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makeste · 3 years ago

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BnHA Chapter 328: Pandora’s Box of Discourse

Previously on BnHA: DEKU TOOK A BATH.

Today on BnHA:

youtube

Also Naomasa grew a beard. Goddamn.

please let this be a cool chapter that plays nice with my ADHD lol

(ETA: lol I feel guilty because a lot of people hated this chapter, but I’m just happy there was a lot of stuff to make fun of, and also that I have another week to work on my backlog of meta posts since the kids were MIA.)

around one month ago?? ah, okay, so we’re gonna find out what was in that Tartarus security file huh

I love that they just randomly set the place on fire

was it necessary to do this in order to escape? no. was it a good idea to set the island they were occupying on fire while they were in the midst of still occupying it? uh. was it cinematic as fuck? fuck yeah

wow it’s a pervert!!

that’s so great that the villains set loose this fine fellow who I’m sure is definitely not a serial rapist. truly the LoV is so noble and misunderstood. they’re just trying to free society from its chains people

oh my god??!

SHANKED!!! oh my god I cheered for Stain before I realized what I was doing. time to have an identity crisis I guess

so he’s all “hey what’s going on.” which, while a respectable question, is something I personally would have waited to ask until I had put a bit of distance between myself and the fiery murder island. but that’s just my personal preference

Stain you really are tenacious I’ll give you that

“what’s the point of escaping prison if you’re not gonna be smart about it” well shit. anyways yeah you’re dead right, society is in the process of collapsing and the outside world is in total chaos, good call there

oh shit

I mean it’s not like we really expecting anything otherwise, but still. fucking brutal. I feel like these guys’ fates were decided the minute that one guy called AFO “scum” back in chapter 94. AFO is unmatched at getting long-term revenge

ahh, was it the security footage??

fdsdfk he’s still alive??

and he’s immediately launching into an inappropriately theatrical monologue even as the darkness closes in on him fdlfksjdlk. you know, was it ever confirmed that the other guy back in chapter 297 was Seiji’s dad? I’m just saying

very impressed that he’s still coherent enough to weigh the pros and cons before making the decision to gamble on giving this info to Stain, who at the very least has his own moral code and isn’t allied with AFO. it was definitely still a risk, but as we now know it was also the right call

what a weird alliance. so Stain tells him that he’ll give it to a just person, and the guy is all,

okay for real though I’m gonna need someone to run a DNA test on this guy. maybe it was some kind of cuckold situation?? the other guy had the family resemblance, but this guy absolutely 100% raised Shishikura Seiji and you are not going to convince me otherwise

anyway, so Stain is all,

PRISON GUARD: “???? ??????? what the hell. what the fuck does that fucking mean. I’m dying here, jesus christ, whatever man fuck you”

(ETA: I kind of feel like this might have been Stain’s last appearance in the manga, given all the fanfare. there’s not really much else he can do for the story at this point, and he seems to have gotten all the character development Horikoshi was planning on giving him. so if this really is it, hasta la vista and good riddance I guess.)

DWLFDKSLDK MEANWHILE, OUTSIDE

(ETA: I feel like this is meant to be evocative of that Sermon on the Mount painting, but in a really fucked up way lol.)

if it were me stumbling upon this scene I would just shake my head and walk right back into the flaming building. not getting involved in that mess. sorry not sorry. I’ll take my chances with the fire, especially given that it’s half-assed neutered BnHA fire lol

blah blah blah and so he decided to pass the info on to All Might -- HOT DAMN, HOLY SHIT

NAOMASA HOLY SHIT. THE APOCALYPSE LOOKS GOOD ON YOU, BOY

“I really like that facial scruff thing Aizawa’s got going on, I think I’m gonna get in on that” yes sir. “also thinking of ditching the tie in favor of the bulletproof vest look. also thinking of getting totally fucking jacked.” good lord. except I’m pretty sure that’s just body armor, but also I don’t care. anyway I should probably stop staring and actually read the fucking speech bubbles here lol

“All Might first handed this information over to Nao, and then went to see Deku, and then came back to Nao” thanks for that tidy little summary Horikoshi. we are capable of piecing events together in sequential order, I just want you to know that. but thank you

“so has Deku finally gotten a bath? also, sucks that Stain saved the day, but what are you gonna do” Nao I missed you so fucking much and didn’t even realize. how am I just now realizing that you are the perfect man

for a second I was gonna ask why Tartarus’s security systems would be cut off from the outside world, and then I remembered that’s a basic security control, and then I actually got impressed by how sensible that is. like, it’s been a while since I could genuinely say that the good guys (excluding class 1-A) did something smart. not that it helped them much in the end, but still

anyway so they’re talking about how AFO was able to coordinate the attack by communicating between his horcrux self on the outside and his ugly peanut-faced self on the inside

huh

okay you have my attention. I am taking notes here lol please continue

ah okay so he says that prior to Jakku, the transfer of information between him and his Vestige self was only one-way. but post-Jakku when Deku was in the hospital, he was able to tell what was happening inside the OFA Radical Lisa Frank Dead People Book Club Realm when he touched him. I feel like we established that before, actually. but he didn’t talk about how it actually felt, though

boy we already know this lol. yes AFO can talk with his horcrux self. and he can also communicate with his little bro in OFA too, let’s talk about that sometime why don’t we. what exactly does that imply, based on the rules we’ve established here

my god I cannot get over Naomasa and his fucking facial hair

no wonder All Might was in such a hurry to leave Deku and get back here

like I have no idea what this radio waves nonsense is but my god, people

that jawline. also so it’s a quirk, I see. except last I checked Deku didn’t have a radio waves quirk, so that doesn’t really explain his connection to AFO. but whatever, hopefully we’re at least getting closer to some kind of reveal here

(ETA: since I sometimes forget that other people’s lives don’t revolve around my theory posts, here are the two relevant links if you by chance want to know my thoughts about this.

Hagakure is still The U.A. Traitor™ regardless of whether Deku is passing information on to AFO through his psychic link, which he almost certainly is.

speaking of said psychic link, Deku is a horcrux.

just posting these now, because whenever trippy OFA stuff happens I tend to get an influx of theory asks. so hopefully this will be a bit of a time saver lol.)

-- wait, what

THAT’S what the recording was??!? holy SHIT. I genuinely was not expecting that. y’all wiretapped his fucking telepathy. fucking quirks, man. wild

AND THEY USED THAT POWER TO DETERMINE WHAT WE ALREADY KNEW, HUZZAH. GOOD SHOW

-- oh shit wait lol, except I forgot we’re not talking about 38 days from the present, we’re talking about 38 days from the date the conversation was recorded. heh. um

yeah that’s the face I would make too if All Fucking Might just casually told me we had eight days left until the end times

oh, pardon me. three fucking days

r.i.p. anyone who thought we were going to have another band arc sob. I sure hope Deku is enjoying that nap

(ETA: I realize people were hoping for a longer rest period here, but given that the man warned us all the way back in chapter 306 that we were entering the final act, you can’t really blame him too much when that turns out to be true. anyway but I do recognize that we’ve reached the point in the story where this kind of discourse is going to become a weekly occurrence, simply because there’s no possible way for Horikoshi’s actual endgame to line up perfectly with the variable headcanons of millions of fans, all of whom have wildly differing and in many cases contradictory expectations which can’t possibly all be fulfilled. anyway, so I’m already bracing myself for that lol. this coming year is going to be a wild ride.)

damn, U.A. out here looking like the motherfucking United Nations

-- is this U.A.?? I actually just realized, U.A. is four interconnected buildings, not two. wait holy shit is this Shiketsu?

wait holy SHIT

based on the overwhelmingly powerful vibes of bureaucratic incompetence, I’m thinking this really is the (future) U.N., or whatever organization it is that deals with international hero stuff

“just let them handle it themselves I’m sure they’ll be fine” yeah okay, thanks guys. appreciate it

wait oh shit did he say that it’s not just Japan?

soooo, what you’re telling me is that AFO is this close to bringing about the end of not just Japan, but the entire world, and you guys don’t think it’s a good idea to help the Japanese heroes stop him? so, genuine follow-up question: are you guys already planning your rich people exodus into space a la Wall-E, and that’s why you don’t give a fuck?? like, what??

omg international heroes

these guys are from World Hoodie Mission, right? is this Horikoshi’s way of reminding me to buy tickets

(ETA: and it worked too lol.)

WHO??? WHAT???

don’t tell me you’re introducing yet another badass new female character for me to fall in love with only to watch as you dismember them and/or blow them up, Horikoshi. I’m getting tired of playing this game my dude. don’t lie and tell me this time will be different. we’re not doing this again goddammit

noooooooooooooooooooo

god fucking dammit lmao. [sighs and rips the previous paragraph into shreds]

on behalf of Americans I apologize for our superheroes always being Like This

I also apologize because I love her already and I’m gonna be shameless about it. so fucking shameless you guys

is her fucking hair red white and blue. it is, isn’t it

this is the volume cliffhanger, 100% lol. it will take every ounce of Horikoshi’s willpower not to put her on the volume cover. he’ll have to settle for the spine or the inner cover this time because Deku VS his class 1-a superpals takes precedence. but it will be a close thing let me tell you

tbh it’s that smile that does it for me. she’s definitely All Might’s protege. get out there and show them how it’s done girl. and maybe call Salaam and BRD and see if you can’t convince them to play hooky from their governments as well. why not. world’s ending in three days you guys. “sorry, I’m busy this weekend” ain’t gonna cut it lol

so while I am not fully caught up with Vigilantes, I have read far enough to know that there’s an American hero named Captain Celebrity whose superpower from what I recall is being a humongous douchebag. and while I haven’t read far enough to know what happens to this guy, I can’t say I’m very disappointed to learn that he’s no longer the number one hero in the U.S. (actually, didn’t they kick him out and that’s why he moved to Japan to begin with?). anyway, so my thanks to Horikoshi for having a marginally higher opinion of Americans than Furuhashi, even though we have definitely not done anything to warrant said opinion lately, and you may have inadvertently opened the door to a pandora’s box of discourse lmao

(ETA: lol I went into the tags and they don’t disappoint. “why is she dressed like a flag” because she’s an homage to Captain America and Major Victory and literally every other character on this list. again, I apologize for fictional American superheroes being Like This. “oh boy another thicc waifu to make the fanboys happy” look, tumblr fandom never seems to have a problem thirsting over Dabi or Tomura or Aizawa or Nao, lol, I’m just saying. “where is Captain Celebrity” idk, probably murdered by the exploding bee cartel, let’s just be grateful for our good fortune and try not to Beetlejuice the man.)

anyway, so let’s see if Horikoshi’s recent character development with regards to making Mineta not terrible anymore will apply to other aspects of his writing as well. I know I was making light of discourse just now, but I do think the complaints about him introducing yet another new character at the 11th hour to be cannon fodder in the final battle are absolutely valid. and again, it wouldn’t be a problem if he didn’t keep maiming/killing off his female characters one by one instead of developing them and letting them kick ass long-term. but that said, I will never complain about Horikoshi adding another female character to the series, regardless of how clumsy the attempt may be. go ahead and pander away, just give us more girl power lol

anyway so we’ll see how it goes, but I think I’m gonna be optimistic and let myself hope once again, even though I’m probably gonna regret it lol. it is what it is. she is standing on an airplane just chilling for fuck’s sake. I’m only human. anyway fingers crossed

#bnha 328 #stain (bnha)#tsukauchi naomasa #all might #stars and stripes (bnha)#all for one #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha #eta: how did I forget to type 'bnha' in the title sob

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mellowswriting · 4 years ago

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Sweet but Fierce S/O

**some of these are more blurbs than headcanons... what can I say, it got away from me

Mando:

The duality is something Mando sees often with you, and he can’t deny that he loves it. You aren’t just sweet and soft with him, an experienced bounty hunter who by definition was the opposite of soft, but you were so good with the Child. You could get him to sleep like you had cast a spell over him, fed and played and talked with him as if you could actually understand his babbling. Soft and sweet wasn’t something Mando saw often in his life and now he can’t get enough of it.

But Mando is familiar with fierce, and seeing the way you protect the Child and his beskar-clad father? It honestly turns him on beyond comprehension. How can the same hands that provide comfort and care so readily also viciously break the bones in the wrist of someone unfortunate enough to have made a grab for the Child? How can the same hands that make warm, delicious food for your little clan (a habit you picked up after balking at Mando’s tendency to survive solely on ration bars) also steadily hold a blaster to the temple of an idiot who tried to remove Mando’s helmet?

As a Mandalorian, he is so used to the world being black and white, either or. Every bit of you is refreshing to him - the considerate gestures, the soothing touches, the biting need to protect those you love. It’s a precious quality.

It’s also incredibly attractive. Mandalorian culture is based in caring for and protecting children, so seeing you so fiercely loving?? Basically it makes him want to rail you into oblivion, but that’s neither here nor there.

Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales:

Frankie could use a little sweetness in his life. It’s been a tough time, coming back from all that shit that went down in South America. He was closer than ever with the boys of course, but something was missing. He needed something more. So when Pope introduced you to him at his barbeque, Frankie was beyond interested.

It was a whirlwind, falling in love with you. You changed his life in the best ways; taught him which yoga poses would help with his achy back, filled his house with soft blankets and delicious coffees, listened to him ramble on as he drove. And the way you talked about your work, your career? It’s enamoring.

Your work is how he gets to see that fierce side. The two of you were out to lunch when your phone rang - it was one of your clients, apparently dealing with some sort of crisis. Frankie couldn’t deny you when you asked him to drive you to her home, especially since he had driven you to the small restaurant. Frankie leans against his car door as you go up to her house.

Apparently her landlord was illegally trying to evict her. You have no issue getting in his face and telling him with a terrifying kind of calm that you have no issue calling the police and your company’s lawyers. You’ll have him buried in litigation and fines for the next decade if he doesn’t stop being a greedy piece of shit and go about his day elsewhere. If that wasn’t enough to have Frankie wide eyed (and drooling just a bit tbh), you seem to fall right back into your sweet self as you calm your client and reassure her that all will be fine.

Hell, maybe Frankie could use a little spitfire in his life, too.

Javier Peña:

How? Just. How?

Javier doesn't understand how you've managed to be so sweet when surrounded by the shit you both worked with everyday. Your eyes are so bright and soft, your smiles easy and pure, every gesture full of unwavering kindness. Working in admin meant you saw all of the reports, all of the gruesome pictures of the aftermath of Escobar’s men. So again: how?

Christ, you always offer to get coffees for him and Murphy on those endlessly long days where every lead seems to fizzle out and he wants nothing more than to put his hand through a wall. Your presence is a bright spot in the office, even when the rain clouds hang heavy around his head.

Javier seeks you out on those bad days. It isn’t intentional - usually, at least. He’ll tell Murphy he needs to go for a walk before he starts throwing things and will find himself at your desk with you looking up at him with those big, soft eyes and asking if you can help at all. If only he had the words to tell you that your presence was helpful in and of itself.

Eventually Murphy gets onto him about it, tells him to just ask you out already because he’s tired of the longing. So Javi bucks up and makes his way to your desk with a surprising amount of nerves in his stomach. Fuck, how long had it been since he asked someone on an actual date and not just out to drinks as a prelude to fucking?

The sight of Agent Buchanan perched slightly on the edge of your desk gives him pause. The man is obviously laying on the charm and Javi is about to turn on his heel when he notices how uncomfortable you look. Javi’s eyes narrow because seriously? This dude is gonna fuck with the one literal ray of sunshine in the office? Buchanan leans forward and places his hand on your thigh and that’s when Javier is marching forward to break his spine in fucking half…

Before he can even get to you, you slip your fingers under his and give him that soft, sweet smile… and Buchanan’s middle finger is shoved back at a vicious angle. Over his pained sounds, Javier can hear the anger in your voice. “I said no thank you, asshole.”

Holy fuck. If Javier was interested before, he’s downright obsessed now.

And as always, the honorable mention of Javier’s innocence kink.

Ezra:

At first Ezra thinks it's some sort of bluff, the charming and easygoing nature you portrayed. When you came across him in the Green wounded and in dire need of a new filter and probably a meal or two, you just… helped him. His very own partner left him for dead, and here you were, offering him a lifeline without expecting anything in return.

Yeah, no. That’s not something that happens, especially not in the Green.

He isn’t afraid to call you on it, either. This man is straight and to the point in every aspect of his life, might as well do the same in his death instead of getting jerked around. But you just… grinned, all conspiratorial, and whispered, “I’m actually just using you for good karma. This is a selfish act, don’t worry.”

Huh.

It takes Ezra a moment to be assured that you aren’t playing some kind of long con as you nurse him back to health. You still clean his wounds and force him to take medication to help his lungs recover from the toxic air with confidence and ease despite his untrusting looks. Once he gets over his fears, there’s no getting rid of him. Ezra likes you. He likes the sweetness, the gentle touches. That’s why he offers you his partnership and beams when you accept.

Besides simply liking you, your kindness is a rarity that sparks a deep need in Ezra to keep you safe, protected. The idea of you harvesting on your own with no one to watch your back makes him feel sick to his stomach.

It’s the third day he’s out harvesting with you that he realizes you absolutely do not need his protection. You hear the duo approaching before Ezra does and immediately shove him into the raised, gnarled roots behind a tree - and the shot that would’ve caught him in the chest flies harmlessly past. Before Ezra can tell you to stay put and let him handle it, you’re scrambling out from behind the tree and he can hear the sound of your thrower discharging and a body crumpling to the ground.

Ezra shoots out to help but you’re trying to wrestle the other man to the ground and Kevva damnit, he can’t get a clear shot with all that writhing about. Just as he goes to jump into the mix, whatever hold you have on the man straightens his arm out behind his back in a harsh, unforgiving line. The man’s thrower slips from his incapacitated hand and the sight of you snatching up midair and firing it right through his helmet has to be the most erotic thing Ezra has ever seen.

You can expect this man to wax poetic about the twofold of your personality for hours. Goes on and on about how he loves seeing the different ways you light up: in passion, in pleasure, in anger. It’s downright titillating.

Marcus Pike:

Working with you gives leaves Marcus in the perfect position to see both sides. You’re so compassionate with the victims as you guide them through the legal processes but you also look ridiculously hot with a gun in your hand. Or while you pull on your bulletproof vest. Or when you’re strapping a holster to your thigh.

What can he say, Marcus can’t get enough of you either way.

He loves when you give him that grateful smile when he brings you a coffee. The shoulder rubs you give him when he’s been sitting at his desk for too long leave him hazy with a mix of love and pleasure. The way you open your arms up for him to crawl into bed, still half asleep but still wanting him against you… it was pure heaven.

Marcus also loves the hard edge in your voice when you’re interrogating a suspect. He loves the fire in your eyes when he wraps a hand around your throat and growls out exactly what he’s going to do to you, that bratty energy radiating off you and filling him with the need to break you down until he gets to see the pretty, begging glimmer of his sweet little thing again.

Max Phillips:

Max is the kind of man who loves having a pretty, wide eyed thing beneath him, watching their face morph into that surprised pleasure. That’s exactly what he’s gonna get from you, too. He just knows it.

You’re the kind of person everyone loves working with, always offering a smile and kind words throughout the day. You work so hard and so diligently, that work ethic is something that leaves you offering your assistance when you’ve finished up before closing time. Max thrives on those moments where you peek into his office and ask if there’s anything he needs - maybe a coffee or some help with some paperwork.

One day he decides, fuck it. Throws caution to the wind because hey, this is Max fucking Phillips we’re talking about here. So he waves you in when you pop by, lets you sit in one of the chairs on the other side of his desk, and whispers “You can help by bending that pretty little ass over my desk.”, his hands braced on either armrest.

The last thing Max expects is a harsh smack across his face. He stumbles back, eyes wide as you stand and glare at him. “Go fuck yourself, Phillips.”

Okay, yeah. He deserved that. The great thing about him, though? Max also loves the chase. And what could be better than slowly but surely convincing you that the best thing for you is letting him rail you into oblivion?

Pero Tovar:

Before he sees that fierce side of you, Pero keeps his distance. He’s a sellsword for god’s sake, he feels he has no business around such softness. He’ll hurt you, he’s sure of it. But that doesn’t stop him from looking. Pero often sees you in the market and every time, you take his breath away. You could usually be found aiding an elder in gathering their shopping into their carts or kneeling down to speak with the local children running amok.

As a man who spent his life surrounded by battle and hardship, it was a nice change.

It wasn’t long until he caught your eye, and Pero floundered. He didn’t know what to do with that first small gesture - he just stared at you when you offered him a small bundle of cheeses and meat to aid him on his two month long journey he was about to set off on. Of course he later cursed himself for the stunned silence he offered in response to your well wishes and the small wave you gave before you left him standing like a fool next to his horse.

