#take my hand. join me in the grid. its gonna be okay | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

vinvantae · 5 months ago

Note

Could you write the f1 grid reactions to their girlfriend enjoying privacy and not wanting to be in the spotlight at gps? Like for example choosing to go to the regular audience instead of the garage to watch races etc to avoid excessive cameras? If you don't want to do all could you do either Charles, Lewis, or Lando?

I won’t do all the drivers because I think there’s only so many reactions but I will do the three you’ve requested 🥰 sorry for the delay I’ve had a lot of stuff on recently!

***

Charles

Charles watched from across the room as you pulled your Ferrari cap over your head, adjusting it so you could slip your sunglasses on and off with ease. The two of you had been together for nearly two years now, but you had still never set foot inside the paddock - and whilst he understood your reasons, the selfish part of him really wanted you there this weekend. He was starting his home race from P1 and he was positive he had a real shot this year.

He cautiously stepped towards you, taking your hips in his hands so he could press a soft kiss to your shoulder.

“Are you sure I can’t convince you to join me in the garage, mon ange?” He hummed, resting his cheek against yours as you met his eyes in the mirror.

“Mhmm, I quite like being surrounded by your adoring fans.” You giggled, tilting your head so he could press kisses to your neck. “The roars of Monegasque feel all the more thrilling when you’re a part of it. Their home hero starting on pole? No way I’m missing out on that.”

Charles let you turn in his arms, your arms coming up to loop around his neck - you couldn’t help but smile at the fond look in his eyes as he looked at you. He really wished you were going to be at the barriers, so he could wrap you up in his arms when he finally won, but he knew all the cameras in your face would be too much for you.

“I’ll always respect your decision to enjoy the race from the grandstands, as long as you know if you ever change your mind, there’s a special spot in the back of my garage just for you.” His voice was soft as he nudged his nose against yours. “If they get too rowdy-”

“Charles, I’ll be okay… now, go win for me.”

Lewis

Being a 7 time world champion definitely came with its privileges - but privacy was not one of them. So keeping his relationship close to his chest was not only important to him but to you. You loved him more than words could ever describe, but the idea of walking through all of the press holding his hand was still daunting to you - so you preferred to support him nestled away in the crowds. In your 5 years together, somehow, you’d never been “exposed”, so blending in was easy.

Lewis was by no means ashamed of you, in fact, he was filled with nothing but pride when he spoke of you - but being able to keep his personal life private, out of the grasps of the greedy, was important to him as well. He spent his days with every movement, every word being picked apart by the media and he wanted to be able to protect you from it all.

“You could at least wear my merch, babe.” He laughed softly, as you emerged from the bathroom, donned in another team’s merchandise, holding his hands out for you to take. “How am I gonna do well knowing you’re in the crowd wearing that?”

You scoffed playfully, taking his hands, looking down at him from where he was sitting on the edge of the bed. “I am wearing something for you… just for your eyes though.”

He quirked a brow, removing his hands from yours to hook his fingers into your waistband, pulling it away just enough to see his trademark colour against your skin hidden underneath. A groan left his lips and he lent his forehead against your middle.

“So…” you purred. “You gonna race well knowing what your prize is?”

“Fuck yes.”

Lando

Neon yellow was not your colour. When Lando first showed it to you, you weren’t sure it was anyone’s colour, but as you strolled through Silverstone - it seemed that it was everyone’s. You smiled softly to yourself as you adjusted your own hat, sidling up the grandstands to find your seat - nestled in between a group of Lando’s fans, who very quickly pulled you into the fray once they realised you were alone.

You’d ended up getting a seat at Luffield corner, not expecting your boyfriend’s car during the parade to pull up to be interviewed by Natalie. There was no way he’d ever know you were here - you told him you couldn’t make it, but in reality you wanted to enjoy it from the crowds.

The giggles that escaped you as his t-shirt cannon failed dramatically, made your heart swell. He’d come so far in the years you’d known him and to see him so adored was really special. You fished your phone out of your pocket when it buzzed, his name lighting up your screen, just moments before you knew he had to get into the car.

Miss u x

You smiled softly, turning as you felt a gentle tap on your shoulder. The girl smiled gently albeit a little awkwardly at you. “Hi, sorry, you’re y/n, Lando’s girlfriend, right?”

“That’s me.” You chuckled.

“How come you’re out here instead of in there?” She asked, her voice laced with curiosity, not judgement.

You turned a little in your chair to face her better. “Wanted to enjoy the race from the grandstands, I’ve always loved the atmosphere and just because I’m dating him I didn’t want to stop.”

She gave you a knowing nod. “That’s absolutely fair. Well, when you see him, can you tell him I said hi?”

“Hey, how about we all send him a good luck selfie? He’s probably not got his phone anymore but he’ll see it after the race.” You beamed.

Everyone crowded around you and you took a photo - their smiles practically lighting up the screen. You knew Lando would love it, so you sent it back.

We’re all rooting for you <3 You’ve got this!x

Lando was a little disappointed not to win the race, especially at home - he’d managed to hang on to the lead just for a little while, but it just wasn’t enough. All he wanted was to wrap himself up in your arms and feel sorry for himself for not being able to hold onto the lead, but you weren’t here. When he finally got a moment of peace, he checked his phone - eyes widening at the selfie.

