back, she slips through the cracks and starts breaking it again!" The Pierce cried with tears etching up on her, but her eyes' veins began to get noticeable.

Damon pulled her into his chest and caressed her hair. "Come on, let's go home," he rushed her to the boarding house, and before he could even set her on the couch, she burst into sobs.

~:*:~

By the end of the next night, Katherine had made two appearances, one at the Gilbert's house again and another at the Lockwood's. Y/N refused to be holed up all day like she was for the rest of last night, with Damon comforting her. Katherine had affected her enough throughout her immortal life; she didn't deserve any more tears.

It wasn't until she and Damon returned from the Lockwood's party did Katherine dare show her face in front of her sister.

Damon was pouring himself a glass of bourbon as Y/N waited upstairs for his return, only in one of his dress shirt and her panties. She then heard commotion going on downstairs.

The Pierce slowly got out of bed and walked downstairs to see Damon pinned to the floor with her sister on top of him. "My sweet, innocent Damon," Katherine seduced.

"You know he prefers shower sex rather than floor sex," Y/N cut in and leaned against the doorframe. "A little kinky, but I've grown to tolerate it," she smirked at her sister, who had hesitantly gotten off Damon.

"Y/N . . . ." Katherine trailed off, and Y/N's smirk turned into a sadistic smile. For once in her vampire life, Katherine was anxious, and Y/N could feel it.

"Hello, Katerina. It's been a while, sister."

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