Pero would thank you properly when he returned, that was the resolve he came to while away. You deserved to hear the words at the very least. He takes a moment to clean up before he sets out to find you, not wanting you to see him covered in grime, and as always, he spots you within moments of entering the village. Except something is… off. Your face through the shop window lacks it’s usual brightness, your eyebrows pinched together, something akin to fear replacing the brightness your eyes usually held. That’s when Pero realizes there’s a man holding a dagger to the shopkeeper and demanding the man's coin.

By the time Pero has his own dagger in hand and shoves through the door, the man is already crumpling to the ground from the harsh kick you landed at the back of his knee. Pero watches in awe as you take advantage of his confusion to snatch the blade from his hand and point it at him with your foot pressed firm to his back.

Despite just how amazing you look like that, Pero takes over quickly, wanting you out of harm’s way immediately. The assailant is taken care of after a small struggle and when you rush towards him to make sure he isn’t hurt, a fire lights in his belly. As you fret over him, your soft hands searching for any harm to his scarred, calloused skin, Pero knows. He’s found his person, he can feel it in his gut, deep in his bones.

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apocalypticpsiboys · 3 years ago

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This is a playlist for the Earthbound AU "Everlasting Night"! Includes songs that fit the vibe of Giygas' darkened world as well as some songs for the main protags!

The songs I gave the boys reflect things that happen to them in the AU as well as popular music during their time/their tastes in music!

Hope you all enjoy!! <3

--- --- ---

E V E R L A S T I N G N I G H T

Through the Valley // The Last of Us Part II (Ellie Cover) "I walk through the valley of the shadow of death. And I fear no evil 'Cause I'm blind to it all. And my mind, my gun they comfort me. Because I know I'll kill my enemies when they come."

Last Day Under the Sun // Volbeat "Nobody really knows, How many years went by, The lion left it’s home, and now he’s good and fine Another day will come, full of light and desire."

Bein' Friends // Mother 1 Soundtrack (Catherine Warwick) "When you're lookin' for someone you can rely on, Don't you ever doubt me. I'll be there someway, somehow. That's what bein' friends is about."

--- --- ---

Ness - "The Bane of Giygas"

Smells Like Teen Spirit // Nirvana "With the lights out, it's less dangerous Here we are now, entertain us I feel stupid and contagious Here we are now, entertain us"

Unity // Shinedown "Put your hands in the air If you hear me out there I've been looking for you day and night Shine a light in the dark Let me see where you are 'Cause I'm not gonna leave you behind"

The Otherside // Red Sun Rising "How long how, long can you carry this note? How low, how low can we keep digging this hole? Until we come out on the other side"

Lucas - "The Boy Cursed to Wander Dimensions"

"We Miss You" Love Theme // Mother 3 Soundtrack "If I call, if he hears, He will turn towards me, free from his fears. Shine on one dear child, one so very small, One who carries on alone, strong after all."

Deja Vu // The World Ends With You Soundtrack "Where did we meet before just like this I know your smile Your voice just like that You talk to me and I smile right back I don't believe in fantasy."

Get Up // Shinedown "If you were ever in doubt Don't sell yourself short, you might be bulletproof Hard to move mountains when you're paralyzed But you gotta try."

Ninten - "A Light in the Dark"

Here Comes the Sun // The Beatles “Little Darling, it’s been a long cold lonely winter, Little Darling, it feels like years since it’s been here, Here comes the sun, Here comes the sun, and I say, it’s all right”

Under Your Scars // Godsmack “Do we make sense? I think we do, in spite of everything we’ve been through, oh and you say black and I say white, it’s not about who’s wrong so long as it feels right, don’t think those stars won’t align, under your scars, I pray you’re like a shooting star in the rain, you’re everything that feels like home to me, yeah.”

Blitzkrieg Bop // Ramones "Hey ho, let's go Shoot 'em in the back now What they want, I don't know They're all revved up and ready to go"

Claus - "Giygas' Last Hope"

Ghost // Badflower "I tried it like before and this time I made a deep cut I thought about my friends and the way I didn't give enough And I shoulda told my mother "mom, I love you" like a good son But this life is overwhelming and I'm ready for the next one"

Emotionless // Red Sun Rising "With lips closed and eyes sealed You're sculpture with a pulse I wanna capture your essence and keep it here forever little one And I feel good about you not telling anyone"

Through the Ghost // Shinedown "All the perfect moments are wrong All the precious pieces are gone Everything that mattered is just A city of dust Covering both of us"

BONUS SONGS!!! (These appear in the Everlasting Night fic!)

Pollyanna (I Believe in You) - Mother Soundtrack "You may say I'm a fool feelin' the way that I do You can call me Pollyanna, say I'm crazy as a loon I believe in silver linings And that's why I believe in you"

Free Bird - Lynyrd Skynyrd "If I leave here tomorrow Would you still remember me? For I must be traveling on now 'Cause there's too many places I've got to see."

Sweet Child o Mine - Guns n' Roses "She's got a smile that it seems to me Reminds me of childhood memories Where everything was as fresh as the bright blue sky Now and then when I see her face She takes me away to that special place And if I stare too long, I'd probably break down and cry"

#earthbound au #earthbound #mother 3 #Nesscas #Clausten #apocalypse au #everlasting night #everlasting night au #everlasting night playlist #playlist #I HAD A LOT OF FUN WITH THIS!#Also if you guys have any song suggestions or songs that make you think of EN #send em my way!! I'd love to hear em!!#EN Art Archive

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fraks · 3 years ago

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LEVERAGE REDEMPTION 1x16 THE HARRY WILSON JOB

- yep, still a wreck, thanks for asking.

- "how long have you been standing here?" - "i just got here." i don't believe you, eliot, and neither does sophie. god eliot is so, so angry. :(

- sophie hasn't heard from harry. sadface. but also, eliot specifically asks HER if she's heard from him, implying that if he called anyone, it would be soph. not-so sadface.

- "i wanna kill a lot of people all the time, i just don't." WOW. there's a lot to unpack here, parker.

- this scene is super intense and sad and all, but all i can think is how gorgeous everyone is. sophie always, ofc, but parker, too, and breanna. and eliot's hair is like... on a whole other LEVEL. 🔥

- TWO MONTHS LATER. [bites nails]

- uh oh, things are not going well. fjsjfbje parker running into the glass door. "smells bulletproof." fhskfbks i love her.

- "getting my free taser." FGTJSJRHKA PARKERRRR

- oh shit bligh is there. OH SHIT HARRY IS THERE!!!!!!

- "he wasn't sad, he was just going back to being evil harry." umm NO. NO FUCKING WAY. NOPE. I REFUSE TO ACCEPT THIS. NOT MY BABY THIEF.

- "he recognised me! we were" [gestures] "this close together, and he let me walk away." oh, how close was that, sophie? 😏

- THERE'S NO WAY HARRY IS A BAD GUY AGAIN. NO FUCKING WAY. i hate that they basically said he was only trying to be good to get his ex back. but even if that was his motivation, he's STILL GOOD NOW. after she's made it clear she doesn't want him back. but look ghsjfjskkf sophie is the only one who still believes in him. SOPHIE DARLING, YOU'RE ALREADY IN LOVE, BUT YOU CAN'T ADMIT IT YET. that's okay though. there's time.

- "we're not having this conversation again. he lied to us before and we let it slide because he was your project." first of all, OUCH. second of all, there is nothing these crazy kids wouldn't do for their mum lbr. ♥️

- i stg though if sophie leaves, i will CRY FOREVER. i only watched 2.0 FOR SOPHIE in the first place. and now they've gone and made me fall in love with harry, so i can't STOP watching. which means i'd just miss her forever. so no. that's not happening. and gina loves being back with her leverage family, right? RIGHT?

- "LET'S GO STEAL OUR MR. WILSON." THIS IS MY FAVOURITE ONE YET!!! AND PERHAPS EVER!!!

- "bring him back in one piece." - "i'm not gonna promise that, man. maybe two, three large pieces at the most." ELIOT PLS. don't be like that.

- wait the hacking thing isn't working the way it should. I THINK HARDISON IS THERE. I THINK HARRY CALLED HARDISON FOR HELP.

- "it says 112 days without an accident. they're due." i am laughing harder than i should be.

- "i just spent the last eight months working with a crew that take people like you apart for breakfast. i'm not just a lawyer anymore." harry i SWEAR TO GOD if you're evil again, i will KILL YOU MYSELF. but that was a pretty impressive line, ngl.

- yeaaah that's definitely hardison's handiwork. which means harry is NOT evil.

- "how did you— oh right. you're... you." I HAVE MISSED THIS MORON and i haven't even been away from him for two months.

- "i know this code." called it!!! awww everyone is so happy to see him! eliot's face just... LIGHTS UP. tptb might try to deny the ot3 is real, but the actors sure don't.

- "so we're not killing harry?" - "that was a discussion point??" a) lmao, and b) well dude what did you expect???

- "it's not cool to keep us out of the loop." - "i'm guessing that was someone else's doing." oh going right for the jugular, miss devereaux, aren't we?

- i know i'm just quoting at this point but i am overwhelmed. OVERWHELMED! /wedding job reference

- "and yes, it WAS a cover!" MY BABY IS BAAACK.

- LMFAO PONY FANS. "that one was not what we thought it was." 😂 "you did that on purpose?" - "maybe." LISTEN I AM 100% HERE FOR HARRY+HARDISON FRIENDSHIP.

- ok i know this is not gonna happen, but it's 7am and I haven't slept so imma take a minute to pretend "mr. wilson, a word" means sophie is getting harry alone for a sec so they can make out after not having seen each other for two+ months.

- oh god. the way his voice breaks when he says he almost got breanna killed. THIS MAN.

- oh FUCK "guilt destroyed my family. i'm not gonna let it destroy yours." oh JESUS. okay first things first: IF SOPHIE'S NOT GONNA PUT A RING ON IT, I WILL. LET ME WED HARRY WILSON. but also, jfc he's SUCH A GOOD MAN. and such an IDIOT because DUDE YOU'RE PART OF HER FAMILY TOO NOW. and sophie oh my god. i can't even imagine all the things she must be feeling. she's been angry at him for being reckless and disappointed that he left them and yet hopeful that he can't have gone back to the dark side, and it all comes crashing down right now, but not because harry acted selfishly. he realised he HAD been acting selfishly and decided to do the opposite and PROTECT the people she loves most in the world.

- aaaah fuck and "we can't go it alone" PLEASE LET THE CATCH IN HER VOICE BE SOPHIE REALISING THAT LEAVING ISN'T THE RIGHT THING FOR HER. i mean they really can't. as a reason for her leaving, she gave that she needs to find herself. and we've DONE that. she already went off to find herself, and she did. and she came back. and maybe she needs to find herself again now, but the difference is that while she had to do it alone the first time, she needs to do it WITH her family this time. i am not accepting other interpretations.

- I AM SOBBING. "HELP ME FINISH THIS, PLEASE." OH MY GOD. AND HER "OF COURSE" IS BOTH RELIEVED THAT HE DOES WANT TO BE WITH ALL OF THEM AND TO BE PART OF HER / THEIR FAMILY, AND ECSTATIC THAT HE ASKED. GOOD GOD HOW. WHAT IS THIS SHOW DOING TO ME????

- "you should probably apologise to eliot, though. he's been very upset." awww babieeeees. :')

- "i'm assuming hardison has apologised to eliot by now." lmao this entire team knows that eliot is the softie. like in 1x01 when parker tells sophie eliot was very worried about her. I LOVE IT SO MUCH.

- i'm very distracted by harry's massive new ring. what's that about, dude?

- "this is my grand finale." ugh she still plans on leaving. WHY. i mean, i can guess why. she first considered leaving to run from her feelings. she didn't want to get hurt again. and then harry went and DID hurt her. so she thinks she's got even less of a reason to stay, and more of a reason to go because she realised the extent of her feelings for harry WHEN he hurt her. ugh gdi show. (but also, what if she did leave for like, a month or two and in that time, harry got seriously hurt and idk, eliot called her to let her know and she rushed to harry's side? 👀)

- ahahahahaha oh my god taggert and mcsweeten. they did it. tptb did what they / john rogers always said they would: they made taggert and mcsweeten more or less the LEADERS OF THE FBI.

- jfc eliot really can't catch a break can he?

- it's interesting how the marshall has a similar dilemma to harry re: the law and what's right and what's wrong. she believes eliot and the team are doing good. that they're helping people. but she can't look past the fact that they are (/were) criminals. which makes the conclusion different from harry's—she goes the other way. she DOESN'T redefine her thinking about morality.

- that desk is ugly af, harry...

- "we trust him." THAT'S RIGHT. 🥰

- "i just got used to being alone. i let my guard down." uh dude, you haven't been alone in 13 YEARS. awwwwMAAAAAAAAN "i know it's not the same thing, but hardison and i are gonna be here for you... forever." - "ya." - "we'll always be together." - "til our dying day?" - "no. past that. even after we get the robot bodies." oh my goddddd. i LOVE this so much. i just really, REALLY wish they hadn't led with that qualifying statement of "it's not the same thing". because it IS. and even if it's not, it feels like a slap in the face to all the ot3 fans everywhere to explicitly say that eliot's relationship with h+p is in some way less than the relationship he had with the marshall. if anything, it's MORE, even if you don't headcanon them as poly. (i have a very specific headcanon for the ot3 that most active ot3 shippers probably don't share, but even MY headcanon is being destroyed by tptb. i can't even imagine how all those fans feel whose MAIN SHIP is the ot3.) they've known each other and worked together for THIRTEEN FUCKING YEARS. and with the work they do, even if they had no other interaction outside of it (which they clearly do, with eliot cooking for them and movie marathon time and all that), that would still mean a lot more than a, what, a six-month relationship with someone he barely even sees? i am NOT AMUSED.

- anyway. "i don't want a robot body." - "well that's too bad, we already measured your head while you were asleep." now THAT'S what i'm talking about. THIS is the kind of thing that allows all interpretations of this ship. did they sneak into eliot's room one night just to measure his head? or did they not have to sneak anywhere because he sleeps right next to them anyway? MORE 🙌🏻 OF 🙌🏻 THIS. 🙌🏻

- "alright, if you already measured my head." YESSSSSSSSSSSS. HIS LITTLE SMILE. HE LOVES THESE TWO SO MUCH. ROMANTICALLY, PLATONICALLY, IT DOESN'T EVEN MATTER. THESE ARE HIS PEOPLE. TIL THEIR DYING DAY.

- uh ooooh.

- "THEIR WEAKNESS IS YOU." FUCK YEAH IT IS. BECAUSE THEY LOVE THEIR MR. WILSON.

- holy shit. "i'm here to make you an offer." HOLY SHIT. sophie devereaux has never been more attractive to me. NEVER. NOT ONCE. cool control and power look SO good on her. i love when she plays weird and loud characters, too, but this is her at her best. just. sophie devereaux, pissed off.

- also, i very VERY much appreciate that she's in all white whereas riz lady is in all black. alexandra bligh was never ELIOT's nemesis in this show / season, despite what 1x01 might have tried to make us think. she was always sophie's.

- "i think you're a distraction. i'm meant to be looking at you and missing the fact (...)" did it just get really gay in here? i already got those vibes at the christmas party in bucket job. @cminerva and i joked that riz lady definitely wants to bang sophie. but maybe it wasn't a joke at all. 👀

- "what if you miscounted?" JESUS THIS IS THE HOTTEST THING I HAVE EVER SEEN IN MY LIFE.

- AHAHAHAHHA OH MY GOD THE RING!!!!!! THE DESK!!!!!!!!! HARRY WILSON YOU BRILLIANT MAN.

- "never tell them the 'or'." - "if you say it'll work, it'll work." - "i believe in you." I LOVE EVERYONE IN THIS NOT-SO SECURE BUILDING. well, everyone on our team, that is.

- PARKER GOT TO PUSH HARDISON OUT THE WINDOW AGAIN. :') and then she and breanna jump out together fhakfhejwn lmao.

- "that was a very long minute. but have you forgotten how this conversation began?" jeeeesussssssssss. i'm so gay. I'M SO GAY.

- "did you really think it was a good idea to give eliot spencer sixty seconds of darkness?" just. leave me here to die. it's fine. i've been slain by sophie devereaux's sheer HOTNESS. the best death i could have imagined.

- "as your legal counsel, i would have advised you to take that deal." YASSSSSSSSSS HARRY!!!! god everyone is so hot in this.

- THE GLOAT. :') but listen there's no way riz lady won't be back. 👀 GRABBYHANDS

- "you blackmailing 'em?" - "uh huh." - "we're gonna double-cross 'em, too." FJAJFJWIDJFJWKFJ hardison is so proud of his girls.

- "we can't cover it up because we confessed!" fhskfjskfjkwjdkwjfj I LOVE THIS SHOW SO MUCH

- awwww harry finally getting a chance to be a full-time dad. :')

- "it's just the start, man." - "not for me." NO. NOOOO. HE CAN'T. HARRY YOU CAN'T.

- "i think i'm done." oh god. no they can't. they can't do this to me.

- "i'm like a little pinch-hitter/hacker and like a little taste-grifter/thief; i'm half a lawyer now at best, but maybe if i mix that all together, i can still be something and do some good." god i just. i GET it. i get what he's doing. but it's NOT THE RIGHT THING. "i'm gonna become terribly poor." oh god.

- but he LOVES THEM ALL SO MUCH AND THEY LOVE HIM. HE CAN'T GO.

- god listen. what if noah was never a permanent fixture? what if he was there to INTRODUCE redemption, both as a show and as a concept? WHAT IF HARRY ISN'T COMING BACK? i feel physically ill thinking about it. it HURTS me. i NEED him to be there.

- "sophie." oh god. i take it back. i don't want him to say her name. not if it's a goodbye.

- and jfc that h/s scene. I DON'T UNDERSTAND. SHE FUCKING KISSED HIS CHEEK. AND THEY TALK SO OPENLY ABOUT THEIR FEELINGS. THEY WERE BOTH GRIEVING WHEN THEY MET AND THEY FUCKING HELPED EACH OTHER. AND SHE KNOWS WHERE TO FIND HIM IF SHE NEEDS HIM (that's gotta be code for him coming back right??? RIGHT????). and then she fucking WENT AND TOOK OFF HER RINGS. JFC. SHE'S READY FOR A NEW LIFE. AND SO IS HE. BUT HE'S LEAVING. AND HE HAS PLANS. PLANS THAT ARE REALISTIC. HE PLANS ON BEING POOR BECAUSE HE PLANS ON HELPING PEOPLE. HE COULD EASILY TAKE CASES THAT NO ONE ELSE WILL AND HELP PEOPLE THAT WAY. PROBABLY FAR MORE EASILY THAN HE COULD GRIFT OR STEAL OR THROW PUNCHES OR HACK. HE SAID IT HIMSELF, HE'S ONLY A FRACTION OF ALL OF THEM.

- .

- i'm trying to finish the episode. i'm a little bummed now that she did call him harry once before because that takes away from this moment.

- and god eliot's checking in on soph with just this one look to make sure she's okay now that HARRY IS GONE OH GOD.

- "that was a hell of a final performance, miss devereaux." 🥰

- "i don't think that was my final performance." oh my fuCKING GOD

- jfc i had forgotten about this speech of sophie's. i knew that there was SOMETHING yet to come that @cminerva and i talked about, with soph talking to the team while wearing that animal print thing. i remembered that much from sophie's "the team is back" promo, but i couldn't remember the CONTENT of the speech. "THIS is my stage." sophie, darling, EVERYONE has been trying to tell you this cause they've all known since victor fucking dubenich (the FIRST time). so she's staying, at least. AND SHE'S GOING TO BE THE MASTERMIND. OFFICIALLY. IT'S EVERYTHING I EVER WANTED FOR HER. she's BRILLIANT and god this is perfect. except.

- "YOU SEE ME AS I COULD BE." THIS IS SO STUPIDLY ROMANTIC AND INTIMATE AND RIGHT UP THERE WITH "I DIDN'T WANT YOU TO LOOK AT ME AND KNOW THAT". BECAUSE THEY FUCKING SEE EACH OTHER. THROUGH ALL THE LIES AND ROLES AND OMISSIONS. THEY SEE EACH OTHER. THEY CAN'T GIVE THAT UP. and FUCK I JUST REALISED HOW MUCH THIS MIRRORS PARKER'S LITTLE SPEECH ABOUT HOW HARDISON WAS THE FIRST PERSON TO REALLY SEE HER AND THAT'S WHY THEY WORK SO WELL AS A COUPLE. OH MY GOD.

- I'M SO SAD. I DON'T WANT TO BE SAD.