You were here, nestled amongst the floods of neon - your smile somehow brighter. He tapped on your name to call you, tapping his foot against the floor - biting at the skin around his fingernails.

“Hi Lando.” Your voice sounded like a dream.

“How come you didn’t tell me you were here.” He knew he sounded whiny but he didn’t care, he needed you with him ASAP. “Could’ve watched from the garage… given me a good luck kiss.”

“Well, looks like you didn’t need it. You raced amazingly today, baby, I’m so proud of you… maybe I’ll meet you back at your hotel, show you how proud I am?”

Lando couldn’t help but jut his bottom lip out a little. “Sure I can’t tempt you to come to the garage?”

“I’m sure. Too flashy for me. I love you, see you in a little while.”

“I love you too. Bye babe.” He smiled to himself, hanging up the phone - holding it to his chest.

As much as he’d wished you were in the garage, he loved the part of you that wanted to enjoy races from the grandstands - experience the race how you wanted, not just using your relationship to waltz around the paddock.

Now… he just had to find the quickest way back to the hotel.

#f1 fic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #charles leclerc x reader #lewis hamilton x reader #lando norris x reader

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steviebunny · 3 years ago

Text

Till' The End of Time

Chapter 4

Randy's donuts

Inglewood CA: 2011

Nicholas Fury and Anthony Stark sit across from each other within the donut shop, the latter head in hand, with sunglasses resting upon his face obviously hungover.

"I told you I don't wanna join your super-secret boy band."

Fury chuckles a bit before replying "No, no, no. See, I remember, you do everything yourself. How's that working out for you?"

Rhodey drags a stumbling Stark into the shared bathroom, dropping him on the (for now) closed toilet seat, Lenora and Natal- Natasha. Following close behind.

He cracks open a bottle of ginger ale and puts it in Tony's reach.

"We need a plan."

"Huh?" The intoxicated one of the group questions, slowly sobering up.

"We need a plan. The four of us. This can't keep happening. So we need a plan, to keep you alive. Safe. And y'know not a fugitive."

Tony's hands come up to rub at his eyes, struggling to adjust to the harsh bathroom light, Lenora sees his discomfort and dims the light, and returns to the corner of the bathroom. Her back pressed to the wall.

"Oh okay."

Rhodey sighs, knees buckling as he sits on the edge of the tub face to face with his mate.

"You aren't in a mental state to contribute right now, so as your husband I'm taking the reigns here. In the morning I'm taking the War Machine armor to the airfield tomorrow, the Senate will get off our backs for a little so that's one last thing to worry about. Tomorrow you will wake up at a reasonable time after you've slept... This off. You and Lenora will go to Shield Headquarters and you will hear out director Fury. As great as Jarvis is there are blocks not even his search engine can surpass. If anyone knows what can save you it will be him or someone he had connections with."

"He won’t need to."

"What."

"He won't need to, Fury will find him. Wherever even if it's somewhere he’ll hate Fury will fine Tony and meet him there."

"Natalie what are you-"

"Her name isn't Natalie, it's Natasha. And she's not from legal. She's from shield." Lenora's voice cuts through, getting straight to the point leaving the men in the room stunned at the revelation.

" You should go to Randy's- Fury's all uptight. He'll hate it there." She suggested.

"Not wrong about that." The spy concurs.

James releases a breath and Tony looks at him like a lost puppy "looks like we have a plan.'" he says, lightly lifting his arms. Not having enough energy to even question the spy's intentions.

"It's...it's...it's.." Tony can't finish his sentence, bringing his coffee up to his lips. Subconsciously kicking himself. "I'm sorry I don't wanna get off on the wrong foot, do I look at the patch or the eye? Honestly, I'm very hungover and I don't know... if-id you're real-"

"I am very real, and trust me the state of you did not go by unnoticed- Romanoff made sure you'd be comfortable. why do you think there was already a coffee waiting for you when you got here? I sure as hell didn't order it for you."

"Sorry, Romanoff?"

"Your soulmate."

"Oh of course sorry, Natalie. Still getting used to the whole 'my identity was fake the entire time' thing I suppose."

"I'm the realest person you're ever gonna meet." Fury continues.

"Just my luck, where's the staff here?" Stark question turning his head to look to the rest of the empty establishment, accidentally exposing his palladium-infused veins over the crest of the neck of his armor.

Fury reaches over poking at the skin, noting its discoloration and grid-like pattern, "That's not looking so good."

"I've been worse," Tony admits honestly, taking another sip of his drink as footsteps of a one so very special Agent Romanoff, can be heard coming closer.

"We've secured the perimeter but I don't think we should hold it for too much longer." She addresses only her superior. Leaving but only a glance to the seat in which her mate is currently.

He looks to her over the rim of his sunglasses, "you're fired."

She smirks "that's not up to you."

As agent fury motions for her to sit, he speaks again. "Tony I want you to meet agent Romanoff. Once we were alerted of your illness she was tasked to shadow and profile you. You’re current... Romantic standing wasn't taken into account. I hope you can understand."

"Oh yeah. Of course. 100%, So what do you want from me?"

Nat gets up again walking to grab something from another side of the room, "What do I want from you?" Fury snorts. "It's not what I want from you, it's what you want from me. You aren't the center of my universe Stark, I have bigger problems to deal with-"

"Oh like torturing my wife."

"There are protocols Stark, it's not because of personal preference, I have to follow guidelines. Right now though. You are the problem, a problem I have to deal with. I have bigger problems in the southwest region I should be dealing with.- Hit em."

Tony's retort is interrupted by a sharp stabbing sensation in the side of his neck. He looks over at the offending figure, Natasha holding a thick metal syringe- "oh god you're gonna steal my kidney and sell it?

Stark groans at the influx of whatever was just pumped into him, his mate slaps his face lightly- something he normally wouldn't be too opposed to excluding present circumstances, Natasha grabs him by the chin tilting his head, giving herself and Director Fury a better look at the fading in Tony's veins. Her eyes meet his as he lightly pleads, "Could you please not do anything awful for five seconds?"

"What did she just do to me?"

"What did we just do for you?."

Lenora and the bots are in the living room currently trying to clean up a majority of the mess, each of them with different sizes brooms and dustpans trying to limit the amount of glass in the given space

The sound of synchronous footsteps and the familiar clunking of the ironman suit breaks her out of her thoughts looking up she sees one of her husband's in stride with the man who helped collar her like an animal. She wants to be upset, outraged even, but Tony raises a finger to his lips signaling her to be quiet. She trusts him, so for now she'll let him escort the man and his bodyguards through their home like a guest... The pair sit upon two chairs already swept away from the damage, overlooking the mountain range.

Lenora can hear her husband asking Jarvis to remove and store the armor leaving him in his morning clothes and robe as she shoos her boys away, for now, they're innocent the last thing they need right now is to see mommy and daddy fight if things go south.

"-Just him? Or was Anton Vanko in this, too?"

"Anton Vanko is the other side of that coin. Anton saw it as a way to get rich. When your father found out he had him deported.."

Tony and Lenora can both be heard scoffing at that, then each of them knowing Howard’s true intentions weren't so far off from the other man's, he was just smarter and greedier.

"...When the people he was working for found out he couldn’t deliver, they shipped his ass off to Siberia. He spent the next 20 years in an alcohol-fueled rage. Not quite the environment you want to raise a kid in."

Now that Tony and Lenora both knew a bit too well, some things just hit a bit too close to home, but I guess you could say Tony and Lottie are opposite sides of a coin on that. Both were emotionally, mentally abused, and neglected by alcohol-dependent parental figures, Tony grew to resent, and even hate his father, Lenora just feels pity for what memories of her parents and their life she remembers.

"You told me I haven’t tried everything? What haven't I tried?"

"That's for you to solve... I can't give you all the answers. I've got to get going I have a 2, o'clock.' 'A case is brought in and placed in front of Tony rousing a handful of questions from the man' "I'm sure you remember Agent Coulson, Natasha will remain a floater for Stark industries and seeing as you're... Well, the situation you all keep to regarding your personal lives is none of my business."

He walks further, practically right up to where Lottie stands amongst the rubble, looking the man in the eye as he says "And Tony. Remember, I've got my eye on you." A thinly veiled threat targeted not only to him but to agent Romanoff as well, Shield was clearly an organization not shy to use soulmates well being to keep others in the line.

Tony stands in his workstation, viewing the projection of the 1974 Stark Expo curiously, the transparent blue of the projection radiating in the darkroom. He's broken out of his thoughts by the clink of ceramic on the lab table.

"Again with the bucket?"

"It's not a bucket, it's a mug."

He looks over at his wife, bringing his own (thankfully normal-sized) mug to his lips. "Baby girl, this- 'he raises his' "is a mug. That is a bucket. No mug should be the size of a watermelon."

"It's not the size of a watermelon." Lottie whines, "Aren't you supposed to be working?"

"Yeah. Yeah. Jarvis, how many buildings are there?" He motions to raise the projection of its physical structure.

"Am I to include the Belgian Waffle stands?" The British voice asks mockingly.

"That was rhetorical. Just show me."

With a snap of the man's fingers, the projection spins and turns vertically, the individual buildings becoming more highlighted and prominent. The overhead view, focussing on the center of the property.

"What does that look like to you, Jarvis? Not... Unlike an atom, in which case the nucleus would be here. Highlight the Unisphere."

He brings his hands in and out, yellow strings following along with each of his fingertips, "Lose the footpaths, get rid of them." He swipes his hand across the screen sharply throwing the unnecessary features away.

"What are you looking for Tones?"

"I think... I'm rediscovering an element....lose the landscape, the shrubbery, and the trees. Parking lots, exits- entrances." He flicks, pushes, and shoves all the excessive pieces away. "Structure the protons, and neutrons, using the pavilions as a framework."

Tony suddenly smacks his hands to his face groaning out a subtle 'dad', his fist stops at his mouth where he lightly bites on his knuckles. Dum-e, U, and Butterfingers crowding around their mother watching in awe. Tony repeated his hand movements from before, expanding the atom-like element.