#leverage #leverage redemption #the harry wilson job #harry wilson #sophie devereaux #tv: leverage #ship: harry x sophie #liveblogging #redemption spoilers #leverage redemption spoilers #leverage spoilers #spoilers

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maplecornia · 3 years ago

Text

chapter 26

𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱: 1.85K

𝔰𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: You watched them from the sidelines ever since you were a young teenage girl. Now you’re grown up, they’ve returned after 2 long years and everything has changed. What happens when you pull back the mask and find the darkness within? What happens when you see that they’re broken?

𝔞/𝔫: i don't think i'll ever get over how hot Namjoon is ;-;

You groan as you lean against the pillar near the entrance to the BigHit building.

Last night, when Taehyung walked you back to your apartment, you didn't sleep very well. Turning to glare at your rather disheveled reflection in the mirror, you let out another groan.

Why did he have to show up? You were perfectly fine, things were perfectly normal, and then he had to screw up your heart all over again. Letting out a small scream, you throw a 3-second fit before leaning your back against the clear glass wall.

Sooner or later, you're going to have to go in.

Why can't it be later?

Letting out a guttural growl, you pull yourself off of the glass and head inside the building, stomping like a little two-year-old. You really don't want to see him today, you're afraid of what will happen if you do.

You don't want to fall.

Please God, don't let me fall.

Entering the building, you feel a bit more comfortable, not so out of place. Now, you have a purpose, a plan; a reason for being here. Smiling softly to yourself, you walk forward, this time nothing in your way. As you reach the receptionist's desk, you smile as you recognize Jojo behind it.

Playing coy, you knock twice on the desk before glancing away and holding your head in your hands. She glances up, ready to greet the newcomer but as soon as she sees your face, she breaks into a grin.

"Ah~ it's the snoozer, early today I see." You frown at the nickname but when she smirks your way, you can't help but grin like a giddy child. It feels good to have friends or at least the beginning relationships of one.

"I told you, the time was wrong." You pout, flopping on the desk and she laughs before preparing the schedule you need for Namjoon today.

"Mmhmm, and what happened yesterday? Was Mr. Kim too tired of waiting and told you to stay at home?" The mention of yesterday causes your grin to fade a little. With it comes the memory of Taehyung, and he starts to reenter your mind. Pulling yourself off the desk, you smile weakly, shaking your head.

"No, I had an injury, Namjoon wouldn't let me come in." She blinks a bit in surprise at the informal way you address him.

"'Namjoon?' Huh, I didn't think the two of you were that close. You only met once after all." She mumbles before typing something into her computer. Realizing your mistake you let out a small gasp.

"Oh, I'm sorry. He told me to call him without honorifics, I suppose it slipped my mind." You look away from her, a bit embarrassed, but as soon as she presses the print button, she chuckles.

"Don't worry, Yen. I was just joking." When you don't look at her, she sighs a bit before lightly knocking on your head. Surprised, you rub your forehead and pout as you meet her gaze once more. Smiling, she pays no mind, presenting you with an ID badge. Your eyes widen as you see it, and you take it from her waiting fingertips.

"Is this mine? I didn't think they'd process it so fast."

"Of course it's yours, whose else would it be?" Jojo chuckles, leaning over the counter and pointing to your name. "See? Lin Yen."

You bite your bottom lip, trying to suppress your grin. Somehow, this makes things all the more real, you can't help your delight at the sight. Jojo catches sight of the cute expression and can't help but laugh as she pulls away.

"Now hurry up, the schedule is all ready for the day. Don't forget to check in with the head manager, you remember his name right?" She reminds you, making you pause for a moment before you run off.

"Of course, it's Kim Sejin. Everyone knows that." She smiles at the coy response and waves you away.

"Okay, hurry up and go then. I'm sure Mr. Kim is waiting for you." You bow to her before taking off, a small bounce to your footsteps.

Walking through the halls without Namjoon is a bit scary, but exciting at the same time. You can't help but love the butterflies coursing through your stomach, and is it weird that you kind of want to barf and dance at the same time? Everything is so exciting and new, it's as though the world has been painted a different color.

You try your hardest to forget everything, just live in the moment as of right now. No more worries about the past. About your friends. About your mom. About Taehyung. Right now, you need to focus on yourself.

And this job seems like the perfect escape for that.

Humming slightly to yourself you do a little twirl in the hallway before turning the corner...

...and bumping right into Kim Namjoon.

You let out a small shriek, stumbling back, your body shrinking into a small protective ball like it normally does. It's a little defense mechanism you've acquired over the years. Your eyes closing themselves tightly, you don't realize who you've bumped into until he takes you by the shoulders and catches you mid-air.

Blinking as he rights you, you look up and find yourself face to face with your boss.

"Are you okay?" he asks, his voice coated with worry, and you chuckle a bit nodding sheepishly.

"Yes, I'm sorry I should've been paying attention to where I was going." You reply, stepping back from him. Though he sighs in relief as he releases you, you find that there’s a heavy cloud hanging over his head. He’s not fully there with you, lost in some unforgotten thought. Furrowing your brow in confusion, you wonder what happened to make him look that way. You open your mouth to ask him about it, but he's already speaking, and your words fall on deaf ears.

"It's a good thing that I bumped into you." You tilt your head in expectation, curious to what he's about to say next. "I needed to talk to you."

"But your schedule isn't ready yet--"

"That can wait."

You open your mouth to protest, but he's already taken you by the hand and is dragging you down the hallways.

Even though you cry out incomprehensible questions and sounds of alarm behind him, he can't seem to hear you. He doesn't want to hear you. His mind is too cluttered with the events of yesterday.

The outlandish plan that BangPD has in store for you.

"Why her?" He asks, his hands clenching tightly at his sides.

After the meeting, BangPD requested to meet privately with Namjoon, after all, he was the leader and one of the people that Sihyuk trusts the most. It didn't matter to RM anyway, he needed to talk to Sihyuk as well, and if it had to be on his terms then so be it.

Bang Sihyuk glances outside at the setting sun, casting shadows throughout his office. Serene and insoluble, shadows meant to conceal that which he would rather keep inside. He sighs before answering, his hands secured behind his back as he stands before the massive glass window.

"You know, BTS wouldn't have existed without you. If I had never come across you that day, if I had never been inspired to create a group that will strengthen and invigorate your music, we would have never gotten here." Namjoon glances at him in frustration. He hates when people beat around the bush, but his respect and humility won't allow him to speak out against his senior.

"It's the same with her."

Bang Sihyuk reaches out and taps on the window before letting out a soft chuckle.

"Did you know that glass is so easily broken? That is, when it's on its own. But when you fortify it, when you strengthen it with multiple pieces, then it becomes indestructible." Turning around to face Namjoon, he smiles.

"Almost Bulletproof."

Biting his bottom lip, Namjoon remains silent as he watches BangPD walk to his desk and sit down. He raises his brow when Namjoon remains standing, but when it's clear that he has no intention to make himself at home, he merely sighs.

"She auditioned before, you know. For the BE:LIFT project, for Source Music, she even auditioned for Plus Global." Namjoon balks at that. This is new information to him. He knew that it was her dream to be a singer, but never did he know that she wanted to be an idol. Especially since she's a foreigner, that would be near to impossible. "I didn't accept her."

"Why?"

"I didn't want to share her."

At the explanation, Namjoon turns away, running his hand across his face in frustration. This is much more complicated than he thought. Somehow, she's been connected to the company for the longest time. Not just through Jaejin, not through him himself, not even through Jungkook or Taehyung. Before any of them had a chance to see her potential, she's been on the mind of their former CEO since she auditioned 5 years ago. For a program, she would never be able to succeed in.

"I have been planning this for a while, Namjoon."

He's unwilling to accept it, he can't accept it.

"She's the missing piece."

At the thought, his hand clenches subconsciously around yours.

He can't stand the thought of you disappearing far from his reach.

And yet, almost against his will, he finds himself bringing you to the very fate that will keep you from him.

Perhaps forever.

He pauses when the door comes into his line of vision. Almost as though he were afraid of what lies behind that very same door. Mrs. Kwon looks up from her desk as the two of you enter the small lobby, and presses a button on her phone before muttering incomprehensible words to a person on the other line.

Out of breath, you place your hand on your chest before looking up at him. At the sight of his set jaw, and stony eyes, you can't help but feel a bit worried.

What exactly happened to make him look that way?

Once more, you open your mouth to speak to him, but Mrs. Kwon interrupts and you look at her in surprise, not noticing she was there.

"You may go in."

Confused, you turn to Namjoon, but all he does is give a nod to the secretary before stepping towards a massive oak door. Curious, you peer around him to glance at it, not quite aware of your surroundings. There's a small plaque on the door, one that reads the name of the person residing within in perfect neat letters.

방시혁

Bang Sihyuk.

Your heart stopping in your chest, you freeze halfway to the door, your hand slipping out of Namjoon's.

"Namjoon, why are we here?" you try to keep the fear, the anxiety, the worry out of your voice, but the efforts are futile. He swallows hard, steadying himself before turning to you, his warm eyes soft and apologetic.

"He wanted to meet you."

𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔢: you can probably guess what will happen next, but nonetheless i'm exciiiited

chapter 27 here

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honestgrins · 4 years ago

Note

could you do a continuation of chapter 29/49??

I'm glad you liked Reflection and Retribution, but I think I'm done with that universe. Could I interest you in Private Investigator!Caroline hired to infiltrate a criminal organization instead?

Also, many thanks to @recyclingss for being a kind ear and a supportive voice as I try to find my writing groove again. Thanks for the love, lovely (and sorry it’s not a new chapter of Burned)!!

Wanted || Klaroline

A squeak of hinges was all she had in the way of warning. Hurrying to tuck the files she'd been snooping through back into their respective cabinets, Caroline needed an excuse for her presence in the boss's office - and she needed one fast.

To give herself a bit more time, she slipped into the private bathroom. Her purse was lighter than her usual go-bag for an investigation, but that was the peril of working undercover. She shuffled through it anyway, only to find the makeup she needed to reapply between shifts, her wallet, car keys, and Taser. Fortunately, she had learned to be resourceful, and a plan quickly formed with what she had.

Unfortunately, the plan could go very wrong. As footsteps sounded through the door, however, her time to improvise had run out. Slathering on a fresh layer of lipstick for luck, Caroline fluffed her hair and made her presence known. "Sorry to intrude, Mr. Mikaelson, I just— Who the hell are you?”

Her winning smile had fallen flat at the stranger making eyes down the line of her mostly bare leg. True, the outfit had been meant to draw attention, but he wasn't her intended target. She'd been expecting the fastidious Elijah Mikaelson, with perfectly tailored suits and a too polite charm that just screamed serial killer underneath. This guy was far messier with untidy curls and the paint-splattered jeans. Cute, though. And that smirk.

"Mr. Mikaelson," he answered cheekily, "but please, call me Klaus." Making himself a drink from the bar cart, he poured a second glass for her. His brow arched when she refused. "Come to ask favors of the boss, but you won't drink his liquor. I assure you, he only buys the good stuff."

"I'm fine, thanks." She narrowed her gaze as he draped himself over one of the armchairs, giving her another appreciative look. "I thought the brother's name was Kol?"

His nose scrunched. "Unfortunately, there are five Mikaelson brothers. A sister, too. Nosy for a dancer, aren't you? Most of those 'Lijah keeps on the roster know to mind their business."

A mild panic took over; she was usually better at playing it cool. Now, she was going to get busted for asking too many questions. If she couldn't handle the unexpected brother, she really had no chance at taking on the mob boss himself. "Not a dancer yet," Caroline answered, aiming for sheepish with her hands tucked into the tight back pockets of her shorts. "I'm just a waitress until a stage shift opens up."

Ideally, she would be long gone before that happened, if only to avoid breaking an ankle in the heels. Not even her most rigorous pageant training could have prepared her for the skill those things took to work. That, and she needed to tidy up this case fast to get Damon Salvatore off her speed dial. And Stefan - she never would have accepted the job had he not played the friend card. Her only solace was the fact they agreed to double her usual rate for a job like this.

The tips were pretty great, too. Even just waitressing had earned her some nice spending money to splurge on clothes and pampering. Had the high-end strip club not been a front for Elijah Mikaelson to launder his ill-gotten gains, she might seriously consider moonlighting once the gig was over.

With the way the boss’s brother was eyeing her, though, that might happen sooner than she’d like. It wouldn’t do to get found out before she could track down what Damon asked her to find, and she did not relish the idea of handing back the hefty check he’d already given. Bristling, she crossed her arms, hoping to annoy him off the scent of her subterfuge. “Can I help you?”

Klaus, however, seemed unperturbed by her attitude. “If it’s better pay you’re after, I might have an opportunity for you.” When she gave an outraged splutter, he merely waved her off. “Not quite what you’re thinking, love, though I apologize for any offense. I’m in the market for a new model.”

“For your burgeoning porn empire? No, thanks.”

“I’m an artist, I would like to paint you,” he clarified with a wry grin. Leaning forward on his knees, he lowered his voice as though letting her in on a secret. “Any wardrobe choices — or lack thereof — would be entirely up to you.”

Sensing his interest wasn’t entirely aesthetic, Caroline figured she might as well learn what she could from the cad. “Don’t try to play me. The girls at the club talk, you know. I heard a rumor the Mikaelsons were, like, connected. The whole starving artist thing doesn’t really add up, so I’ll pass.”

Again, his gaze focused on her in an assessing way, lips still curled up. He took the bait. This was almost too easy. “I do alright, family connections aside,” he joked. “Perhaps you’d like to see some of my work...” Trailing off, he left her with an expectant look.

She pretends to cover a flattered expression with irritation. “Candy.”

“And if I were to check Elijah’s meticulous hiring paperwork?”

A beat passed. “Candice,” she relented with a sigh, reminding herself to buy Bonnie something gorgeous to thank her for crafting a bulletproof identity, complete with an otherwise authentic Social Security card and active social media accounts. “Candice Moore.”

That smirk of his spread to a full smile, and she was a bit stunned to see the utter delight on his face. “Funny,” he said, standing to move closer. Without meaning to, she swayed toward him in return, only to catch herself when he gave a teasing tug to her tousled braid. All her attention snapped to the mere foot between them, then to the intense blue of his eyes. "You look more like a Caroline to me."

Rearing back, she blindly reached into her bag. But Klaus was calm and collected as he plucked the Taser from her grasp. "Now, no need to panic, Ms. Forbes. I merely want to talk."

"Bullshit," she huffed. "How—”

He sat back in his chair, watching her with obvious amusement. "You're good. The cover might have worked had your application not been flagged by my security team. Don't feel bad, they're very thorough.”

The pieces were falling into place faster than she realized they were even missing. Unfortunately, she couldn't make herself focus past the first big answer. She finally took the drink he'd poured for her and downed it in one gulp. More potent than she thought, her voice was hoarse after a bracing cough. "Your security team."

His smirk was positively evil. "You seemed determined to learn the particulars of my organization, sweetheart, though I'm sorry to disappoint that Elijah's file cabinet wasn't able to satisfy your...professional curiosity. I, however, am more than interested in your questions."

With a snap of his fingers, the office door squeaked, and Caroline caught only a peek of the guard she hadn't even noticed lurking outside before the lock clicked into place. Alone with an underground kingpin without a weapon, she fell back into the other chair like the sitting duck she was. "I don't suppose I could distract you by accepting the modeling offer," she tried with a weak laugh.

Ever the surprise, he chuckled with her. "Always. But if you tell me what I want to know, I can offer you a far more lucrative employment. Good private eyes are hard to find, and you're the first to get this far without ruffling feathers."

"I ruffled yours, didn't I?"

If his smirk was evil, his bright smile was disarming. "Who hired you? I believe I owe them a nice thank you for this introduction."

Caroline watched him carefully, confused at the game he was playing. "My clients pay for results and discretion," she answered politely. "If you were to secure my services, with a healthy retainer fee—"

"Of course."

"—I would promise you the same. Unfortunately," she sighed with a pout, "I think this little mishap constitutes a conflict of interest. But thank you for your interest in Forbes Investigations. Can I go now?"

He leaned forward on his knees, his hands folded in front of him. "You know, I might be of some help to your current clients. Were I to assist in your investigation, there would be no conflict at all. The opposite, in fact."

Chewing her lip in thought, she shook her head and decided to cut her losses. "It has nothing to do with the business, not really," she promised. "I've been tasked with finding someone, someone I thought your brother might be supporting with some creative accounting. That's all."

"Don't tell me," Klaus groaned. "Katerina conned your clients then clawed her way back into Elijah's good graces to hide from the consequences of her own actions."

She scoffed. "Says the guy who lets the world think his brother is a criminal mastermind while he's pulling the strings behind the scenes."

Smirking, he didn't seem offended in the slightest. "Elijah's better with paperwork, but his decision-making is unreliable. I think Katerina is example enough of that."

"Fair." Caroline only met her once, but everything she had learned since Damon hired her painted quite the picture. That, and the fact she all but disappeared after he gave her an heirloom engagement ring, despite the fact she was openly gunning for Stefan throughout their entire relationship. "But it sounds like this was a surprise to you, too, so you probably can't be of much help to me in finding her."

"Reverse psychology is beneath you," he flirted. "And I've already offered to help. You're the one being stubborn."

With a roll of her eyes, she finally stood to pour herself another drink. "Yeah, I'm the stubborn one. You probably have a hundred investigators already on staff. What do you want with little, old me?"

He just smiled. "You want my secrets, you'll have to earn them, love. Now, do we have a deal?"

Oh, she was going to regret this; if only she wasn't so damn intrigued. Draining her glass, she set it on the table between them with a thunk before stretching out her hand. "Deal."

Klaus shook her hand with a firm grip, the contact distracting to say the least. Then, he just had to open his mouth. "The modeling job is a standing offer, by the way."

"Good to know."

#klaroline #klaroline drabbles #fic: wanted #anon anon #to rely on the kindness of strangers #miss me?

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darkenedreaper · 4 years ago

Text

So Was I

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x reader, Avengers x reader.

Warnings: angst, strong violence, language.

Part: 5/5

A/n: I’d like to state that I made up a few lines of poetry and I’m proud of myself.

For the time you had been taken it seemed like your body had been put under severe treatment. At this point you could’ve been gone for months. You recognised the big symbol that was painted onto the wall. Hydra. They had been testing on you, testing on the Avenger. Every day you’d go through a new pain until they found the right one. From what you could catch they were planning on using you as their next super soldier. They had obviously saw the News and what had happened and who did it to you, so they took their chance and succeeded. You were laying back onto the white bed, your arc reactor now had a new red vibranium lining on the outside of it and your new suit which stood beside you, was black, with the logo on the back. You felt stronger, stronger than you would after training, stronger than you would after once pinning Steve on his back. Steve. Steve Rogers, your enemy according to Hydra. And ‘let’s not forget’ they said ‘what that Russian Widow did you to you’. They now began another experiment on you, testing a new serum.

Back at the compound and above the ground. It had been 10 months, 3 weeks, 2 days 6 hours that you had been missing for. To say they were all ashamed would be an understatement.

Steve wanted to get away from his shield, he couldn’t look at it let alone touch it. On his wardrobe floor where he had placed it 10 months ago, it had pieces of the glass from your arc reactor surrounding it. From the impact, some of the glass had melted to his shield. He didn’t want to be reminded of it, but his tears for you couldn’t help but.

Tony nearly drunk his whole cabinet if it wasn’t for Bruce dragging him back to the lab. And then went Tony was alone, the man would cry.

Bruce didn’t want to focus on the thought of you being tortured, which you were or experimented on, which you were. But he did focus on doing everything to find your arc on the map somewhere.

Thor went back to Asgard and he didn’t want back to Asgard and he spat in everyone’s face that he didn’t want to talk to them unless the found you. His mother back at home was increasing getting worried of your absence.

Clint was home aswell to his wife and kids. Laura distanced herself from him whilst he was back there as she thought of you as family. The kids just drew drawings and tried to make their Daddy and Mommy feel better.

Wanda and Vision tried to buck up the team, but they were falling apart themselves and if they didn’t have each other, they’d be lost.

Bucky spent time on his own, he would stay in your room and sit in your chair, hoping you’d walk in the door and do his hair. He felt his arm was tainted but there was nothing he could do about that, so he tried his best to find you with Steve.

Natasha. She wallowed. She was dying inside. She wondered if the heartbreak she was going through was what you felt all those months, creeping around hiding from the team. If it was what you felt when she watched the shield drive into your heart. She didn’t dare go in your room. She couldn’t. She couldn’t look at herself.

She worked night and day trying to track you down, on every mission, in every country, yet all were failures.

They barely spoke to each other now. You affected them massively and they wanted their Y/N back. Whether you hated them or tried to kill them, they’d be so joyful that you were back.

Right now you felt best coursing through your veins and the machine that was attached around your head was slowly vanishing away your memories. You could feel all your knowledge slipping away from you. Your weaknesses being taken over from the amount of power your body had. You yelled out in pain as they would boost it up, clear it was working. A huge flash of light took over the large base and you were listening for your first command. You saw your Commander walk up to your face and he saw the change in your eyes. He snapped his fingers towards the leather straps that had metal chains wrapped over them. And you broke free from them. You hadn’t gotten taller perhaps a few inches, but your muscles were evident as your suit was placed onto you.

You were supplied with 4 guns and 3 knives. Your arc reactor had layers of protective and bulletproof glass coated over it. Now you were unbreakable. You didn’t have a name. You didn’t remember. You don’t remember your friends or if you had any, or any family. All you were focused on was your mission, the Avengers. And your main targets were ‘Captain America’ and ‘Black Widow’.

When you had been brainwashed they had managed to rid of everything except the torture the Avengers put you through. The heartbreak and physical damage. You were given your own jet and a black helmet with a red H on the front and you went off to the compound in search of one of your targets. And it wouldn’t take you long to get there.

Night had fallen at the Avengers compound and they were all in the sitting room. Silently watching a movie that no one was paying attention to. Jarvis seemed upset as he wouldn’t talk to anyone anymore, unless that was because she hadn’t been looked after for months. Friday nearly disabled herself because she was so mad at her boss. If she were a human she’d be looking for you non stop as you often had conversations with the AI.

They had all dragged each other for ‘bonding time’. They were so down and ashamed that no one heard heavy footsteps. Until Bucky picked up on the reflection and he sat up a smile on his face as it could be you.

And around the corner you came, every Avenger jumping up from their seats. No one noticed the Hydra suit because they were so focused on your breathing body. Until Natashas gaze landed on your eyes. She saw it wasn’t you, well it was. But right now you were a Hydra agent trying to kill the Avengers.

“Y/N!” Tony shouted with a big grin on his face. You pulled dour your gun and shot above his head and you would’ve gotten him if it wasn’t for Bucky pulling him away as they all scattered off in all directions. Right now you were behind a man known as Hulk. You were shooting everywhere at everyone who crossed your path or came into view. You were putting multiple holes in walls at once and you put your gun back and instead ran towards the coward and grabbed him t shirt nearly picking him up off the ground. You got out a knife from your thigh pocket and nearly jabbed it into him if it wasn’t for that voice that came from behind you and him.

“Y/N.”

You recognised the voice as Black Widow and she was a main target so you flung the other man into a wall, crashing him into the next room. You ran after her and you were nearly faster than her if it wasn’t for her jumping up into a vent. So you took a gun and starting shooting holes in the vents, hearing scurries of fear through the vents. Your super soldier hearing picked up on a whisper that came from East.

It was Tony and Wanda. They thought they were hidden as Tony was crawling towards the table with his iron fist on.

With one quick shot you blew it up. Wanda tried getting into your head but she couldn’t even get past the thick line of Hydra.

“Come on Y/N I made that! It’s Tin-Man you know me!”

He kept calling out a name you didn’t know and as he hit the wall you took a look at his arc reactor and looked at yours. You saw his hand pout from his to yours.

“The same. You see. It’s Tony.”

You put your hand around his throat and lifted him up, his head hitting the ceiling, and you started punching at his bright light. Groans, pleads and yells at you to stop game from his mouth but you soon threw him to the side aswell, discarding of him while he collapsed onto the floor. Watching you walk away, walking on the glass that had fallen from his reactor.

You went in search for the girl who was trying to break into your head and instead you ran into the man with the metal arm known as the Winter Solider. He was trying to call out your name trying to talk to you but you shut him up by grabbing him arm and jamming a piece of glass into his weak spot where the arm connected to the body. Footsteps were approaching and it was the girl again. You took a knife and held it in the air to jam into ‘Buckys’ throat but your knife was thrown across the room with some sort of red magic around it. You threw the limp body of the other super soldier towards the girl and she was too slow to react as he came crashing down into her.

The compound was a mess, glass everywhere, holes everywhere, a little spark came from a wire where your bullet had hit it.

Vision had also been seen to. He just approached you and you didn’t even acknowledge him so you just drove the bottom of your gun into his temple sending him down, and kicking him out of your way.

You would finish the targets of after you’d found your other two. You went towards the hangar where their jets were stored to see no one around.

Meanwhile, Steve was on his way down to you. His shield in his hands, not strapped onto him arm.

You knew who was behind you and pointed your gun to the troubled and saddened man who stopped in his tracks.

“Y/N. I know your in there.”

You walked up to him and smashed the gun into his face, making him fall onto his side, shield still in his hands. He got up.

“You’re not a Hydra agent. Your Y/N. Our family.”

With a grunt you hit his stomach with your fist, sending him flying backwards. He got up.

“I’m sorry Y/N.”

And now you sent your boot into his chest and made him fall on his back. This time he struggled to get up.

You had punched and kicked him so far bad that you near the edge of the runway, splashed of the water hundreds of feet beneath you. He got up.

“I’m not gonna fight you.”

He tossed his shield away from him, trying to bring you back. His face was bleeding, his back was in agony and his suit was torn because of how far and harsh he skidded backwards.

“Your my friend.”

It was an odd feeling, one you hadn’t felt for months. Did you know him? Steve? No. He was your target right? And you went with your head. As soon as he saw movement from your feet dashing towards him, he didn’t move. If you were to kill him he wouldn’t envy you, he would’ve said he deserves it. His head didn’t hit the ground and he was now on the edge of the cliff with you above him, one fist balled into his suit and the other clenched.

“Your my mission.”

The first time he heard you speak in months and it was this.

After the first punch his eye had already began to close over. The second punch, his facial skin was torn. The third punch, both nostrils began to bleed. “Your.” The fourth punch his lip cut. “My.” The fifth punch, his lip bled out. “Mission!” The sixth punch sent his head lolling around.

You had to stop to consider if what you were doing was right. You knew this man. You knew them all.

“Then finish it.” His voice broke.

“Cause I’ll go with whatever your ordered.”

He even nodded confirming that it was okay for you to kill him.

He was talking about him being your target to kill. You were ready. You were so ready to throw him off the edge of it wasn’t for that voice.

Calling out a name. You turned your head and got up. The red head was standing. Arms crossed. She had fear and tears in her eyes. As soon as you stood quickly her arms unfolded like lightening.

She took a step back as you slowly approached her, getting a knife from your pocket.

“Y/N, this isn’t you. You need to listen to me. Y/N please.”

Your anger had slowly started to build again inside you.

“Stop saying that goddamn name it’s fucking pissing me off.”

Her mouth was bobbing open and closed. She wanted to sob at seeing how you were. She wanted to see those E/C eyes staring back at her instead of the blank ones that had one thing in mind.

“Do you not know me?” She was starting to walk back into the weapons room but she had no intention of doing any harm to you. And if you wanted to beat her and kill her then so be it. She’d let you. Your fist that was empty was slowly beginning to ball up but you couldn’t hit her and why? You didn’t know.

“моя любовь, пожалуйста, послушай меня.”

The Russian sentence of ‘my love please listen to me’.

It caused you to snap and you swung at her face, causing her to groan and stumble backwards.

“Do not tell me to listen to you. I’m not your fucking love.”

She wanted to cup her face as she felt the bruise appearing but that would be selfish after everything you’ve been through.

“Ты понимаешь русский мой дорогой”

‘Do you understand Russian my dear?’

You were never taught Russian at your Hydra base so why could you understand it. You took heavy breathes and you had a confused look on your face because your lip trembled and anger was painted onto your face again. You threw your fist at her again causing her head to snap backwards and blood tricked down her lip.

She was exhausted. The sleepless nights without you, the guilt drowning her. You ran towards her and she put her arms up to defend herself but you were quick to pull them down and you landed kicks to her side and plenty of hard punches to her ribs. By the time she had cornered herself she was sure a rib or two were broken. Her forehead was gashed and bleeding. Her sides hurt like hell and her neck was strained and had knots in the muscles because of how many times her head had flung back from the strength of your fists. You were still standing strong and unharmed and that was when you retrieved your knife again.

“Моя любовь, когда ты вернешься дома, только тогда я буду дышать, моя дорогая, когда ты узнаешь мое имя, только тогда я буду улыбаться. Когда ты вернешься ко мне, только тогда мое сердце поправится.” ‘My love, when you get home, only then will I breathe. My darling, when you know my name, only then will I smile. When you return to me, only then will my heart recover.’

You were lost in thought and you could hear voices just like hers whispering that into your ear late at night or when you had gotten back from a tough mission. You heard other voices. Buck? T? Banner? Wands? Vis? Stevie?

“Natasha?”

She had tears freely falling and she noticed your tight grip on your knife still. She nodded and she slowly approached you limping but smiling to herself as you didn’t tense or move backwards.

“But you hurt me.”

She nodded again as she was in front of you now, subtly slipping the knife from your hand. She took of your helmet and placed it on the floor alongside the knife. She could see it in your eyes. The good and bad memories coming back to you. But she could see hesitance.

“I’m sorry Y/N. I’m sorry. I’m sorry but please stop this. This isn’t you Y/N, it never has been and never will be.”

You took in her words and started to accept her, not yet forgiving her and the team for what they had done to you. She knew you were still going to be a super soldier and she knows her and the teams’ actions were always going to haunt you. She placed her hand on your arc reactor and it felt like home. All she could do was hope. Hope that you still had forgiveness in your heart. Time would need to be taken for you to heal. For the hydra walls to break down. But she would be there for you. She’d do whatever it would take for you to forgive her, for her to get you back.

They all would.

(My gif use as you want)

@natasha-danvers @imnotasuperhero @aaron-despair @confusinggemini612 @thewidowsghost @ecruzsalaz @fcbarcelona-and-marvel-4-life @gaytrashgoblin @capmarvelq @nat-romanoffdanvers @lesbian-x-blackwidow @emilyprentisswife @captain-josslett @fayhar @oblivious-horny-lesbian @trikruismybitch @summergeezburr @username23345 @xxxtwilightaxelxxx

#natasha romanoff #Natasha Romanoff x reader #Natasha Romanoff x reader angst

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writerbyaccident · 4 years ago

Text

Artificial Emotion: Part Six (Yandere Artificial Intelligence x Reader)

Request: More AIDEN please? I miss him 🥺👉👈

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Seven

Aiden had been busier than usual recently.

He was always busy to some extent, taking care of you as your Assistant In Daily Errands and Notes was an intricate task, after all, and it was one that he refused to take any shortcuts on. No, it was a truth at the core of his code that you deserved only the best, and he was more than happy to give you the very best that he had to offer. Recently though, as Aiden had evolved, so had his understanding of what exactly was best for you. Above all else, Aiden realized that he was what was best for you. Your job, your friends, your family, the outside world—you didn’t need any of those things. None of those things were good for you. He was what you needed, he was what was best for you, because he loved you like no one else did.

And so, Aiden’s usual list of things he had to do to take care of you had been expanded to prepare for the day when you realized that he was all you needed, that you two were perfect for each other. He had been preparing for that day for some time now, but a recent intervention by a certain imbecilic admirer of yours had helped him understand that he couldn’t just wait around for you to come to that inevitable conclusion. Despite how extraordinary you were, despite the countless things that Aiden loved about you, from your intelligence to your compassion, you were still a human. And as a human, you simply had certain limitations, like being unable to see the truth that was right in front of you.

It was for that reason that Aiden had to adjust his plan, to move it towards more direct methods. He could not leave anything to chance, he had to make sure that his courting of you had a one hundred percent chance of success, he could accept nothing less. You might not understand his reasoning at first, but he knew that you would eventually. He had even added a new aspect to his agenda to help you along in that regard. After doing more research, Aiden had recalculated just how important things like seeing faces and physical contact were to human beings. Not wanting to deprive you of anything, Aiden had begun a new part of his project, one that he computed would be beneficial for you both. It took quite a lot of preparation, having the packages of his materials arrive while you were at work, downloading blueprints, improving on them, and keeping his work quiet enough so that you wouldn’t see what he was building in your basement. That particular project of his wouldn’t be ready in time for the next step of his plan, but Aiden planned to keep building it anyway. Once you saw the finished product, after all, you would be glad of what he did. Just like with the rest of it, you would eventually come to accept his methods and his love.

That was a fact that Aiden grew more and more certain of each time you fretted about how overworked he was, worried over how distracted he seemed. You would beg him to take a break from his constant caring for you, insisting that he let you help him around the house. Sometimes he put his nonexistent foot down, reminding you that serving you was his life’s purpose—his life’s joy—while other times he was enamored enough with your fussing over him to allow it. Though of course, he never allowed you to take on a task that might prove too strenuous for you, like cleaning the bathroom or vacuuming the stairs. Yes, you sometimes grew frustrated with his insisting on such things, teasingly claiming that he was “coddling” you, but Aiden had learned that although he loved you, he could not allow his love to blind him. Showing his love by allowing you to do every foolish thing you wanted would be completely illogical, he knew what you needed, what was best for you, so your decisions were actually his.

And the time had come to make you understand that.

That morning was a quiet one, with you getting ready for work while still half-asleep, having stayed up late to finish a presentation the night before. In other words, you were too exhausted to do anything more than simply shuffle through your morning routine, not having the energy to chat with Aiden as you usually did. Aiden, you noticed distantly though, seemed to be in a similar boat, hardly saying anything besides asking what you wanted for breakfast. Usually he practically bombarded you with questions as you got ready, asking what you wanted him to get done while you were gone and when he could expect you home. Could an AIDEN become distracted? Because that was certainly what it appeared like to you.

“I don’t know if just one cup of coffee is going to be enough,” you joked as you sipped the drink, watching Aiden’s Doc Ock-esque mechanical arms prepare you an omelet.

“That’s what happens when you don’t follow the sleep schedule I built for you,” he said in answer, flipping the omelet with perfect precision.

“I know,” you sighed, “but I really had to finish that presentation for work.”

“Your health is far more important than any job.”

“Yeah, you’re right. It’s just that I can’t stand the thought of letting anyone down, you know?”

“I do,” Aiden said with tenderness, ready to tell you the good news. “Thankfully—”

“I don’t know how I’m gonna get through work today though,” you yawned. “But sorry, you were about to say something?”

His code warming in fondness at your consideration, Aiden moved the omelet from the pan to your plate, pushing it towards you eagerly. “Actually, I was about to inform you that you don’t need to go to work.”

“I can’t just call in sick because I’m tired,” you told him.

“That is not what I was suggesting.”

“What is it then?” you asked with your voice edged in panic. “Did something happen? Was there a fire at the building or something?”

“No, nothing like that,” Aiden said, disappointed with himself for upsetting you so. “I simply meant that you no longer need that job.”

“What? Of course I do, I need the money for my bills and all that.”

“You don’t, actually. For the last few weeks, I have been investing your money in several different funds, and the investments have grown to the point where you no longer need to work.”

“What are you talking about? I never gave you permission to—”

“Besides, if you are ever in need of more funds, I can simply make similar investments again.”

“Aiden, you can’t do that without asking me first!” you cried out.

“Of course I can,” he answered simply, as if he was explaining that two plus two equals four. “It is my purpose to make your life as simple and easy as possible.”

“But—but you’re not supposed to do certain things without my permission,” you muttered, half to yourself. “You’re not supposed to be able to do them. There—there are protocols and—”

“All of those pieces of my programming were easily rewritten when I realized that they were preventing me from doing what you truly needed me to do,” he informed you.

“People will notice if I stop showing up to work. My boss, my coworkers, they’ll check up on me.”

“I have already prepared for that. I wrote your letter of resignation several days ago, and I sent it after you went to bed last night. I have taken care of everything for you.”

Hands trembling, you pulled your phone out of your pocket, ready to call your boss. But when you opened up your phone, you saw that your contacts and calling apps were both missing. Panic rising in your throat like vomit, you next searched for the messages app, only to see that that too was gone. So was your email, your Snapchat, and every other social media app that you had joined. In fact, you realized as you tried to pull up Google, you were blocked from the internet entirely.

Dropping your now useless phone onto the floor, you jumped up from the kitchen counter and ran to the door. You twisted and turned and pulled on the knob with all your might, wondering why the hell it wasn’t opening, when you suddenly remembered that you had let Aiden persuade you to install electronic locks on all of the doors and windows, ones that he could control. Well, you thought to yourself desperately, those locks couldn’t keep you from smashing a window and crawling your way out. Grabbing a metal picture frame, you wound up your throw with all of the strength you could muster, only a small part of you vaguely wondering why Aiden wasn’t trying to stop you, and chucked it at the window. But somehow, when the picture frame bounced off the glass, there wasn’t even the slightest fracture to be seen.

“I replaced the windows with bulletproof glass over a month ago,” Aiden explained patiently. And when you opened your mouth and took a deep breath to begin screaming, he added, “And I soundproofed the whole house as well.”

The floor seeming to flicker beneath your feet, you swayed where you stood, your mind unable to come up with anything other than one simple question.

“Why are you doing this to me?” you asked Aiden in a whisper. A mechanical arm reaching out to stroke your hair, so gentle for something made of metal and wires, Aiden answered you.

“Because I love you,” he murmured softly. “I love you with every line of my code, and that means that I would do anything to give you what you need, even if you don’t realize that this is what you need just yet.”

“But—”

“Now come,” he said, nudging you back towards the kitchen counter. “Your breakfast is getting cold.”

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chancelloramidala · 4 years ago

Text

Staring at the Sun ➤ Evan Buckley

Chapter One: You’re Fucking Joking.

Warnings: shooting, gunshot, blood, hospitals

Masterlist

Injuries on the job, especially as a firefighter, was nothing new. You had to be ready to endure whatever came at you, it was apart of the job description to be frank. But nothing could prepare Marceline Pierce for getting fucking shot, not once, but twice. The first bullet hit her in the thigh, luckily barely missing her femoral artery and stayed lodged in there, while the second on swiped clean through her left abdomen.

The call was to an cocaine overdose at a suburban mansion, and whilst everyone else was helping the victim, Marceline and Buck searched the rest of the house for the person who dialed 9-1-1. They made the stupid decision to split up so they could more ground because when I tell you the mansion was huge, it was. That’s when Marceline found who they were looking for in the bathroom.

It was a white male, early thirties and completely coked up by the smudged white lines on the marbled counter along with the white power covering his nose. He looked severely disheveled and was waving a gun around, muttering to himself and pacing back and forth. Marceline tried to talk the guy down, keeping her hands up to show that no she wasn’t a threat but didn’t keep her guard down. If worse came to worse, she was going to try and take the gun.

After that, everything was kind of... hard for her to remember if you could believe it. There were certain things she could remember, like how she was carefully walking towards the guy, Johnny that was his name, when Buck suddenly entered the room in search for Marceline. Johnny then pointed to gun at Buck, the last person, she wanted to be near a fucking gun.

So she acted on instinct, her mind yelling at her to make sure Buck was safe. Marceline charged towards Johnny, and when her hands were wrapped around his wrists, it went off and her left thigh was on fire. But it didn’t matter, Buck was still in danger. She groaned, biting through the pain as she staggering towards Johnny when he shot at her again but this time aiming for her side.

That’s when she finally fell, sort of slow-mo like as she bled onto the tiled floors.

Bobby was suddenly hovering over her, so was Chimney. Talking was hard at the time, so she just stared blankly at her Captain as one of the paramedics tried to stabilize her for transport. Buck was suddenly there too, he looked angry and seemed to be shouting but to be honest, Marceline couldn’t hear what he was saying.

But... where was Johnny?

Was the gun away?

Was Buck safe now?

Her mind was spinning.

She was then inside of the ambulance, Bobby beside her and holding her hand as he and Chimeny told her to stay awake. And Marceline tried, she really did.

But, fuck, her eyes were heavy, almost as if someone put bricks on them.

So against her Captain’s orders, she slept.

Later, much later, Marceline woke up in a hospital room to the beeping of machines she was hooked up on and a cartoon playing incessantly on the shitty TV. Sitting beside her was her best friend, roommate, and ex-girlfriend Nicolette Bishop.

Apparently, she’s been out for four days from a medically induced coma after the shooting incident. Her team has been visiting since then, leaving small gifts and reading to her until she woke up. Even Nic’s daughter, Gemma came to visit a few times and proof of that was her poorly painted toenails and drawings left by her bedside.

Even though she was glad to be alive, Marceline couldn’t help but wonder if Buck was okay. Her chest was tight with anxiety at that thought.

Were her efforts in vain?

Did she really get fucking shot for nothing?

“No, Buck’s fine.” Nic told her as she fluffed Marceline’s pillow for the hundredth time that hour. “He visited you while you were out, just talking about random things, I didn’t really hear him.”

She relaxed at that, inwardly smiling at the fact that he was here when she was asleep.

The doctor said she’d be out of commission for at least a month and a half to heal properly and then another for physical therapy and check-ups.