It exploded into hundreds of miniature atoms, brushing across the room, in beautiful blue shades.

"Dead for almost 20 years and somehow he still manages to take me to school..."

"The proposed element should serve as a viable replacement for palladium."

"Thanks, Howard" Lottie speaks quietly, earning a smirk from her husband.

"Unfortunately it is impossible to synthesize."

"Is it?"

"Oh no."

"Oh yes."

"Darling, why is it every time you make some sort of breakthrough we have to destroy the home."

Tony laughs out at that, "Helps me think. Get ready for a major remodel, fellas! We're back in hardware mode." He yells out for Jarvis and his sons, signaling the four to begin preparations.

After practically destroying the lab Tony Stark had managed to discover or rather re-discover an element. Something supposedly lost to time, Vibranium.

"Tony I'm so sorry, I never thought of it before, all of my books. Everything I learned in university- it called Vibranium a myth, a story lost to time- that's why I've never mentioned it... I- i- thought it wasn't real." Lenora explains pleadingly, slightly ashamed of herself for not having been able to help sooner.

"Baby girl it's okay, you couldn't have known...but look, it's made. We have it now... There are a few more kinks to work out in the design, In figuring out how it can properly be implemented. But I replicated it. It's done. I- where's it from anyway."

"Wakanda"

"Wakanda... how did? How would Dad have gotten a handle on an element from Africa?"

"Well... There are a few possibilities, but if the limited writing about Wakanda from my Textbooks is true, I doubt he got his hands on it respectfully..."

"Remind me to reach out to the Wakandan embassy then, there's something suspicious about all of this. I doubt Fury would give us the full story."

"DUM-E, U. Can we clean up this mess" the former turns, tilting his 'head' to his father, confused. "You're killing me... I know, I don't ... "

Tony's exasperation is cut off by the ringing of his phone.

"Incoming call with a blocked number, sir."

"My phone privilege is reinstated, lovely. Coulson, how's the land of enchantment?"

The thick rasp of an obviously not Phil Coulson comes through the other side "Hey, Tony how you doing? Haha. I double cycle."

"You what?"

"You told me double cycle's more power. Good advice."

"You sound pretty sprightly for a dead guy."

"You, too."

Tony sighs deeply, pushing the mute button on his end, then directing Jarvis to begin a trace on the call.

"Now the true history of Stark Name will be written."

" Jarvis where is he?"

The A.I promptly responds, "Accessing the Oracle grid. Eastern Seaboard."

"What your father did to my family, over 40 years, I will do to you in 40 minutes."

"Sounds good. Let's get together and hash it out."

"Tri-State area. Manhattan and outlying boroughs." JARVIS's voice chimes in yet again.

"I hope you're ready," Vanko says finally, the dial tone of a hung-up call then rings out across the lab.

"Call trace incomplete."

Tony releases a breath he'd been holding in, glancing over at a set of screens prominently showcasing infographics of the Stark Expo, Justin Hammers face plastered on the very front page.

Tony shoots up, grabbing his newly modified reactor core and shoving it into his chest cavity much to JARVIS's dismay

"You wanna run some tests, run 'em. And assemble the suit while you're at it. Put it together now. Lottie went to get in contact with the royal family of Wakanda, she's on hold with the embassy don't bother her." He demands, having to have increased his breathing rate at the sudden rush of energy now flowing through him.

"We are unclear as to the effect of..."

"I don't want to hear it, Jarvis".

Anthony coughs and gags a bit, the new Vibranium core taking some getting used to.

"Bleghh. That tastes like ...coconut. and metal... Oh, wow yeah!" He screams as the blue of the reactor continues to get brighter and brighter.

Justin Hammer stays dancing and hollering upon a stage, making a fool of himself as he introduces his line of defensive drones for the use of the American military. Colonel James Rhodes stands still, silent, in the War Machine armor unfortunately roped into being a part of the presentation

"For America and its allies, Hammer Industries is reporting for... "

The spiel is interrupted by the loud roaring engines heard above the Expo, A red and gold streak in the sky slows as it approaches the stage. Iron Man- in all his glory has arrived.

"We got trouble." He says, striding towards his husband.

"Tony there are civilians present."

Stark ignores the statement acting as if nothing's wrong. Hammer runs across the stage, screaming and shouting in faux excitement to get a rise out of the crowd.

"Give me a wave, pretend like everything's fine. All these people are in danger. We gotta get them out of here. You gotta trust me."

"I always trust you."

"Listen, I think he's working with Vanko."

"Vanko's alive?"

Tony turns striding to the shortest man on stage, "Where is he?"

"Who?"

"Tell me."

"What are you doing here man?"

The pair are stopped both hearing James's voice flowing in their direction.

"Whoa, Whoa, Whoa.".

The arm cannon of the sliver suit is engaged against the will of its internal residence, locking on the engineer.

"Is that you?"

Prompting his husband to swear under his breath now obviously out of control in his current situation.

"No, I'm not doing that. That's not me...I can't move. I'm locked up I'm locked up! GET OUT OF HERE. GO! This whole system is compromised." Rhodes' eyes drift across his internal screens,- the code somehow switching from its peaceful green to a malicious red, lines and lines of the script running up with each attempt to break free from Vanko's control.

Tony takes the man's advice and initiates his blasters, jetting off to the sky "Let's take this outside." He says Terrified screams of running bystanders are heard radiating through the expo hall. After a final burst of energy, Iron Man shoots up through the dome’s opening, the rest of the armors machines pointing up to shoot at him as he goes. Effectively shattering the glass ceiling.

Against his will, Rhodey's engines engage propelling him upward and charging after his husband. "No! No!"

"Jarvis break-in. I need to own him. More than I already do."

"Yes, sir."

"Tony, Tony I'm locked on! I have target lock, I can't turn it off."

"On what?"

"On you!" He manages to yell out just before the arm engages, shooting hundreds of bullets at the titanium armor.

"Tony, on your six!"

The pair fly around the surrounding properties, the war machine armor occasionally firing at glass and metal. The two suits race each other for survival.

Meanwhile, within the Expo Hall, Vanko's modified droids begin wandering on their own, following their master’s directives. Running in synchronicity.

Justin Hammer runs backstage to the staff of the exposition in a state of panic, "What's going on what's happening?"

"The software's being overridden."

"What? What do you mean it's been overridden? What does that mean?"

"I think he slaved the drones."

"That's impossible, call the guards."

"All the phones are down, sir."

"Then call their cells."

"Cell phones aren't working either sir. He's locked us out of the mainframe. "

Pepper Potts and Natasha Romanoff run up to the desks shrouded in monitors, "Who's locked you out of the mainframe?" The blonde woman asks.

"Please, please go away, I've got this handled." Hammer practically begs of the women.

"Have you now?"

"Yes, I do. In fact, if your guy hadn't shown up, this wouldn't be happening. So please now, go away. Thank you." He crouches down to the analyst’s level whispering "listen we gotta get these bitches out of here."

Completely unaware of the fact the shield agent was approaching him from behind- snapping his arm behind his back and rotating it pushing him forward and pinned to the table as soon as she made contact.

"You tell me who's behind this! Who's behind this?" She growls out in his face, not only influenced by her training but now by the sudden influx of adrenaline that comes with knowing two of her mates are in danger.

She pushes harder into his shoulder forcing a cry of pain from the man

"Ivan. Ivan Vanko."

"Where is he?"

" He's at my facility."

Natasha steps out of the silver Audi, having had changed into a less movement restricting tank top, and athletic SHIELD issued pants, topped with a storage-friendly utility belt, and gun holster. Hair secured back into a quick military-style bun.

Ready to invade the facility she's stopped by Happy just before reaching the door.

"Stay in the car."

"I'm not staying in the car." The bodyguard responds indignantly.

"Stay in the car."

"Look I'm not letting you go in there alone." He tells her, watching her pull a device out of her utility belt and put it to the door’s padlock- taking only seconds for it to crack the passcode.

"You want to help, keep the car running."

"Okay." He responds but instead of heading in the opposite direction, he grabs onto the door handle before she can and thrusts himself inside before she can tell him otherwise.

The pair are approached by a bodyguard intending on keeping that at bay, but Hogan punches him before he has the chance.

Nat runs through a pair of glass doors where she is face to face with another guard, she ducks under the man's arm as he directs a swing to her face- she drops down on a knee, keeping herself balanced, and throws to small tazers at the man- incapacitating him.

She turns making her way further down the corridor. As a third guard rounds the corner, she pushed the leftover cleaning cart in his direction, effectively stopping him- hitting him right in the gut, the stunned man barely makes a grasp of the situation before Natasha hooks her leg around his, bringing him to his knees and directing a swift punch to the base of his skull putting him down for the count.

She dashes past the next guard, sliding through his spread legs. Hand grasping his ankle throwing him off balance, falling on his ass, the next in line tries to run after her and she uses the fallen over man as a body shield pushing the both of them together and stumbling to the floor as their heads collided hitting the tile.

The redhead sneaks down the hallway, hugging the walls as the final guard makes his way trying to find her, she comes up behind him. Pepper spraying him in the eyes as he turns around, she takes his momentary blindness to her advantage and pushes through the next set of doors.

Happy having finally caught up to her is a few paces behind, yet still able to see as she kicks the door open, a set of pistols in hand ready to shoot if necessary.

The door swings open and she cocks the weapons but upon further inspection, it becomes obvious the lair had been long since abandoned.

"He's gone."

"What are you doing?" The tan man questions seeing Natasha approach the computer in the room, she may not know much about coding but SHIELD knows enough about the way the War Machine suit for her to help fix Vanko's mess.

"Rebooting Rhodey's suit."

Masterlist

Chapter 5

@niffala @americasass81 @nsfwsebbie

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trashyswitch · 3 years ago

Text

Day 2: The Anticipation

Roman and Remus are having a tickle fight. Janus joins, and Roman gets completely ruined.

Tickletober #2 baby! Let's keep it going!

Remus was tickling Roman on the couch, going at his little weak points to prove a specific point:

“You have a weakness!” Remus told him. “And any bad guy and dragonwitch can see it from a mile away~”

“DOHOHOHO NAHAHAHAT!” Roman yelled back.