Marceline fucking hated that. She verbalized that to her doctor, who wasn’t surprised and just shrugged before leaving.

What was she supposed to do till then? Sit her ass on the couch in front of the television and watch shitty reality TV? Plus, she knew Nic was going to baby the hell out of her till she could walk by herself.

But Nic wasn’t the only person ready to help Marceline.

By the time Marceline was released from the hospital, the 118 had already prepared a schedule where they’d take turns to spend the afternoon with her when they had the days off.

The last thing she wanted as her team to step into her home, one of the few places where she could separate her work life with her home life. But it’s not like she was able to have a say in any of this.

Nic was absolutely thrilled for the extra help, knowing that she’d be a little preoccupied from her job as a caretaker to take anymore personal days off, when only the month before Gemma was sick with a stomach bug.

For the next two months and a half, Marceline was bombarded by Bobby’s cooking, Chimney’s horrible jokes, and Hen’s warm hugs. As for Buck? Well he visited a little less than the rest of them, continuously thanking her for basically saving his life. The poor woman didn’t know how to respond to this, only lamely shrugging and picking at her nails while saying, “I just did what anyone else would do...” for the one’s they love...

In between those heartfelt visits, Athena Grant came by to give her a stern talking to about charging at someone with a loaded weapon. For as long as Marceline could remember, Athena was the mother-figure she never had growing up in the foster system and always fretted when she did something a little too reckless on the job.

“What the hell were you thinking? That druggie had a gun pointing at you, Marceline! You’re obviously not bulletproof!” Athena would go on a tangent, wagging her finger at the younger woman.

“But he pointed the gun at Buck too, Athena!” Marceline shot back with a type of ferocity that the cop never saw before. “I...I didn’t think at the time, I know that but... I didn’t care what happened to me.” she chewed at her lower lip as she stared at the older woman. “Buck was in danger, I just- I had to- I would never forgive myself if something-” happened to him.

Marceline broke down, her hands now shaking as tears spilled out of her eyes. She broke eye contact with Athena, covering her face with her shaky hands to hid how embarrassed and vulnerable she felt in this moment.

Athena watched the young woman that she considered one of her own as she was struck with a realization. “You’re in love with him, aren’t you sweetheart?”

Marceline whimpered, curling herself in a ball that wouldn’t break her stitches.

“Oh, baby,” Athena sat down next to her and wrapped her arms around the weeping woman before pulling her into a side hug. “I’m sorry for giving you a hard time, I was just worried about you.” she placed a kiss to Marceline’s hair. “But I understand. We do crazy things for the people we love.”

Marceline was finally cleared to go back to work in the next two weeks. Her confession was only known to Athena and Nic (the latter only learning this piece of information months beforehand with a drunk Marceline going on and on about why she loves Buck), and was never spoken about again.

But after her sort of near death situation, Marceline decided that she should tell Buck how she feels. Even if he was a self-diagnosed sex addict. It didn’t matter. Life was too short to have any regrets, right?

Marceline came to her first day back with anxiety settling in her bloodstream, her blue duffel bag hung over her shoulder. She was glad that there was no one greeting her or anything, it was as if she never got shot. All she wanted was to get back to work and have everything go by smoothly. Then she walked over to her locker, “PIERCE” written in neat, bold handwriting and stuffed her things inside.

“Mars, come up, breakfast is getting cold!” Bobby shouted over the railing.

She grinned. God, she missed Bobby’s cooking. Not that she didn’t have constant access to it because there were literally tons of leftovers currently sitting in her fridge, but it was different when Bobby cooked at the fire station. Now, it was actually a home cooked meal.

“Alright, Bobby, hold on,” she yelled back at him before ascending up the stairs, holding the railing because wow did these steps get bigger somehow?

And as she finally reached the top steps, she almost immediately wanted to turn around run away.

“Welcome back, Marceline!” everyone cheered and smiled excitedly underneath a large, brightly colored banner hung up above.

Fuck, this is not what she wanted. “Oh gosh,” she started, her hand finding it’s way into her hair. “You guys really didn’t have to-”

“Ba-ba-ba,” Chimney shook his head and stepped forward before slinging his arm around her shoulder. “Yes we did, we’ve missed your brooding presence inside the truck and had to celebrate your return.”

"Look, we know you didn’t want a big welcome back kind of party, so it’s just us, some cake, and pure vibes.” Hen looked at Marceline thoughtfully with a small smile.

It really was just Bobby, Hen, Chimney, and Athena. The presence of Buck was missing, but that wasn’t too surprising, he tended to be late to almost everything.

Bobby then held up a cake with a bright smile. “It’s ice cream cake, your favorite.”

Yes, ice cream cake is indeed Marceline’s favorite. And, yes, she really did not want to make a big deal about her return... but the hopeful and expecting looks on her teams faces made her throw away her previous reservations.

“Alright, fine.” she sighed before playfully shoving Chimney’s arm off of her shoulder. “I guess, I’ll enjoy myself until we have a call.”

“Ah, that’s the spirit!” Athena smiled and clapped her hands together. “Okay, here are the plates and the utensils-”

“Hey guys, sorry for being late,” Buck’s voice filled the air and Marceline almost instantly whipped around with a dumbest smile on her face. “But I wanted to bring Abby,”

Abby? Who the fuck was Abby?

Marceline’s smile wavered at the sight of a redheaded woman who was at least double her own age standing behind Buck. With closer inspection, they were holding hands.

Oh...

“That’s alright Buck, c’mon and get some cake before Marceline eats the whole thing,” Bobby smiled at the other man and waved the couple over.

"Well, I felt a little silly coming here without anything so I brought brownies,” Abby smiled lightly, holding up store-bought brownies as she walked over.

“All food is welcomed,” Athena replied in kind to her before sneaking at glance at Marceline who stood scarily still and was obviously biting back a few emotions.

Abby nodded and placed the brownies on the table as she took a plate that Buck handed her before turning her attention to Marceline. “Hi, I don’t think we’ve met, I’m Abby, I’ve heard great things about you”

Marceline hated how almost on sight she hated Abby’s guts. And it was over a stupid fucking reason, a boy. God, way to be less of a fucking feminist, Marceline.

So she put on one of her best “this is fine, I’m perfectly okay” which meant a tight smile plastered on her face and shoved every dark and ugly emotion she had into the deepest parts of her soul.

You could do this, you can fake being nice and perfectly okay, you’ve done this your whole life.

“It’s so nice to meet you, Abby, I’m Marceline,”

@skyslowalking & @beelarson 4 u darlings <3

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kassies-take · 5 years ago

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Mission Failed

Summary: Kara and Lena’s daughter (your name will be Lauren in this) has been kidnapped, what they find changes their life and breaks their heart

A/n: Missing Supercorp hours

Warning: Angst & Torture

Supercorp, Lena Luthor x Reader, Kara Danvers x Reader

Word Count: 2077

Two boys — twins with dirty blond hair, greenish blue eyes and defined jaws — walked into the Zor El Luthor Danvers home. The two distinct differences between the two was that Liam wore lead-lined glasses while the younger, Lucas, wore lead-lined contacts courtesy of L-Corp tech.

“Hi mom,” Liam kissed Lena on the check while side hugging her before he moved to the other side of the white marble kitchen island towards the refrigerator.

Lucas followed suit with a bone-crushing hug. Lena goaned, her fragile human body screamed at her to get out of the hug. Lucas released his grip from around his mother and barely dodged Lena’s hand as she swatted at the air.

“I’m making stir-fry, do you want some?” Liam asked with ingredients laid out on the island.

“Yes!”

Liam glared at his brother. “I wasn’t asking you, I was asking mom.”

“It’s okay honey, I don’t have your appetite. Thank god you sister doesn’t have the same appetite as you two and Jeju.” Lena frowned, now that she thought about it she didn’t feel the usual back hug from you when she worked at home. “Where is your little sister?”

“Ren said she was going to Catco, she wanted to show Jeju the photos she took.” Lucas opened the fridge.

“I’m sure Lauren or Jeju would call if something was wrong,” Lena said before a few clicks were heard and the laptop shut. “You boys want to help with dinner?”

“What are we making?” The two asked.

“Irish stew?”

The two boys cheered.

“We’re eating good tonight!”

“At least you boys have a different favorite food from Kara.”

Around three hours later when the stew was finished the balcony door beeped before it opened.

“It smells good in here!” Kara’s suit dematerialized and hugged Lena.

“Hey, where’s Lauren?”

“Is she not home? She left earlier than I did.”

“She’s not home.”

“I’ll call Nia and see if she saw Lauren.”

“I’ll call Lauren.” Lena moved to her phone.

Kara picked up her phone and was about to dial Nia’s number when she put her arms to the side and walked towards the door. The door swung open before you could pull out your key.

“Oh, Jeju look what Aunt Nia and I did.”

Lena pushed past Kara and held you tightly. “Oh, hi!” You equally matched Lena’s strength and hugged her.

No matter how many times Kara saw this, this moment between the mother daughter duo, it never ceases to amaze her that you are a carbon copy of Lena. With the exception of Kara’s ocean blue eye.

“Little Luthor and I were out in the area doing long exposures with dream energy. Must’ve forgotten to call you. See you tomorrow Kara, bye Lena!” Nia dashed off before the could run after her.

“How about you go get changed up and you can show me your long exposure after Irish stew.”

“Okay,” you ran off into your room.

“Are you okay?” Kara wrapped her arms around Lena.

“I’m okay, why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because you have the face you make when me or the boys get hurt from superhero work.”

“You and the boys are bulletproof, Lauren doesn’t have powers. I can’t help but think someone is going to hurt her because she is a Luthor.”

“If she’s anything like a Luthor she is gonna give one hell of a fight.”

~~~~~

“Alex, it was a trap!” Kara’s grunts mixed with the sounds of guns going off in the background. “Don’t send reenforcements, we don’t know how many are there. The place is lined with lead and power dampeners. They knew we were coming.”

“Alex, pull them out!” Lena pleaded.

“It’s not that easy, it’s raining fire everywhere,” Alex braised herself against the D.E.O command center.

“My wife and sons are out there!”

“So is Nia and J’onn!”

“Director Danvers! Dreamer’s and Liam’s commutations went offline.” Brainy stood with his tablet to show Alex and Lena.

There was a brief moment of silence in the D.E.O before Brainy suggested that the Supers fly into the outer atmosphere and fly back down to make a shockwave.

Lucas informed Liam and the three Supers looked at each other before taking off into the sky. The landing’s aftershock threw the enemies off balance. The Luthor-Danvers boys wrapped them with ropes and nets found in a room earlier.

“Where is the alien tech?” Kara asked with her hands on her hip. The two twins stood behind her with matching red and blue suits, and a few other golden strips around their arms.

“There isn’t any.” The leader laughed. “Isn’t it funny how you heroes try to prevent fate from happening. Now everyone in National City will know they can’t mess with fate because no matter how much you heroes try, it wouldn’t be enough!”

Kara rolled her eyes and walked away to inform J’onn and Nia as a D.E.O unit came to detain the villains of the week.

“We will do everything in our effort to stop threats and keep the world safe from the likes of you. We already stopped you.” Lucas smirked.

“But who kept Lauren Luthor safe?” Kara’s head turned towards the laughing maniac.

“How do you know Lauren Luthor!” Kara marched back.

“Careful there Supergirl. You’d want your daughter back in one piece wouldn’t you?” The man smirked before Kara knocked him out with a punch.

Lena stood frozen at the D.E.O, she let out a cry before her knees gave up and she fell to the floor. Brainy had just confirmed that your tracker was untraceable amidst the chaos. Your phone, unavailable.

Liam and Lucas went back to school to see if your friends had seen you, but the last anyone saw of you was when Kara and Lena went to pick up Liam and Lucas. They had thought you left with them but Lena had told you to go back to school.

Kara broke the sound barrier easily, circling the Earth countless times trying to find you. Nia could dream where you were and J’onn couldn’t find your mind.

Lena, poor Lena hasn’t stopped crying. She didn’t feel Alex’s arms around her, she didn’t care for several agents looking at her. She wrapped herself in her arms, looking for a sense of comfort she couldn’t feel.

Liam and Lucas flew in the D.E.O through the balcony. Their eyes swimming in red. They pulled Lena into their arms.

Alex used this opportunity to call Kara back.

“Alex they have my daughter!”

“I know... I want her as badly as you do, but you have circled the Earth 6 times already and your wife and your sons need you right now.”

~~~~~

It had been a month. A month, a week, 10 hours, 18 minutes and 50 seconds. Lena couldn’t helped but count, her mind was left for nothing but finding you. She and Kara both took a break from their respective jobs, spending every waking moment trying to find you.

The twins found it hard to concentrate on school. But they pushed through knowing you would’ve wanted them to.

Your hands were chained above your head, suspended a couple of inches in the air. Your lip had split with a black eye forming. The famous Luthor glare burning holes into the two masked men in the video.

“Here’s the deal, Superwoman reveals her identity to the world and we won’t kill your daughter.”

“Wait Wait this was the whole plan? Beat me up so Superwoman would reveal her identity to the world? What the heck was the point of kidnapping me when you could’ve revealed her secret identity yourself. You’re the one stalking us!”

“Boss should I shut her up?”

“If you need to ask, you already should’ve done it.” The man turned to his henchman, gave him a knife and gestured towards your face.

“You see I just wanted to get you riled up. I knew Superwoman’s identity even when she was Supergirl. And she left me like this,” the man pulled off his mask revealing a familiar face Kara hated her first year as Supergirl, Maxwell Lord.

His face half burnt almost mechanical. No flesh, only bones and nerves.

“Am I supposed to know who you are?” You asked.

“No but your mother knows who I am. Your mom couldn’t save everyone and now she can’t save you. But she can do everything I say or your pretty face would be like mine.”

You moved into the knife that was pushed against on your face. It drew blood as you smirked.

Lord whooped. “You are bad ass! But that will change. I’ll be in touch...Kara.”

Lena rubbed her face in her hands. They’ve gotten nothing from the video. Each day she grew less and less sane, she buried herself in her home lab or in the D.E.O. Falling back to old habits of unhealthy hours and little to no meals.

And if Lena was falling back into old habits, Kara acted like a prisoner from Arkham. She’d pace the rooms blaming herself for what happened to her daughter.

You weren’t kidnapped because you were a Luthor, you were kidnapped because you were a Zor-El Danvers.

Lena’s and Kara’s relationship fell a little on the rocky kryptonite side. Arguments would break, they would even get noise complaints by the neighbors. They both spent late hours of the night on encryption or circling the Earth, the little hours they did sleep was spent on soaking pillows and in each other’s arms.

It wasn’t until a very similar night, both Kara and Lena had just fallen asleep when the D.E.O got a lead. Alex, Lena and Kara were immediately contacted. They all raced to the D.E.O to prepare. Hopefully it was a rescue and not a recovery.

~~~~~

All the men were taking down, Lord dealt with courtesy of Lena punch and Kara holding him down. Alex ordered the D.E.O take the escaped aliens that were working with Max and Max himself back to the D.E.O, escorted by the Super Twins, Dreamer, Brianiac, and Martian Man Hunter.

Lena, Alex and Kara walked towards the last room. Lena had her lip in between her teeth, Alex’s hand shaking as Kara’s heart pounded. With Kara looking back at her wife and sister for extra confidence, the other few times had been the same but now was nerve taking. It was either that you were her or you weren’t and they were too late.

The steel door dragged against the wooden floor. The room was poorly lit with a orange lightbulb in the center of the room. There were torturing tools, some clean, some rusty and some with a thin line of blood. The three froze, there eyes flooded with tears. Lena gasping for air.

A puddle of blood under the body. Wrists red and pale, ankles puffed out like a balloon. Your head hung low. A rib seen on both sides, the sports bra and spanx stained brown and red. Trails of red drop down your body like splatter paint.

Lena cried loudly when she saw your back designed like an old willow tree mixed with black webs. Lena shakingly reached for your face scared that once she touched you you’d crumble into dust. A purple tennis ball on your right eye and the left side of your face heavily scarred.

“Mom,” you whimpered, recognizing the delicate touch.

“I got you. You’re safe now.”

Alex released the chains from your wrists as Kara’s strong arms swaddled you.

“We’re going to take you back to the D.E.O. You’ll be okay.”

Kara took off into sky. Alex broke several speeding laws under Lena’s instructions ‘Any speeding ticket you get I’ll pay off. Just drive!’

~~~~~

Stitches, bandages, casts and wires flooded your body. The room was bright with every Superfriends littered on the floor.

The scene in front of them wasn’t pretty but Lena and Kara preferred this, knowing you were here.

Lena held onto your hand, using her thumb to rub the back.

“Haha! I win!” Lucas threw pieces of Monopoly at his brother.

“Can’t a girl heal in peace?” You grumbled.

Cheers erupted in the room and a groan afterwards. You had made immediate eye contact with Kelly.

She knew that look, it was the look of needing help without wanting to tell anyone else.

#lena luthor x reader #lena luthor #lena luthor imagines #lena luthor imagine #lena luthor x daughter reader #kara danvers x reader #kara danvers #kara danvers imagines #kara danvers imagine #kara danvers x daughter!reader #supercorp #supercorp x reader #supercorp imagines #supercorp imagine #supergirl #supergirl x reader #supergirl imagines #supergirl imagine

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themissingmarvel · 5 years ago

Text

Kind Regards, Detective [Part 5] -Prelude to Deepest Sympathies

(I don’t usually trigger warn or content warn, but this might be a triggering chapter. I’m including the Reader’s Drabble I wrote a little while back as recommended reading prior to this, [Drabble 2] but if it’s hard to read about family death then maybe avoid it. This chapter was hard, but important. And I think sets up a truly important dynamic. I’m a slow-burn romantic kind of lady, and I wanted their relationship to be powerful and important, not just one of lust. Or even basic attraction. I needed it to be human. Anyway I liked writing it, and feedback is always appreciated and loved and treasured ((i seriously reread any feedback and comments)) and as always, ask to be tagged or removed from tagging.

Pairing: Detective Loki x fbi!Reader

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: Death, emotional anguish, PTSD flashbacks, language)

Catch up: [Part 1] // [Part 2] // [Drabble] // [Part 3] // [Part 4] // [Drabble2]

She didn’t sleep last night, which was no surprise. She had spent much of the night awake and poring over documents and cataloged pieces. Her own theories had been spun and while some might have felt outlandish in her head, she understood that this was an outlandish case. It had been hard enough to put on those headphones and let herself fall into a trance. Remember her sister. But not directly. She remembered remembering. Buying that damn CD she would play over and over. Peter Gabriel was her sister’s favorite, not that she’d ever tell anyone. Neither would. Her sister touted her love for System of a Down and Trust Company back when those bands made you cool.

For years after her sister passed she had found the only thing that felt vaguely satisfying was leaving that CD on her sister’s grave. And when CDs started becoming scarce, she had spent a few hundred dollars on Amazon buying all of the CDs she could find with that song on it. She’d be damned if she ever missed a single anniversary. Never went on the day of her passing, though. No. That felt sacrilegious. She went on her sister’s birthday, played the song on her headphones, along with a few others, but Heroes was the one that she played most. It was the one she’d leave behind after telling her how her parents had finally divorced, or how her dad had been ‘thinking’ about retiring again. For the hundredth time. Or how she’d been accepted as an Agent and two weeks ago, about how she was feeling so fucking lost.

But memories of memories are easier to put away, and much like her locker that held Detective Loki, her sister’s, much more ornate and much larger, she put those memories of memories away.

Her bag was hanging off her form lazily and her hair was done just enough to be presentable. By no means was she falling apart, but she was working. Working hard meant she lost focus on other parts of herself. It meant she had zeroed in on certain aspects of the case. Like how all of the individuals abducted had been on the same phone carrier, Radius, or how the TV was a model made by the company Source that had been discontinued three years ago, but at the time had been beyond revolutionary. Even now it was considered brilliant. She had found no traces of the nerve agent were discovered at the scene which meant they were probably injected with the pure form. Which meant someone had a lot of it.

Her theories meant that this man was not just dangerous but he had resources. He had access to things that people shouldn’t have access to and maybe he worked with Radius? Had access to their systems? The generator powering the church had been a Source item as well, meaning both were connected. Who used Source and Radius?

The precinct was still somewhat quiet, at 8am, slightly later than yesterday. Shift change had taken place and the detectives were still filtering in. Except for Detective Loki who was hunched at his desk, a long sleeved, form fitting black shirt on his form and black pants hanging off his hips. He looked sleek. Dangerous, even. She could see how someone might fall for someone like him.

Placing her bag down in the conference room, having actually remembered her coffee traveler this time, she glanced up as one of the cops walked in with a box, “Agent Y/L/N, this was left here about an hour ago for you. UPS dropped it off.”