“Ooooh reeeally?” Remus reacted, seeing right through his bullshit.

Remus grabbed onto Roman’s hips and….waited.

Roman giggled and looked down, looking to see what he was doing.

“Iiii’m gonna getcha!” Remus teased.

“No you won’t!” Roman spat. “BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” Roman immediately bursted out laughing and kicked his feet all over the place.

“Yes I will! And I will tickle you till you pee!” Remus told him.

Remus grabbed onto Roman’s hips, and PUSHED in. This made Roman’s laughter raise and raise in volume and pitch!

“STAHAHAHAHAP IHIHIHIT’S SOHOHOHOOOO BAHAHAHAHAD!” Roman begged.

Remus then stopped the tickles and lifted Roman’s arm up. “Iiiii’m gonna getcha! Iiiiii’m gonna getcha!” Remus teased.

“Nohohoho!” Roman begged.

“All you gotta tell me is that yooouuuu…” Remus’s fingers got closer and closer. “...have a weakness.”

Roman shook his head. “Nohoho wahahahay!”

Remus sighed and brought his fingers inches closer to the armpits. “When will you ever learn?”

Remus finally skittered his fingers into Roman’s armpit. But the tickles only lasted a few seconds before stopping and moving his fingers back to inches from Roman’s armpit. They were still wiggling. “How about now? Ready to tell me now?” Remus asked.

Roman shook his head, and another bout of laughter filled the room for a few seconds before the laughter turned into giggles of anticipation.

“Neheheheveheheher!” Roman ordered.

Another fit of laughter filled the room as Remus tickled Roman’s armpit yet again.

“We can keep this up aaaallll day if you want to. Is that what you really want?” Remus warned.

“YOHOHOU ARE SOHOHO GOHOHONNA GEHEHEHET IHIHIT!” Roman shouted to him.

“Ooooh! I should be the one saying those words! You are so gonna get all the tickles coming your way!” Remus teased, tickling the armpit hairs to tease him further.

Roman whined and tried to hide his face in his raised arm. But the moment Remus noticed that, he tickled his armpit. Roman’s strong laughter filled the room yet again.

“Now: Do you have a weakness?” Remus asked before stopping.

“NOHohohoho!” Roman replied.

“Looks like this is gonna last a while then!” Remus started tickling him again, making Roman’s laughter fill the room for the millionth time that hour.

“STAHAHAHAHAP!”

“I’ll only stop if you tell me you have a weakness. You have to beat your ego in order to stop the torture!” Remus teased.

Janus showed up beside Remus and smiled with an apple in his hand. “Not bad Remus...not bad.”

“Thank you Jay!” Remus replied.

“Now: How about I hold the arms up while you tickle both?” Janus offered.

AW HELL NAW!

“NOHOHOHO DON’TYOUFUCKING DAHAHAHAHAHARE!” Roman shouted.

Remus stopped tickling and nodded. “Okay!”

Janus took his place above Roman and lifted up both of Roman’s arms. He held them down for Remus, while Remus summoned two electric toothbrushes and brought them closer to Roman’s armpits. But they weren’t quite touching...only inches away…

Roman shrieked like a 2 year old and shook his head and body around. “DON’T YOU FUHUCKING DAHAHAHARE!”

“Ohohoho, I dare! I dare dare dare to get closer! So that all you’re feeling is the vibrations of the brushes reeeaaaally close to your armpits~” Remus teased.

Remus really did just that: He brought the toothbrushes so close to his armpits that the armpit hairs were being tickled with the bristles. Roman squeaked and squealed, able to feel the tickles a little bit on his armpits.

“Iiiii’m gonna get closer~” Remus teased a little more, just to further drive him up the wall.

Roman was a big mess of giggles. He couldn’t stop himself from doing anything! “Stahahahahahahap thihihihis ihihihihis sohohohoho mehehehehehean!”

“Ohoho, I know, dear brother.” Remus teased. “But I’m just getting started! Just wait till I bring in the brushes! And the feathers! And the raspberries!”

Roman squealed. NO RASPBERRIES! ANYTHING BUT THE RASPBERRIES!

Remus leaned into Roman’s ab muscles and blew a raspberry.

“HEHEHEHEHEHEHEHAHAHAHAHA! STAHAHAHAHAHAP!” Roman begged.

“Okay!” Remus leaned in and…

Didn’t blow a raspberry.

Roman looked down at his belly and quickly squeezed his eyes shut. He wasn’t able to look!

Remus smirked and breathed in. Roman gasped and giggled, smiling brightly. But Remus didn’t raspberry. He pressed his lips to Roman’s abs and STILL didn’t raspberry! He even blew some air onto Roman’s abs and refused to raspberry yet.

Roman was dying of anticipation at this point. When the heck was he gonna-

“PBBBBBFFFFBBBFBBFBBFBFBF!”

“YEAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”

Roman pretty much DIED in that moment of laughter. It was like the world finally hit its peak of ultimate tickles! And Roman was experiencing ALL of it!

“Tickle tickle tickle tickle tickle tickle tickle tickle! Kitchy kitchy kitchy kitchy kitchy kitchy koo!” Remus teased nonstop.

“NAAHAHAHAHAHAHA! EHEHEHEVIHIHIHIL!”

Remus leaned in for another raspberry and waited. “Yes...that’s exactly what I’m supposed to be! Always evil! Always the bad one!”

Roman cackled loudly as Remus tickled his super sensitive ab muscles. Then, Remus started showing off his finger. “Hmmm...What’s the phone number again?”

Roman squealed and covered his face while Remus was stroking his mustache. “I think it was 185-” Remus poked the ab muscles in the right spot, and tickled him in the process. “4...9...5? No 3!” Remus reacted. “Damn...I gotta start all over again!” Remus restarted typing the numbers into the abdomen telephone grid.

“185, 495- Damn! It’s 493!” Remus reacted, ‘typing’ it wrong. “I have to start all over again!”

“REHEHEHEHEHE!” Roman was laughing and jumping at each and every poke. “STAHAHAHAHAP IHIHIHIHIT!”

“The safe word is tickle!” Remus told him.

TICKLE?! OF ALL THE WORDS TO MAKE THE SAFE WORD- His ego was not gonna survive this! No way his ego would survive anything like this!

Remus smiled and clicked the numbers on the abdomen keyboard. “185-493-1692.” Remus ‘picked up’ the phone. “Hellooooo?” Remus said eagerly. Remus poked his finger into Roman’s belly button and kept it there. “Uh huh~…”

Roman tried to move as little as possible as to not tickle himself with his own movements.

“No, I’m afraid Roman is NOT here at the moment. Want me to take a message?” Remus teased.

‘Um, EXCUSE ME?! YES I’M HERE!’ Roman thought out loud. Roman was about to speak up, but was stopped by Janus’s hand over his mouth. “He’s on the phone…” Janus mouthed to him.

Remus smiled and started wiggling his finger that was stuck inside the belly button. Roman widened his eyes and wiggled around a bit, desperate to get his belly button away from the finger. But Remus’s finger kept following the belly.

Roman giggled a little more under Janus’s gloved hand, and shook his head to try and get his hand off. BUt that was a big fat no go.

Remus smiled at this and grabbed a brush. “Now let’s put some makeup onto this belly of yours.” Remus decided.

Remus summoned some paint with his hands and squirted blobs of multicolored paints pretty much everywhere he could reach. Then, Remus readied his big fat wall brush, and started painting and blending all the paint together on his belly.

Roman squealed and giggled at how cold it was at first, and cackled the moment he felt the brush reach the sides of his belly. The sides of his belly was SUPER PLUS ULTRA SENSITIVE (yes, I really brought MHA into this), and couldn’t handle even the lightest touch most of the time. But now there were MILLIONS OF LITTLE BRISTLES tickling all over Roman’s poor belly.

Janus was totally not enjoying this...not one bit...No...He wasn’t enjoying this...He swears…

It would be at this moment that Logan would usually yell “FALSEHOOD” on the top of his lungs.

But Logan was kinda too busy to yell that at the moment.

Janus watched as Remus started booping his belly with yellow on the brush. He was trying to make stars on Roman’s belly. Every single few seconds of Remus thinking of where he wanted a star to be...was painful for Roman. Cause every little break was a different amount of seconds! It was too unpredictable to properly predict anything! And it drove Roman BONKERS.

“There! Now the moon!” Remus grabbed the white paint, and dabbed it on...to the belly button.

Then, he started drawing circles on the spot to spread the paint out a little more so it dried better. Roman cackled and wiggled around as the bruh tickled his belly button, making the moon look jagged and wobbly. “You’re ruining my moon!” Remus told him.

Roman giggled at this. “Yohohohohou’re ehehehevil!” Roman shot back.

“You told me that already!” Remus mentioned. “Now, if you really want this to stop, you’re gonna have to say the magic word~”

Roman growled through his laughter. “Tehehehehehe- tihihihihi- IHIHI CAHAHAHAN’T!” Roman whined.

“Yes you can! It’s just a word! It won’t kill ya!” Remus reminded him.

Roman struggled to say the word for another 10 minutes before finally getting farther in.

“Tihihick-tihihihihickle! Tihihihihicklehehehe! NOHOHOHOW STAHAHAHAHAP!”

Remus giggled. “Sorry bro! I need to hear it without laughing!” Remus told him as he lessened the tickles significantly.

“Whahahahahat?!” Roman reacted. “Buhuhuhuhut-”

“No butts~! Say the word, uninterrupted. Then, I’ll stop.” Remus told him.

“Fihihihihine!” Roman looked around and made sure only Janus and Remus were listening. When he was sure it was just the three of them there, Roman tried. “Tihihi- Tihickle! Tickle! I sahihaid ihihihit!” Roman told him.

“Ooooh! Not bad Ro-ro!” Remus stopped tickling just as he promised, and rubbed away the phantom tickles that were probably there. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“Hahard on the ego, though…” Roman muttered, the butterflies in his stomach getting worse and worse.

Remus smiled and poked his belly one more time. “I gotta say: I like this painting! It’s a masterpiece!” Remus reacted.