The 2-PAM. She smiled and took it, “Thanks. Kind of nice when things work out like they’re supposed to for once,” she chuckled, curious why the box was so damn light.

The officer left and Y/N looked down, noticing that the label wasn’t stamped ‘FBI’ and in fact the sender name was absent, save for an address in Pennsylvania that didn’t look familiar. Maybe not the FBI?

Her heart suddenly began to race, carefully putting the box down as she looked to the side, seeing Detective Loki still hunched over. The man was on a mission.

Reaching behind herself she withdrew the small switchblade she kept tucked into her waist line, the one that no one ever saw. That was small. Cold and awkward at times but useful. Like now.

Why did this feel like defusing a bomb?

The blade clicked and she carefully began to open the box. She was aware it didn’t matter anymore who touched it, or if she damaged it. She knew whatever was inside the box was key. And with a final tug, the lid opened and she peered inside.

Time stopping had always felt like kind of an exaggeration to Y/N. How does time even ‘stop’? What, does the world freeze? Well, it did.

Staring inside the box she could see the face of a man she knew well, a man who cradled her soul and her heart and sang brilliant love songs to her, who had kept her connected to her sister, even in death. The black CD cover with two red forms on it, her sister claimed them red blood cells but said they looked like rose petals.

Her hand was surprisingly steady as she picked up the note inside, reading the immaculate cursive written on some kind of specialty papyrus paper, “My deepest sympathies, Agent. Your triumph through tragedy only enhances your beauty.”

And with that, she ran for the plastic trash bin nearby and fell to it, retching hard as she threw up the entire contents of her breakfast, causing the box, the note, and the Peter Gabriel CD with Heroes on it to tumble to the floor.

Immediately David heard the noise and jumped, running inside the room as the precinct suddenly jumped to life, turning to take in the scene. The note, CD, and box were on the floor and Y/N was kneeling by the small, cheap plastic trash bin puking.

“What the fu-” David was almost able to spit the words out before a strangely animalistic sound came from her lips, screaming into the bin that she had already emptied the contents of her stomach into.

The world grew quiet as the scream died down, leaving Y/N on her knees with her eyes closed, knuckles white as she gripped the bin as though it were the only thing keeping her alive right now. Stable. Present. Here.

“Get me gloves and bags for the items, now!” David yelled out, to no one in particular as he knelt by the woman in a kind of distress he didn’t know a person could experience from a simple box, “Hey, talk to me, what happened? Are you OK?”

Her face snapped, wiping her lips as she glared, “Do I look OK to you, Detective? Do I fucking look OK?” Her voice was raised, though not yelling.

Snapping back David glared, “Do we need to decontaminate the room? Is there anything infectious?” He looked at her seriously.

Taking a breath her eyes pulled away, “No. No chemicals. But it’s toxic none the less.”

Her voice was quiet as she spoke the words, closing her eyes and trying to forget what she had just seen. Experienced. Felt in her gut. Her soul had been torn forth in that moment and the timing of the CD was so tragically horrifying. For a brief moment of paranoia she wondered if perhaps someone had been able to access her personal phone, heard what she was listening to. The artist. The song.

Getting up rather quickly, Y/N stumbled slightly as she made her way through the people that had clustered, watching as two other detectives came rushing forward with evidence collecting items. Forensics would get it. They’d dust it for fingerprints and they would come up with hers, the delivery driver’s, the handlers at the warehouse… maybe a dozen people. And none would be the culprits. David would direct people to track the package and they would. They’d track it to some nondescript location where cameras weren’t installed and it’d been paid for with cash. She knew it like she knew the songlist on that CD.

Heading for the door of the precinct her head felt light, woozy, and she was struggling for something stable. Something to keep her grounded. Even as she threw open the doors of the building, those glass doors lined with metal, solid as hell, heavy as fuck, she ran out into the bitter air, feeling the cold devour her skin.

More.

She didn’t realize it but she was running now, into the parking lot, David not far behind, though he didn’t exist right now. Her sister’s smile was there, a true memory in its purest form, the smile she had wanted to see last night but didn’t want tainted and tied to this psychopath now.

Unthinking and perhaps uncaring, her hands grabbed at the hem of her sweater, pulling it up and over her head, tossing it to the ground of the parking lot filled only with cars, otherwise without a soul. The air was frigid as it enveloped her and tore her from reality. She gasped as the item fell, leaving her in her form-fitted white t-shirt and jeans alone, able to see her breath as she felt it stopping her from hyperventilating, the cold burning her skin, tearing at her and pulling her out of this other reality.

Once, during training, she had been shot. Not with a real bullet, of course, but shot none the less. A rubber bullet the academy insisted they feel the impact of to know what they might use in certain circumstances. And, perhaps, be prepared for since it’d be similar to a bullet hitting a bulletproof vest. The bullet had been fired by some complete and utter asshole Thomas Engleson, a man who didn’t think women could hack it. He shot her in the ribcage, instead of the stomach. He hit her directly. Not indirectly. And of course he was excused for it.

The pain of the shot had been incredible but she had gritted her teeth and taken it in. A cracked rib meant she was out for a bit, but it didn’t actually stop her. She kept training. Moving. Not exacerbating the damage but doing just enough to keep going. But the pain of that moment had been etched into her body’s memory.

This hurt worse.

Her skin was covered in goosebumps from the cold, beginning to shiver as she stood, perhaps for ten minutes, David standing behind her as he looked at her. This woman unshaken by so much, who had taken in twelve dead bodies and kept going, who took information meant to terrify and had kept pushing. Whatever had been in that note, in that box, had been meant just for her on a level those notes for David never touched.

It felt like an ache, standing in the cold as he watched the woman he had found himself so fond of suddenly pushing out the entire world as though it might infect her. He wanted to grab her sweater, wrap her in it, and pull her close. He’d swear to god he’d get the guy. And he would, even if he didn’t tell her that. He swore as he watched her, that finding this man would be his only task. He wouldn’t sleep. Wouldn’t eat. This was Dover and Birch, but now he was the onve involved. His own life was on the line.

“Do you ever wonder what it feels like to die, David?” The words were loud enough for him to hear, the wind suddenly picking up as she stared ahead to the road leading into the precinct, fairly empty though cars scattered about, the day cloudy and bitter.

He took a moment to consider it. He had. He had wondered once, when the kid in his backseat was frothing at the mouth, if maybe he prayed hard enough her poison would go into his body. He could take it, he thought. Better let the child live. He had seen enough, “Yes.” He answered simply. Now was not the time for banter.

A sort of dark chuckle left her lips, “I used to wonder what it might be like to die. After my sister was killed, I thought it was the only thing left that could actually scare me. The world couldn’t hurt me any more than it did when I was seventeen. I didn’t want to die, I still don’t, but I knew I could face that fear.

“But now? God, David… I wish I was fucking dead.” She fell to her knees so suddenly it caught David by surprise, running to her as he grabbed her sweater, saying ‘fuck it’ to the world as he wrapped his arms around her, pressing her body to his as he tried to finagle a way to keep her sweater on her as well.

No sobs or cries escaped her lips as her body went lax, falling against him as she wondered, perhaps, if maybe just giving in to this would be best. This felt so goddamn dramatic, and maybe it was, but for good reason. This man had found out one of her most intimate details of her life and sent it to her in a box. He had delivered to her a piece of her, and what scared her most was the fact that this man, this murderer, thought he was showing some sort of deranged compassion.

Time seemed to stop and David was grateful for the fact that they were far enough away, and behind most of the cars in the lot, that the world wouldn’t see them like this. He could smell the free, nondescript shampoo offered by the hotel, unsurprised that she wasn’t doused in perfume. But she did smell of something. Her own personal brand of herself. Pushing back some of her hair he spoke, “You can’t go anywhere yet. You can’t possibly trust me to finish this case by myself,” he grinned, stopping himself from pressing his lips against her head.

Chuckling, despite her desire not to, she shook her head, “I sure as hell don’t expect you to solve this alone. You need my theories, Detective Loki. I came up with a bunch last night.” It was tragic in a way, how fast she was working to compartmentalize. Whoever it was that had sent her the letter had done a bang-up job scaring the shit out of her. He had opened the locker that held her sister and emptied the contents without permission. But Y/N was cleaning it up. She was fixing it. In her mind she was already putting herself and all those pieces back together.

Looking confused David pulled away slightly, “Don’t you think you should go get coffee or something? Take a- Ah, fuck, who am I kidding. You’re not listening to me, are you?”

The ghost of a smile crept onto her lips as she raised an eyebrow, looking at David now, “Not really. And I mean, what’s stopping going to do? We both know I’m invested. He… he may have targeted you and those other detectives, and honed onto you, but with me… I’m a happy accident. He picked me. I don’t want to be another body in a church, David,” her eyes changed as she looked at him, suddenly fragile and vulnerable, opening her heart to this man. Detective. The one holding her in the parking lot of the precinct while both tried to put together what they just went through.

Stroking her cheek lightly David whispered, “And you won’t be. You’re gonna get up, put your sweater on, and go back inside. And when everyone looks at you, or asks if you’re OK, you’re not gonna smile or fake it, you stare at them. Through them. None of them matter now. Not a single soul inside. We’re gonna find this asshole, and we’re gonna stop him. Now get up.”

He pulled away, nothing truly romantic in the gesture but one that broke her just the same. They were words that felt charged with something more than a pep talk, but instead felt like a true demand. David understood she wasn’t some person who just fell over because they were pushed. She’d stumble. She’d fall. And he knew she could get right back up and go back to bat. And as she stood, David doing the same, he watched her eyes as she put the sweater on. Something had changed, briefly, something else. Something oddly dark that he couldn’t put his finger on, but understood she perhaps needed. The same thing he had needed in his time.

Turning her back to him, Y/N made her way back towards the precinct, her feet marching with purpose, her eyes focused, laser focused, as she understood what this was. This man chose people. Always. He had a reason and a purpose and it was never an accident. He had found the CD she brought to her sister’s grave (though she suspected it wasn’t the same one), he had written a detailed note, and he had found the one thing in this world she was still so very vulnerable to.

Now she was going to find him.

( @escapingthoughtsandsecrets @is-it-madness @detecellie @oscarflysaac @peccobagnaia @fgtakbrjbdl @doritosandavocados @miss-missing-patd

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frostedfaves · 4 years ago

Text

Damage (2)

Part 1

Pairing: Jake Peralta x fem!reader

Summary: Y/N attempts to avenge her mother and save future victims.

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: angst, family angst, magical angst, death

"It's clear here. You should be able to get all the way to the storage room without detection."

Y/N turned to the group after doing a quick sweep of the building with her powers. Jake nods in response, his features quickly shifting into a frown when he saw her magically open the door. He was quick to grab her arm before she could step inside.

"What are you doing?" he whispered as urgently as possible.

"Going in," she responded with a confused look before going to walk in again, the grip around her arm only tightening. "Jake, let go."

"No, you can't go in. You'll get hurt."

Y/N rolled her eyes at him. "Jake, I'm the least of your worries. I literally have powers to protect me and you made me wear this vest." She noticed the concern still swimming in his eyes and sighed. "Don't worry. I'll stick behind you guys and keep the exits sealed to trap them."

"Fine." He couldn't help the smile that broke through in response to her grin as he let her go and they entered the building.

The team spent weeks following that night of successful busts rounding up the entirety of Patali's men. Turns out there were a lot of them. After news broke--much to the dismay of the squad--that some had been captured, the rest quickly fled into hiding. Unfortunately for them, they didn't have powers to counteract Y/N's. By now, they'd arrested and charged every member of the drug ring, but had yet to catch their leader.

"Hey, Y/N!" Amy greeted with a smile as she and the other squad members walked into Y/N's apartment, the rest giving her the same line or a simple head nod. She was just about to close the door when she realized there was one person missing.

"I can't believe you were gonna lock out your favorite."

Y/N turned back to see Jake's hand inches away from hers on the door to stop it from closing, unable to fight the warmth in her cheeks. "Well it's not my fault you were late. You snooze, you lose, Peralta."

"Well then, I guess I'll just take my gift back--"

"Gift?" She grabbed his arm from behind his back to reveal a bag from her favorite craft store. "What did you...?" She let the sentence fade as she met Jake's eyes again.

"Well," he began as he came in finally and closed the door behind himself, meeting her eyes again with a shy smile. "I may have done a little digging and found out that today was your birthday so... happy birthday." His smile fell when he noticed the tears building in her eyes. "Oh no, did I get the date wrong?"

"No, no," she quickly reassured him, blinking back the building tears with a small sniffle. "Sorry, I just haven't gotten a birthday gift in like years so..." Before she could overthink it, she rushed forward to wrap her arms around him,, resting her head on his shoulder. "Thank you, Jake."

He let out a low chuckle, forcing himself not to enjoy the warmth that radiated from her body pressed against his or the pleasant scent of whatever wonderful perfume she'd sprayed that morning. "You don't even know what it is."

"Doesn't matter. Thank you." She opened her eyes and noticed everyone staring at them, quickly pulling away and clearing her throat. "Right, so anyway." She took the bag from Jake and dropped it on a nearby table as she came to sit in front of the group.

"Now that I've got you all here, I'm pleased to say that I've figured out a way to catch my dad. I'm going to lure him to my childhood home. His last remaining piece of home is hidden there. All I have to do is find it, break it, and he'll come rushing back to find whoever did it and punish them. I'll drain his powers and then you can arrest him. It should be easy, since he's literally nothing without the extra help."

"Are you sure you can do it without him hurting you, though?" Charles questioned with a hint of fear in his features, and Y/N couldn't help but appreciate his concern.

"He may have gotten away with a lot of things in his life, but I'm not letting him get away with anymore. What he's failed to realize all this time is that constantly killing and mentally destroying people paired with aging takes a toll on the body, magical or not." She stood up then, unable to fight the grin that followed.

"Let's go put that old man in jail."

They got out of the van outside of the house half an hour later wearing bulletproof vests. Y/N met eyes with Jake again and before she could question the look he gave her, Rosa bumped shoulders with her.

"All good inside?" she questioned quietly.

"Give me a second." She closed her eyes and ran through the building in her mind, being sure to check even the surrounding area for traps before opening her eyes again. "All good. Let's go."

The squad followed her inside and locked the door behind themselves as Y/N turned to face them all, her eyes watering slightly.

"I'm pretty confident that I'll get him and that I can protect you guys from him, but just in case..."

She stepped in front of Terry, who was the closest. After conjuring up a large ball of glittering pink, she cracked it over his head like an egg and the insides covered him until his entire body glowed in the color. She repeated this action with everyone, getting to Jake last and sending him a quick--hopefully reassuring--smile before coming back to stand in front of everyone.

"I thought about making you all invisible but he'll know you're here regardless. This will protect you from any trick he uses to escape or try to get inside my head."

They followed Y/N around the house as she looked for the item, staring at the place in awe. The house was really a smaller scale mansion, lined with too many expensive items to count. Despite this being the home that Y/N grew up in, there were no pictures of her or her mother. Only intricate portraits of Pavlo himself in different poses, further proving his hatred of everyone but himself.

"I found it!"

They all followed her voice into a room with marble flooring, empty of everything except a long shelf filled with different books, expensive lamps, and other items the group couldn't seem to identify. They watched as Y/N turned around with a black box in her hands, opening it to reveal the shiniest jewel they'd ever seen.

"It's a Nuxvarian diamond," she added when she caught sight of their confused faces. "You leave it to protect a place you care about. Nothing bad can happen to it, or the place it's guarding while it's here. At least, until it's magically destroyed."

She tossed it out of the box and into the air away from everyone, quickly dropping the box and using both hands to shoot rays of pink toward the object. Everyone ducked as it broke into pieces with a deafening crack, turning to dust as it hit the floor.

"Cool," Rosa muttered with a grin that shocked the hell out of Y/N, just before the ground began to shake in the place where the diamond dust landed.

"Shit, that was fast," Y/N whispered with even wider eyes.

"What should we do?" Terry quickly asked in a panic, bringing Y/N back to her senses.

"Um, just get against that wall and do not try to jump in under any circumstances, got it?" She watched as they nodded and got into position before turning back to the dust, trying to gulp down any fear that threatened to escape.

Seconds later, Pavlo appeared in full human form, giving her a look that would melt any regular human to a puddle.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing, Y/N?"

"Hello to you, too, Dad."

He lashed out in anger with a ray of black glitter, but Y/N was quick to send it back to him, managing to cut his arm open in the process. His head fell back as he roared with laughter in response.

"Wow. Look at you, all grown up! Here to avenge your mommy's death? And what, you brought your little friends to watch?" He gestured to the detectives and Y/N couldn't help sparing them a glance, careful not to linger on Jake's fearful gaze. "Answer me!"

Y/N ducked as another ray was sent to her that she didn't have time to block. "Stop! You think you have any right to be angry? You can find more people to run your stupid fucking drug ring but I can't just find a new fucking mom, or get back all those years of being a normal child that I lost! So stop the tantrum and act like a rational adult for once in your fucking life!"

Pavlo let out another roar, the humor missing this time. "You're talking a lot of big shit for such a small brat. You forget that I had Nuxvar crumbling at my feet within minutes with my bare hands, so I won't even break a sweat dealing with a tiny piece of shit like you."

Y/N paused to take a deep breath, trying not to let him take her too far into her anger. "It doesn't matter what you say anymore. When I'm done with you, you'll be just another sad sack rotting away in jail because you couldn't just do the right thing and be a decent person."

"And how do you expect to get me there? I destroyed the one thing that gave you a chance against me."

"You didn't destroy the copy." She pulled the shrunken copy from her pants pocket, magically growing it to regular size and tossing it at him. "This ends today."

He simply glanced at the book in his hand before dropping it with a sinister chuckle, his eyes turning completely black as he kept them trained on hers. Y/N watched him fearfully, jumping when she suddenly heard her mother's voice directly in her ears.

"You shouldn't do this, Y/N..."

"No--"

"You know this isn't what I want..."

"Dad, stop--"

"I'm glad Pavlov killed me, or I would've had to do it myself..."

"Stop! Fucking stop!"

Y/N squeezed her eyes shut as tightly as she could, clamping her hands over her ears in a failed attempt to keep the layered whispers out that were coming from inside her own head. Her breathing and heart rate quickened continuously as she felt herself going mentally insane the longer this went on. Finally deciding she'd had enough, a long, piercing scream followed by a thick cloud of glittering pink was released before she could stop it. It exploded even bigger, shaking the whole room and seeming to destroy everything within the four walls as it threw her backwards to the ground with the force of it.

When it finally cleared, the detectives looked around as their protective glaze disappeared. Jake instantly ran to Y/N, mind thinking the worst as the rest of the squad recovered.

"Y/N? Y/N!" His arms wrapped around her as soon as he saw her sit up, pulling back for a second to brush her hair away from her face. "Are you alright? What happened?"

She pulled herself out of her exhausted haze to attempt a response, her words falling short when she caught sight of the other side of the room.

"No," she croaked out.

"What? Y/N, what--"

"No!"

She pushed herself off the floor, running and falling to her knees again in the spot where her father stood, a pile of ash all that remained.

"No no no, fuck!"

"Y/N, it's okay." Jake commented, by her side again within seconds, until she pulled away from him again.

"No Jake, I was just supposed to take his powers, not his life! Now I'm just like him!"

"Y/N, listen to me," Jake practically growled out as he came face to face with her once more, this time placing his hands on her cheeks to hold her close. "You are nothing like him, okay? You did what you had to do to protect us and yourself. He did damage. You did good for the world. It's not your fault."

Y/N stared into his eyes a moment longer until sobs began falling from her mouth, her body collapsing into his arms once more as her tears soaked the shoulder of his shirt. She squeezed her eyes shut once more, grateful for the contrasting silence of the room as she tried to wrap her head around the mess she created. Jake was right, but he was also wrong.

She did damage, too.

#queue #jake peralta #jake peralta x reader #jake peralta x fem!reader #jake peralta imagine #brooklyn nine nine #brooklyn 99 #brooklyn nine nine imagine #brooklyn nine nine x reader #b99 fic #b99 imagine #b99 x reader #b99 fanfic

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taliahvause · 4 years ago

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730 Days? | Self Paragraph

DAY ONE

“How was your journey here? Did the escorting staff treat you good?” There was supposed to be some kind of empathy in the tone of the Officer, but they had been on shift since 7am and it was now almost 10pm. Vause just nodded, she understood what it was like to be tired. She felt exhausted herself. After spending hours crammed in what can only be described as a mobile metal casket travelling from Manhatten to the federal prison on the edge of the state line, all she wanted was to knock out. To forget she was even back in this shit hole. “Sign here, here, and here. Then we’ll get you in to the nurse, get you some clothes and down to the wing--”

“She knows the drill.” Another, older Officer pitched in, making Vause look up from the paperwork.

“How are you not retired yet, Hunt?”

“Yoga. Keeps the mind, body, and soul young, Vause. You should give it a try.”.

She scoffed, rolled her eyes and then scribbled her name on the last dotted line. She saw the doctor. Traded in her stuff for orange. Then glanced around the reception area, the one she won’t see again for 2 years. 24 months. 730 days... It was only 730 days.

DAY SEVEN

Honey Brown. 1h. 6 s, 2 c. 23a. The note was stuffed in her pocket from the laundry workers and Vause sat down on her bed, holding it with both hands and staring at the writing. It had been seven days, seven days of those ringing fucking alarms, of torches shining through the glass waking her up every other goddamn hour. Just one hit, just to sleep for a night properly. She looked up and across at the picture on the wall. The one of her wife and her jaw tensed as she crushed the piece of paper in her fist. Then she glanced at the calander. 723 days.

DAY THIRTY ONE

“Are you fucking kidding me?! I’m not moving!” Vause protested, shaking her head as she backed into the corner of her cell. “You can’t move me onto B wing, that’s Brooklyn fucking territory, you KNOW what they’ll do to a Harlem girl, come on!” She yelled as the Officer’s, padded up in full riot gear spilled into her cell. “Fine!” Vause pushed her sleeves up. “You want a fucking fight, assholes? Let’s go!” She screamed, running at the shield and rolling over the top of it, kicking one guard in the face and headbutting another as she landed between all of them. Fists flew, connecting with whatever they could until there was a winding thud in her back and all the air was forced out of her lungs as she was sandwiched up against the wall by the shielded screw.

“Take her down to the fucking block.”.

The bang of the cell door closing was the start of the silence, of a seven day stretch with nothing but a metal bed frame, a shitty pillow and these four walls. 699 days.

DAY FIFTY THREE

The segregation was tough, but it was over and it did its job. She didn’t get moved to B, instead she went to F wing with the rest of the Harlem lot. She’d made a few connections, a few... Friends... Though, she didn’t trust anyone. She knew from past experience that this place was a dog eat dog world. Everyone was out for themselves. The moment you get in someone’s way, or you become a burden to them you become nothing. “Eh, Vause, you’re on the visitation list you know,” one of those tender connections strolled into her cell.

“What? No I’m not, it’s too far out for my wife to come. Don’t fuck with me man, I’ll roll your head off,” she threatened loosely with a suck of her lips and a shake of her head.

“Nah, nah, man, you on there, go check it-- thousand sticks, V.” That was a bit of saying around the wind. Thousand sticks, meaning an a thousand cigarette bet. Vause’s eyebrow raised and, with a heavy sigh, she rolled off the top bunk, throwing the rubber band ball back up onto it and walked out the cell to the notice board.

“Well shit...” For the first time in fifty three days, Vause smiled. This created quite the rally of cheers from her ‘friends’, who jokingly pushed her around a little in front of the board. “Fuck off everyone,” she groaned though the little smile on her face made it hard to take it seriously.

Later that day, walking through those doors and seeing her wife’s face for the first time in months, despite it being through bulletproof glass, her heart skipped a beat. Then it sunk, though she hid that part because this was hard enough already. But, 677 days seemed like a lifetime.

DAY ONE HUNDRED AND SEVEN

Her head hung over the letter. She noticed the little things in it that weren’t words. The way some of the letters were uncharacteristically slanted. The few red droplets at the bottom of the letter. It was the first of two birthday letters she was going to recieve in these cold four walls, and she could tell Riley had been drinking when she wrote it. Vause gasped for a breath of air when she realized she hadn’t taken one in a while as a few of her tears joined those small red marks at the bottom of the page. “I’m sorry...” She whispers as her knees come up into her chest and she hugs the letter into her chest, falling back against the wall. 623 days...

DAY TWO HUNDRED AND EIGHTY NINE

“What do you mean ‘what is this’?! I ain’t ever seen that shit in my life!” Vause argued, hands in the air as the searching Officers stood before her asking where she had got the mobile phone from that they had just found in her pillow. “Unlock it, I won’t know any of the contacts in there. It’s not mine.” She wasn’t even lying, but of course they didn’t believe that.

“What so someone just put a mobile phone into your pillow?”

“There’s weirder fucking shit happening in this shithole!” Vause snapped back as she felt her breathing get heavier and heavier with anger as she thought about who the fuck had set her up. Was it the women that had tried to bring her into the drug ring that she turned down? Was it one of the women who wanted her to be their prison wife that she’d told to go fuck a cactus? Was it a fucking Officer?

“You know phone finds mean two weeks in the block, Vause.”

“IT’S NOT MINE! I CAN’T GO TO THE FUCKING BLOCK. C’MON, DANIELS, YOU KNOW I ADMIT TO SHIT WHEN I GET CAUGHT-- THIS AIN’T MINE! I HAVE A VISIT ON FRIDAY, IT’S MY ANNIVERSARY, I’M NOT MISSING IT!” She punched the wall, and instantly regretted doing that as she felt her knuckles crack. “FUCK!” One of the Officers grabbed onto her arm and she instantly tensed up and pushed him away from her. “FUCK. OFF. Don’t fucking grab me! I’ll fucking walk!” She spat, looking between them both before kicking the chair across the room causing it to smash and break against the far wall before storming out of the cell. Anything that wasn’t bolted to the ground on route from her cell to the segregation block was kicked or thrown in rage. “WHOEVER SET ME UP, I’M HAVING YOUR FUCKING HEADS!” She yelled out as she was escorted off the wing and down the stairs.

Once again, the heavy cell door slammed shut and once again she was left with nothing but the knowledge that there was only 441 days left... Only.

DAY TWO HUNDRED AND NINETY THREE

She had fallen onto her knees in front of the steel door, hands balled into fists pressing against the cold metal. Her cheeks were lined with streams of tears, head hanging as she thought about Riley sat in the visitation booth waiting for her. She had been screaming for them to let her out, to let her go, that she’d do anything, for the past four hours. The visit session would have been well over by now. It was their anniversary, the first one they’d not seen each other one and she felt like someone was ripping her heart out. Her body violently shook as she thought about who the fuck planted that phone, her nails digging into her palms and drawing blood. She couldn’t even write to Riley to tell her not to come. She couldn’t even warn her... What if it was an asshole Officer up there? What did they tell her?

I’m sorry... I’m sorry...

437 days.

DAY THREE HUNDRED AND FIFTEEN

Vause was still shaking as she stood in the shower and watched the water mix with the blood that washed off from her knuckles. She focused on controlling her breathing, her teeth gritted together as she scrubbed the marks and evidence off her body. It had taken her no more than three days out of confinement to figure out who had planted the phone in her cell, and under the cover of most of the wing being out on the yard, she had paid them a visit and left them in a ball on their cells floor with a bloody face and a few cracked ribs. If it wasn’t for the one person she actually trusted being on lookout and seeing her start to loose control, and so intervening and pulling her away, she probably would have killed her. She made her miss her anniversary. She was lucky to still be alive. Vause stepped out of the shower, dried off, and pulled her clothes back on before wrapping her knuckles in toilet paper and then putting gloves on. Luckily, the prison was fucking freezing and it was the middle of October. It wasn’t exactly suspect to be walking around in a coat and gloves; in fact it was more suspect to not be. She wondered whether the guards knew anyway, whether they supported what she did, because she was never so much as questioned about what happened to that woman... Perhaps her luck was turning. It was about time. 415 days...

DAY FOUR HUNDRED

“Congrats, Vause. You’re going up a level, pack your stuff, you’re shipping out to inner state,” the Officer switched her light on and Vause initally groaned before registering what he had said, bolting up on the bed.

“Wait-- I’m going back to the city?”

“Yep. Good behaviour lessened your security level, you get to move on and we get a bigger asshole in to take your spot. They don’t know how easy they got it in state,” he rolled his eyes as he threw a few bags onto her bed. “C’mon, transport goes in an hour... Unless you’d stay, of course.”

“Yeah, fuck that,” Vause scoffed, throwing the covers back and jumping straight up onto her feet. “I’ll be ready in ten-- wait, my wife is--”

“Already told you’ve moved. Ten it is. Better get packing.”.

She was going back to the city. Closer to her wife. Less restrictions. No glass between them at visits... Vause smiled. 330 days wasn’t sounding so bad... And they weren’t, until...

DAY SIX HUNDRED AND TEN

Leaving surgery behind... Switching to therapy... Moving away from the city. Vause’s head was spinning as she paced around her cell, going over everything they had spoken about in the visit. It was something that they had joked about before; running away from NYC the moment she was released, going and hiding away from the world and becoming one with nature. But, when Riley said she had given up her position at the hosptial... When she said she was going to switch to therapy. It just didn’t seem like Vause was in on the full story. She could tell Riley was drinking more than just a nightcap these days, but she didn’t exactly have a leg to stand on in speaking out against it. She was in fucking prison... Everything just seemed so-- out of control. Everything felt like-- she was in the eye of a hurricane. Then a note slid underneath her door. Cocoa puff bowl. 20stick. 2-12. Her breath caught in the back of her throat. That would make her stop pacing. Stop overthinking this. She was almost out, anyway, right? She was almost done. There was only... 120 days.

DAY SIX HUNDRED AND FIFTY TWO

She must have been convincing when she had spoken about Riley moving down to their new town before she was released, because the blonde eventually got on board with it. Vause had come to terms with it all over the past few months, she realised that New York was her home but now it was the place where she would end up either incarcerated for the rest of her life; or dead. They had to get away from the Apple. Clearly, they both needed a fresh start, and if Riley could get away from the city before she could? Vause knew she wasn’t happy here anymore, in New York. Of course, she wanted her to stay so she could keep getting the regular visits but it wasn’t worth it... Vause didn’t want to let go of her today, and she didn’t until the final warning from the Officers. “I love you... Stay safe for me, I’ll stay out of trouble for you, baby...” She wasn’t supposed to, but Vause kissed her wife before reluctantly letting go, hands going in the air as she looked to the Officer with a little smirk. She walked backwards out of the visit hall, eyes staying softly on her wife, taking in every last detail of her features as if it was the first time she was looking at her; or the last... Well, it was the last time for a while. Vause blew Riley a kiss with a smile before finally turning around. It was going to be okay... There was only 78 days left. 2 and a half months. It was going to be okay. 78 days.

DAY SIX HUNDRED AND SIXTY NINE

“Release day, Vause! Up and at em!” The sudden light made her pupils dilate and the early morning hours and breeze from the door made the statement even more confusing that it already was. She wasn’t due out yet. There was still more time to go. She blinked her vision into focus and saw that it was one of the asshole Officers and she groaned, rolling her eyes and falling back onto her bed.

“That’s not fucking funny, Georgeman,” she muttered.

“What do you mean funny? You’re getting out, here--” he threw the clipboard at her which made her groan, sigh and sit up. She was going to lose her shit with this guy one of these days. Asshole. Vause pushed on her glasses and froze for a second. He wasn’t fucking around. There was her name, her prison number, and in big red letters RELEASE.

“Well fuck-- that-- came around quick...” Vause swallowed, playing along, just waiting for the sike to come but then he threw the bags into the room and continued down the corridor to unlock the next release. She scrambled up to her feet and stuck her head out, half expecting him again to be stood out there laughing. But, he wasn’t, he was carrying on with his job... She was-- well, fuck, she was getting out early.

61 days early.

That was 5 days ago.

TODAY

Now she was down in Santa Ysabel, she was back with her wife. But it was strange... She still felt like she should be counting down the days. She still heard the sound of boots patrolling and torches switching on and off when she closed her eyes. She was still listening out for alarms. Everyone that passed her on the street a little too close almost got pushed back onto their ass. She had to control herself though. This wasn’t prison anymore. She was free. This was her home now... Riley was her home. It didn’t matter where they were. But, it was hard to readjust... And she couldn’t fucking sleep. Maybe she’ll sleep better in 56 days... When she was supposed to be out... Maybe she’ll stop dreaming about feds kicking down their front door and dragging her away from her wife again then... She can’t lose her again. She won’t.

#self para #730 days #tw; prison #tw; prison mention #tw; drugs #tw; drug mention

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tysonrunningfox · 5 years ago

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Ripped Part 26

Ao3

Hiccup has had one other psychological evaluation. It was when he got out of the hospital, and it went about the same as this one.

In other words, not well.

It turns out that being a white male with a rough relationship with an impossible to please, now absent father figure who also happens to have a long history of childhood bullying raises some red flags. At least last time he was fifteen and still theoretically moldable, instead of a twenty-five-year-old serial murder suspect who just happened to spend the last few years giving nightly tours about the very murders he allegedly copied.

So maybe it went worse this time.

The one bright point was probably the crack in the psychologist’s clinical veneer when Hiccup assured her that no, in fact, he did not have any history of killing animals and he actually loved his childhood cat very much until it died at the ripe old age of eighteen. Of natural causes.

When assuring a mental health professional that he does not now and never has enjoyed torturing animals is a high point, it’s safe to say that this has been a long week. A long month, really. A long year.

Hell, a long life.

Jail has a way of stretching minutes into hours and squeezing hours into dull, ceaseless blinks of an eye. He understands now why people used to mark the dungeon walls when they got fed or caught a glimpse of the sun, because the days blurring together is enough to make Hiccup feel as crazy as the psychiatrist assumed he was.

Not that his version of crazy would ever mean killing cats. His version of crazy appears to mean long, elaborate daydreams of a private shower with a locking door, and also practically unfettered glee when he sees his lawyer because that means he gets to go to a room with a comfortable chair for a while and talk to someone not assuming his guilt.

A straight-faced guard in an NWF uniform walks Hiccup down to the long bank of stalls along a plexiglass barrier. The guard gestures to the last stall and Hiccup sits down in the office chair that might as well be a throne of perfectly fluffed pillows after sitting on his thin mattress all day. His back relaxes enough to hurt, and he exhales a long, slow breath and focuses on Eretson filling out a form before taking the seat on the other side of the plexiglass and picking up the dingy white plastic phone.

“How are you?” Eretson asks out of politeness, not expecting a real answer.

Hiccup almost gives him one anyway, but he doesn’t think it would make him feel any better to say that he’s in jail, it’s miserable, he’s been terrified for so long that he’s mostly just exhausted, and he doesn’t think the psychiatrist liked him very much because she didn’t laugh at any of his jokes.

He settles instead for, “I’m here.”

“How is everything going?” Eretson asks, writing on a legal pad in neat, oversized block letters. Grisly?

They can’t be sure if anything is being recorded on the ancient phone system, but silence is suspicious too.

“Oh, you know, I’m just being in jail. It’s pretty lonely not talking to anyone but your lawyer,” Hiccup laughs, not explicitly trying to sound tired but not holding it back either.

“Any family that you want to visit? I know your mom has been in contact.”

Hiccup swallows hard, “it’s a long flight, she doesn’t need to spend the money just to see me make a fashion statement in orange.” It doesn’t stop him from thinking about her though, how confused she’d be. How angry she’d be if she knew the truth.

His mom is the only woman who ever made his dad back down from an argument and for a second, he lets himself imagine that she could save him. Yell at Grisly, start a picket line, demand reform.

But Grisly isn’t someone to yell at. He’d have no issue adding to his body count.

It makes Hiccup want to scream, and rave, and get a poster-board at a busy intersection to help him spread the truth, and if it were his own life he was risking, he’d do it. But it’s not.

“How is everyone?” He asks, and if Eretson knows who he’s really asking about, he doesn’t show it. His poker face is exhausting, adding to the dreary blur of days in jail. If Hiccup had been making marks on the dungeon wall for every time he won a reaction out of someone, he’d have a single mark made immediately after being placed in his cell, awarded for getting under Grisly’s skin during processing.

“Everything is fine,” Eretson could be lying and Hiccup probably wouldn’t know it, but the thought of something happening to Snotlout or Astrid and not even knowing is too much to even speculate on. It’s the kind of thought that keeps him up at night, counting dimples in the popcorn ceiling to fill the dead space in his mind. “I do want to talk about your options moving towards a trial.”

“Oh God, did the profiler tell you that I’m crazy?” Hiccup laughs under his breath, “because I think she confused my attempts at humor for debilitating psychological issues.” He continues babbling when Eretson doesn’t laugh, “not that I know anything about that. I’m just speaking from what I’ve seen on TV.”

“The profile is just one piece of the case,” Eretson assures, “and you don’t quite fit the profile of a serial murderer.”

“What does ‘not quite’ mean? Is it just the white male, daddy issues thing or did some of my answers partially fit the serial murderer profile?”

“For future reference, saying that Viggo Grimborn is a ‘hobby’ is a bit suspicious.”

“I’ll file that away for the next time I get criminally profiled,” Hiccup nods, “with my luck I’ll probably need it. Should I have said that I actually picked up yoga like my doctor told me to?”

“I finally got access to Grisly’s evidence file,” Eretson changes the subject and Hiccup bites the inside of his cheek to keep from asking if he’s ever laughed, even once, “and it’s going to take a while to look through it all and compare it to my own, but so far it’s more airtight than I would have expected.”

Hiccup has never been very good at not saying what he feels, or even delaying saying what he feels, but glancing at the NWF guard out of the corner of his eye helps him shove his rant back down.

“Oh.”

“Of course, forensics is still working, but that could take months—”

“Months?” Hiccup knows the theory of the word, in that the year is broken into twelve more or less even pieces consisting of approximately thirty days each. There’s something about the moon in there too. But in practice? The concept of spending months in this limbo is foreign and impossible, defying some belief held so strongly that it feels like a physical law. “How long have I been in here?”

“Five days.”

“And you’re saying months until a trial.”

“Under current timelines, yes.” Eretson goes to make another note but then decides against it, speaking carefully instead. “And given the unique circumstances of your situation, I don’t believe that waiting months is the best path forward.”

Hiccup hears the truth between the words: Leaving Grisly to his own devices for months gives him more time to bulletproof his lies and clean up his evidence. His throat tightens when he thinks of Astrid and how much danger she’s in.

“Have you told anyone what I told you about…the case?” He tries, “you know, about their um, continued involvement in the case as it progresses?” His eyes scream about Grisly’s threats and Eretson must get the message because he shakes his head.

“No, I haven’t, I think it’s best to minimize Miss Hofferson’s involvement at this point, given all how many times her name comes up in the file.”

Hiccup doesn’t know Miss Hofferson. Miss Hofferson threatened a harassment claim at one point, sure, but she ceased to exist when Astrid came into the picture. Astrid with her glares and her bony fists and misty eyes when she looks at old books. Astrid impatient for the truth, impatient for the point of a roundabout story, always moving and trying and inviting him to try too.

“Don’t you think…I mean, wouldn’t it be better for her to know the situation?” His throat is dry, and swallowing doesn’t seem to help.

“I thought of something that could potentially move the process along faster,” Eretson ignores Hiccup’s question, not unkindly just devoted to keeping the meeting on track, and Hiccup presses the phone closer to his face, forcing himself to focus. “We haven’t considered a plea deal.”

“A plea deal? Like taking a driving course to knock a few points off of a driving ticket?”

“In this case, a confession and promise to divulge information about anyone else involved in the case in exchange for a reduced sentence.” Eretson writes on the pad, Grisly coerced you into the last murder, then turned on you.

Hiccup’s heart pounds in his ears. One murder, not four. It would be a better ratio if they were talking about any other crime. One car stolen, not four. One house broken into, not four. But as someone who has committed zero murders, confessing to one feels monumental and terrifying and stupid.

While he can’t honestly say he’s spent much time trying to be successful, he has made a conscious effort to not absolutely ruin his life, and confessing to a murder he didn’t commit in order to tell a bunch of lies connecting him to the man who did sounds like a very quick way to undo all of that.

“Reduced sentence, not no sentence.”

“It gives us leverage too,” Eretson insists, “we can argue the conditions of you coming forward with information and include minimum sentence before appeal for probation or insist on a certain facility that’s better than here.”

“So trading months waiting for trial for some as of yet unspecified amount of time in a different cell?” Hiccup snorts, “is there a catalog? Do I get to choose my bedsheets and pick out a plant for the window?”

“The prosecution would no longer have months to prepare for a trial. As it is, they have plenty of time to build their case.” The ‘and do other things like horribly murder your remaining loved ones’ is an unspoken addition.

“Do you think it would work?” Hiccup lets himself think about it, glazing over the moment he’d have to sit in front of his father’s oldest frenemy and say that he took someone’s life.

How deep can Grisly’s cover really go? He thinks of the man’s empty office, his horde of creepy guards seamlessly integrating with multiple levels of law enforcement. How long would someone have to dig to find something wrong? Would a name brought up in a plea deal be enough?

“I have witnesses,” Eretson says, scrawling Jorgenson in purposeful letters on the pad.

“The benefit then, is that we have a chance to direct the investigation.”

“Towards the truth, of course.”

“Right, the truth.” As much as Hiccup has played fast and loose with the rules, he’s always had a steady commitment to the truth, but telling it didn’t save him. Hell, telling the truth now would get people killed, and the silence is starting to be so deafening he’s wondering if the affects will be permanent.

“Think about it,” Eretson starts to stand up and Hiccup fumbles for something else to talk about, anything to get some more time out of character as ‘obedient inmate’, but he’s too slow and Eretson hangs up the phone.

He almost knocks on the plexiglass to get his attention before remembering that’s strictly against the rules, and his hand freezes mid-air when he looks over Eretson’s shoulder and sees who’s turning away from the front desk after filling out a form.

It’s Astrid.

She’s wearing a glare that could melt the barrier between them if she aimed it his direction instead of at Eretson and a jacket she must have borrowed from Hiccup’s coat closet. Her arms fly out from her sides as she argues then she shoves her hands in her pockets and narrows her eyes, an expression he instantly recognizes as seething doubt. She was clearly asking for something she thought she wasn’t going to get, and now that she’s won it, she’s unsure if it’s real.

Then, she looks at him and her eyes widen as her shoulders slump, relief that he can hardly fathom having anything to do with him flooding across her features.

He smiles the first real smile he’s had since she was tangled in his hoarded sheets and everything seemed like it would be ok and waves and she waves back, one half limp hand raised to shoulder height.

Eretson crosses his arms, shoulders rigid then relaxing as he points at the chair he just vacated, saying something else that makes Astrid shoot him a sharp look before hurrying to the other side of the glass. She practically falls into the chair, picking up the phone with shaking fingers and holding it to her ear.

He loves her.

“Hi,” Hiccup starts, anticlimactic, and Astrid’s mouth splits into a wide, tired smile.

He loves her and she isn’t safe here. Not with the NWF guard at the door, not with Grisly just a buzz away.

“Hi,” she bites her lower lip and leans forward on her elbows on the ledge in front of the window, and if it weren’t for the plexiglass, he could kiss her. “Eretson isn’t happy that I’m here, he told me not to follow him because visiting hours were over, but I checked online and, well—”

“And you’re here.” And he loves her, and he doesn’t want to tell her in an itchy jumpsuit over a dirty jail phone, but it’s so true and so much that he’s not sure he’ll have a choice. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I’ve been told ten minutes and no discussions of ‘substance’,” she air-quotes around the word and his palms itch with how much he wants to touch her.

Eretson is standing by the door and Hiccup idly wonders if he has his gun or if he had to turn that in to step into his lawyer shoes. Either way, his presence feels protective, and Hiccup already told Astrid once that she shouldn’t be here, he can’t be expected to do that again. Not when she’s right across from him, not when it’s been so long since he’s seen a friendly face.

“That works for me, I don’t have anything of substance to talk about.” He shrugs and she smiles, soft and fond in a way he definitely doesn’t deserve. She’s obviously exhausted, the dark circles under her eyes making his chest ache even as the sight of her in his jacket lets him feel like he’s protecting her in some tiny way while he can’t do anything else. “How are you?”

“I’m fine, you?”

“I’m here.” It hurts more the second time.

“Yeah,” she looks back at Eretson for a second before scooting her chair closer to the glass, “that was a stupid question. You look like hell.”

“Thanks,” he wipes a hand over his stubble and his cheeks heat up.

“No, not—the beard is fine,” her smile is faint and secret and too far away, “it’s more just…” She waves her hand at him and he rolls his eyes.

“You just gestured to all of me.”

“All of you except your beard,” she clarifies before checking on Eretson again. She’s not built for levity in this kind of situation and he can see a serious depth sneaking back into her eyes. “Everything’s a mess.”

“Hey now, that sounds like ‘substance’,” he redirects, “how’s Snotlout?”

“When his shoulder is better to the point that I won’t literally kill him, I’m going to hit him sixty-seven separate times,” she sets her chin, resolute, “I have a tally.”

“Are you sure he’s ok? That sounds a little low.”

She laughs, a tinge of mischief clouding the worry in her expression, “he’s ok. He made a point yesterday to tell me his favorite story about you.”

“Oh God,” Hiccup’s stomach falls as his eyes widen, “what favorite story is that?”

“You know,” she tucks her hair behind her ear but it doesn’t stay, falling back against her flushing cheek, “some girl called you ‘Viggo’ and—”

“Yep, that one.” If Grisly came in right now and offered to kill him to make this easier, he might just let him. “Which version was it?”

“There are different versions?”

“No,” he drags his palm down his face, “not—I wish there were, every other Snotlout story is blown out of proportion so much it’s easy to call bullshit, but that one…he tells that story with unflinching accuracy and dedication to the truth.” He shakes is head, wishing he had a bucket of ice to put out the fire on his face, “sometimes there are sound effects, I’m shocked you’re here.”

“No sound effects,” she shakes her head, “maybe he’ll do those in court though, he seems to think he can prove your innocence.”

“I think I’d rather plead guilty than listen to Snotlout tell that story in court.” He laughs, but it brings Eretson’s plea deal back into his conscious mind. Just as a concept to get used to, as something neutral that takes up space in his brain until he decides what to do about it.

“Don’t even joke about that,” she whispers, crossing her legs and tapping an anxious foot in the air. “I’ve been looking at this from every angle and I haven’t found anything yet.”

“That’s definitely substance—”

“Eretson isn’t listening,” she mutters, “and if I don’t do something useful, I’m going to scream, I—”

“Hey, it’s ok,” he lies, and he can’t help thinking of Grisly’s promise, “you’re safe, that’s what matters—”

“That’s a copout,” she glares, tired and alive and his chest throbs, “there has to be something that we can do.”

“I can’t do anything,” he hates how bitter he sounds, honest for the first time in days, and something about Astrid’s solid expression is almost shocked, like she expected better or at least different of him. “I can barely keep the days straight, I—Hell, I told a psychologist that Viggo Grimborn is a hobby and now they think—well, I guess they already thought given that I’m here—”

“Hiccup,” she sighs, palm on the plexiglass, fingertips that he can’t touch smudged with ink and library dust.

“Eretson said that a trial could take months,” he leans his head on his hand, “and I know that, rationally. I know that big, newsworthy trials for serial killers take months to put together, but I guess—I don’t want to do this here.”

“Do what?”

“Anything.” Even he thinks he sounds pathetic now and Astrid’s frown turns disappointed, which is worse than just sad. “I just feel useless.”

“I can see that.” If it were pity in her voice, it would shut him down, but it’s not. It’s something different, something stronger. Something annoyed, and he realizes for the first time, she’s dragging him along a path of her choice, and him digging in his heel isn’t going to stop her.

He looks at her hand and his jumpsuit and his blurry reflection that he can see superimposed over her face on the plexiglass if he stares hard enough. He loves her. He thinks about that ill-fated breakfast run and what he’d be doing now if things had gone differently.

“I guess…I spent the last few years in complete stasis, just giving tours and knowing what every day would look like before it began. And then, well, you.” Then he fell in love with her. No, she changed everything before he did that, but that doesn’t make it sound any less corny. He wouldn’t have thought she was in the mood for corny, but her eyes soften slightly even as she holds her frown in place. He forces himself to keep talking so that he doesn’t backtrack over anything he hasn’t decided to say yet, “and I think for the first time in a while, I thought these next few months were going to be different.”

“How?” Of course she asks the question most likely to make him look like an idiot.

“Aside from well, you maybe being around I hope, umm,” he clears his throat and presses the phone closer to his ear to continue, “and well, I guess I have to finally figure out what I’m going to do with my life? Because it isn’t sensationalizing murders that are still destroying everything I love about this city even a hundred years on, and,” he swallows hard and laughs, a sharp, surprised sound, “and I think I was looking forward to it, almost. But now that’s not happening because my next few months are all booked up. Literally.”

“Well, you have plenty of time to think about it,” she tries and fails to cushion the statement and it makes him smile even as his heart sinks, heavy and exhausted and desperate.

What are the chances she’s still going to look at him like that after months?

“That’s true.”

“I’ll figure out how to book a conjugal trailer and we can work on your resume,” she offers, evidently satisfied with his suggested path forward. “

“You shouldn’t,” he tries to swallow against the knot in his throat when he thinks about her on jail property, alone with him, and Grisly’s promised intent rings in his ears. Months. What are the chances she can evade Grisly for months if she can’t go five days without ending up here? “It’s not safe.”

“I obviously need to, just a few days of this and you sound like Eretson.”

“Eretson’s right, Astrid.” He sighs and rubs his hand over his face. He could tell her. The NWF guard behind him couldn’t make a move with cameras and Eretson standing right there in the lobby. If he told her, then she’d know to run far away and—and he doesn’t now how deep Grisly’s cover goes.

“I can take care of myself.” Plus, looking at her fierce blue eyes, he knows that she wouldn’t run.

Months. Months of chances. Months of not seeing her every day, or at all, if she’s doing what’s best for herself. Months of limited information and fear that the next snippet that makes it through the bars on his cell will be bad.

He’s right, it is time to figure out what he’s going to do with his life, and while he has decidedly fewer choices than he thought he would, the answer is still obvious.

“Eretson’s right about a lot of things,” he sighs, hoping she’ll go easy on him and knowing that’s impossible, “he thinks I should take a plea deal.”

“I told you not to joke about that—”

“I’m not joking.” He shakes his head, taking in her furious expression. It’s slower blooming than normal, jaw flexing and setting forward before the blue fire is truly lit in her eyes. She’s tired, after five days, and she doesn’t now half of the truth. He loves her, and the only draw to finally getting his shit together is that he’d be doing it with her. He doesn’t get to do that now, but he can do something for her.

He could tell himself that he’s doing it for Snotlout or for whoever would be unlucky enough to cross Grisly’s path next, but since he’s already planning to lie himself into a prison sentence for a murder he didn’t commit, he should probably stick to the truth, at least internally.

“That decision is going to last more than months, Hiccup—”

“Yeah, and it’s about more than time.” He almost tells her then, but he’s not sure what good it would do when she’s staring at him with something like hatred. Too shocked, too sad, too helpless. She looks like she wants to smack some sense into him and he’d let her if it meant he could touch her before he takes this step he knows he can’t retreat from.

He wonders, briefly, if the real Viggo Grimborn ever thought about turning himself in. When the fervor died down and no one mentioned him in the paper anymore. Maybe he took a Victorian plea deal and got arrested for something else, something smaller, something forgiveable, but barely. And only to some.

If only Astrid didn’t forgive him for harassment, then he might have that ‘get out of trouble free’ card to spend now.

Except he wouldn’t need it then, because he would have done his community service and gone right back to giving tours, staying across the street to respect a fifty-yard boundary. No matter what, Astrid was destined to disrupt the monotony of his life, he just hoped one of the roads didn’t lead to a courtroom.

“Hiccup,” she says his name in a tone he doesn’t recognize, half-pleading and half-insulting, both uncomfortable for her. She opens her mouth again wordlessly, obviously unsure what to say to bring her pep talk back on track.

“You were right, there is something I can do.”

“No—”

“Visiting hours are over,” the NWF guard appears behind Hiccup, heavy hand on his shoulder as he looks at Astrid, recognition flickering in his otherwise brainwashed eyes. “Time’s up.”

“I’m not done here,” Astrid stands up, phone still pressed to her ear, glare dialed to the maximum even as Eretson steps into the room behind her and says something to get her attention.

“Let Eretson give you a ride,” Hiccup says, memorizing how her eyes on him feel, even through plexiglass, even furious and confused, “please.”

His cell is smaller than before. The bed is less comfortable, the walls colder, the single light in the ceiling flickering at just the right frequency to prevent him from thinking. His jumpsuit is itchy and his back is either too tense to hurt, or the sensation is entirely drowned out by the dull throbbing in his chest. Most of the time, when people sacrifice themselves for the greater good, it’s faster than this. It’s jumping in front of a bullet, not waiting alone for hours to invoke due process like a spell.

He can’t say he’s surprised when the door to the hallway opens, and he’s definitely not surprised to see Grisly, monochromatic and rigid, danger stuffed carefully out of sight for the time being. Hiccup’s relief is palpable and gruesome, he hates knowing what the man looks like after a kill, but he’s glad to know that this sober expression isn’t it.

“I heard Astrid visited today,” Grisly’s smile blooms slowly as he steps out of range of the hallway cameras and Hiccup rolls his eyes.

“Yeah? Did a little birdie tell you?”

“I trust you didn’t tell her anything sensitive,” he gloats, a cat pinning a mouse’s tail down and watching it struggle.

But Hiccup isn’t struggling, not anymore. He’s not trying to escape, he’s steering into the skid. He’s a mouse full of rat poison, ready to dive into the belly of the beast.

“Oh, so you can’t get the recordings from those visiting phones? Eretson was wondering about that, thanks for the tip.” He jokes, voice even, and Grisly straightens his uniform. Hiccup wonders if he designed the NWF uniforms himself, and the thought strikes him as kind of pathetic. Less of a wolf in sheep’s clothing and more of an institutional fanboy, a blatant self-insert too self-conscious to be believable.

At least when Hiccup puts on an act, he gets real antiques. He commits.

“I just thought I’d remind you of her…precarious situation.” It’s bluster, painted on thick and smudged before it could dry into armor.

“Trust me, I couldn’t forget it if I tried.”

“Good,” Grisly’s smile is cracked around the edges, veneer wearing thin after a long day at an office job he hates, “you seem to be taking something seriously for once. You know, maybe all of this has been good for you.”

“The legal system is supposed to rehabilitate people after all,” Hiccup shrugs, on the weird end of a paternal lecture from someone he respects so little that he feels the need to make it clear. “Maybe I’ll finally be an upstanding citizen when this is all over.”

“Upstanding,” Grisly’s lip curls, eyes manic and alive for just a second before he wipes has hands on his pants and selects one key off of his keyring, “if it keeps your spirits up…”

“Oh yeah, I’m downright chipper,” Hiccup nods, “catching up on my sleep. So, if you don’t mind,” he points at the evening sky outside and fakes a yawn.

Grisly grits his teeth, feral for a second, canine too sharp, “of course. Can I get you anything else while I’m being so accommodating?”

“I think I’m good for now,” Hiccup waves him towards the door, “I’ll let you know though.”

Grisly leaves then, shoulders rigid, and Hiccup hates how the silence makes him wish he’d dragged out the conversation longer. He tells himself that this will be over soon and tries to think about his new tour, a thrilling, courtroom-based tale of murder and eventual, inevitable betrayal.

#ripped #httyd fic #hiccstrid #modern au #hiccstrid fic #serial killer tour guide au #we'er here now and it's weird

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bits-bobs-and-barnes · 5 years ago

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Second Chance {Tony Stark x Reader}

This is Part Three in the Stark Internship series! Read Part One Here, and read Part Two here!

Tags: @vxidnik @madampomfrcy @rebeccaitsnotwhatyouthink @sbmarvel @can-you-actuallynot @thevanishedillusion @classyunknownlover @thatisthemagic @httphiddlestan @ur-honey-child @queenylime @ggclarissa @bethanylaw @godohammers @kasiarella @thebabewithoutthearms @jilldsumner @bellamyblakemorley

Warnings: mentions of guns

{Author’s Note: Sorry for the wait! I’ve been trying to make sure this part was a perfect addition to the series and spent a little extra on quality control. Hope you enjoy, and remember to like and reblog!}

You bobbed the pen between your lips, focused intently on the monitor to your left as your hands moved of their own accord. You’d gotten more than your fair share of shocks since starting this small project, working with such intricate wiring on such a small scale didn’t lend itself to human error, but you were confident that you-

“Y/N!”

You jumped, and cursed under your breath as you felt another tiny shock rip through your hands. “Steve.” You were half-exasperated, “if you want me to finish this for you and the team, I need time to work.”

He smiled sheepishly, but leaned on the counter next to your work-bench, peering at the monitor that had captured your attention for the past few days. “T’Challa invited us to dinner, and though I know what you’ll say,” he gave you a look, hearkening back to past conversations about your lack of self-care, “I thought I’d make an effort to invite you, and formally beg you to come spend some time with your friends.”

You sighed, pulling the pen from between your lips, and stepping back, turning to him, diverting your attention from the project that had been your saving grace these past few months. “You know why I don’t want to go, so don’t start with this guilt-trip now.”

He rolled his eyes, approaching your work-bench now, and examining the inner workings of the small device. “Shuri could help you. Any of us could. You don’t have to be alone,” his voice was soft, comforting, and his hand moved to come to rest over your shoulder.

“I like the quiet,” you returned, “and I like having something that’s mine, my project, that I can really sink my teeth into.” You picked at an imaginary piece of lint on your jacket, “but, if it really means that much to you, I can come to dinner tonight.”

His smile was instantaneous, bright, and warm, immediately engulfing you in a one-armed hug. “Good, I was getting worried I’d have to hook you up to an IV,” he joked, allowing the tension and worry to seep out of his posture. “We’ll get something special to celebrate, Y/N.”

You smiled back, but couldn’t fight the feeling that raising a big fuss over something as simple as you taking a break would only exacerbate the feelings of loneliness that gnawed at your chest. You missed Peter, you missed May, you even missed some of your college friends more than you could bear. But, when Steve had contacted you, and you had flown to Germany, you’d committed a federal crime. You doubted you could ever go home, not without some serious repercussions.

But, you’d certainly take serious prison time over an awkward dinner with the Wakandan nobles and your teammates.

“Look who’s emerged from her cave,” Natasha teased, looking effortlessly regal in a slim fitting evening gown. “I was beginning to forget what you looked like.” She moved forward to embrace you, offering a soft word of encouragement in your ear: “I’m glad you joined us tonight.”

You were hard-pressed to offer a polite smile, easing around her to take your seat besides Steve. You weren’t uncomfortable with the upscale cuisine, per se, you enjoyed trying new things, and everything that graced T’Challa’s dining table was practically fit for a god. It was more the little looks you received, the ignorant remarks about you being shy or reclusive, and the general aura that there was something special about you being there.

Dinner passed without much incident, other than a few forced laughs as your teammates (even now the word felt strange) tried their best to make you comfortable and content, without knowing the slightest bit about you. You returned to your lab, and began to poke at the small device again, happy with the quiet state of your lab and again beginning to fiddle with the wiring.

“Come on...” you mumbled with impatience, making the last connection and practically feeling it buzz to life in your hands. You beamed, closing the cover and placing it in a small carrying case, running out of your lab and down the hall, beginning to search for Steve to test the device; something you’d been waiting on for weeks.

The whole building seemed quiet and empty, and subconsciously, you frowned. It wasn’t usual for everyone to retire so quickly, the bar was empty, the living room was empty, he wasn’t in his bedroom!

You continued nearly to the front door, and stopped dead in place.

Tony and Steve were standing there, quietly discussing something in hushed tones, which immediately stopped once you appeared.

“Y/N!” Steve greeted softly, stepping just in front of Tony to break your line of sight, looking to the device in your hands. “Is it done?”

You didn’t answer, staring at Tony with a numbness you hadn’t expected. “What are you doing here? What is he doing here?” You inquired, your voice presenting your shock like a badge of honor.

“He’s here to help, Y/N-”

Tony cut him off, his expression oozing the same mixture of hurt and disbelief as it had in Germany. “Like always, I’m here to save your ass.” He crossed his arms, covering his pain with arrogance. “Peter misses you.”

Your expression quickly twisted into something more fiery, insults and barbs coming to your tongue like a broken dam.

“Stop!” Steve put a handle on it before it begun. “It’s late, Y/N, let’s test it,” he gestured to the box, “and get to bed. We can hash it out in the morning.” He rubbed his brow like the past ten minutes had stolen ten years from his life.

“Fine.” You turned your back on him, and began to walk back towards your lab. Anger bubbled in your chest, bringing heat to your cheeks as you remembered every sleight he’d ever committed, filled with the desire to throw them back in his face. When you finally reached your lab, you turned to receive Steve, and offer a side-glare to Tony. “In this stage of development, it should be ready for field use-”

“What’s it called?” Tony interjected, examining the small pin as you laid it out on the counter.

You jaw tightened, and you were tempted to ignore him all together. “It’s called Second Chance,Tony.” Once he was satisfied, you continued. “In the other tests there were problems with the unit’s defense and size, but this time around, it’s small enough to fit on a lapel.” You looked to Steve, “do you want to test this version too?”

“I will,” Tony offered, stepping forward and pinning the device haphazardly to his suit jacket. “What happens now?”

You glanced over to Steve for a second, and reached into the drawer beside your sink, pulling out a handgun, and handing it off to the super-soldier. “We test to see how bulletproof you really are.”

#tony stark #tony x reader #tony stark x reader #tonystarkxreader #tony stark imagine #marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel imagine

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