Roman looked down and widened his eyes. There was a galaxy of many different colors on his belly! Blues, purples, and blacks with stars and a moon on his belly! It was gorgeous! “Wow!”

“I know, right?!” Remus reacted.

“I’m gonna keep this on my belly for the rest of the day.” Roman decided. “I have a galaxy tummy!” Roman declared.

“Galaxy tummy!” Remus declared as well.

Roman counted the stars, and even noticed that the big dipper was on his belly. He loved the painting and decided that maybe...just maybe...he did have a small weakness. But, it was a good weakness. Tickling isn’t really so bad of a weakness.

#tickletober 2021 #ticklefic #ler!remus #lee!roman #janus helping #fluff

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viseralantlers · 4 years ago

Text

old friend (c!karl jacobs x reader)

takes place in episode 5 of tales ! The wild west one !

warnings: Injury, swearing, character death

Request: nope!

note: using Kit as the alternate name to avoid confusion and follow how the time travel thing works kinda !!!! If you don’t like it feel free to pick another one and fill it in ! I was mostly trying to keep it gender-neutral !! Sorry if it makes it difficult to understand : (

John led Karl around the small town to pick up people to help stop the hostile bandits he had the pleasure to meet when he first entered the saloon just a few hours ago. Now an eccentric band of characters were leaving William’s shop to head to their last stop, the bakery.

“Alright, so this is Kit!” John spoke with a slight drawl as Karl watched hesitantly as a head peaked up from behind the counter that had been covered in fresh loaves of bread. Karl paused at the sight, it was y/n. It couldn’t be, they had died on doomsday. He felt frozen to his spot as he studied their every move. Karl knew deep down that this wasn’t y/n. He’d seen these past versions, relatives of sorts. of his friends, but he’d never seen anyone that had looked like y/n. It had always been sapnap or technoblade, it was as if y/n died not only in the present but in every past he traveled to.

“Huh” they said as they wiped the flour from their hands on a black apron that had been tied around their neck and torso, stepping around to the group.

“Hey, Kit!” John was cut off as y/n jumped into a question.

“John, I thought you already picked up your stock for this week?” John scratched the back of his neck feeling Percy’s stare digging into the back of his head due to his newly revealed spending habits. Y/n, now Kit, continued talking before abruptly pausing when they finally noticed the crowd that had accumulated in their small bakery. “What’s all this about?” They said with a hint of anxiety slipping into their voice.

“Nothing to be worried about!” Karl jumped into action at the sign of y/n’s trepidation “We just wanted to ask if you wanted to help us take down those old democrat haters.” Karl nervously laughed.

“Oh! Yea, for sure bucko, I hate those guys as much as the next one of y’all.” They smile, a steady joyful expression breaking their former nervous demeanor. Karl felt strangely sick at the sight, at how much it reminded him of his old friend, or more so crush, before their passing. Though he also noted the change in your speech as a strong southern accent slipped in every once in a while, even using the word y’all.

“Good to hear, Kit!” John said happily as y/n and William shared a small conversation talking about stock and sales in the recent weeks. Karl trailed behind the group as he watched y/n converse with the crowd, their face filled with a wide smile, even daring to talk with Crops as if he wasn’t a convicted cannibal. They seemed as kind as ever, as an addicting presence as they used to be when the two lived together in L’manberg.

“Hey Karl!” y/n practically beamed at him as he passed them on the wooden prime path as tommy affectionately called it. “Niki and I made this new bakery together wanna come check it out!” They singsonged already reaching to grab at Karl’s sleeve. They smelled like freshly baked bread, their face dusted with a soft blush from the exertion of baking.

“Yea, sure!” Karl granted them his hand letting y/n pull him in to waste an entire day tasting pastries and sweets. He went home that night with flour handprints on his back and a warm feeling in his chest.

“Great shot!” Karl was pulled out of his trance as he watched Michael whiff the target by a few feet. Shaking his head he studied each member shoot with varying success. Though what really caught his eye was an aim that only rivaled y/n’s own coming from who John had called Kit, the baker that smiled exactly as y/n had every time he whispered a bordering on senseless joke into their ear on party island. He struggled to solidify the name Kit in his head as he watched Kit stick out their tongue as they focused their aim and hit a perfect bullseye. Kit smiled to themselves before they followed the party to the tents surrounding a warm crackling fire.

“Hey, Kit, right? Sorry I’m just never very good with names.” Karl said as he settled down beside the sweet-smelling baker.

“Yep!” They chirped with a relaxed face as they studied the flicking fire as it reached up towards the open sky. “Need something?” They asked turning to Karl. Karl blushed at the eye contact not knowing why he started the conversation in the first place.

“No, no, no,,, uh nothing, I just wanted to say good shooting back there I guess.” He laughed to himself playing with the ends of his sleeves.

“Thank you very much, kind stranger! Just a little hobby I picked up after they built that old shooting range. You know, I don’t think I ever caught your name back in my store?”

“It’s Karl.”

“Karrlllllllll” Kit drew out with a goofy face focusing on the l “Pretty name!” Karl felt stuck in time as the interaction mirrored one he had had with y/n.

“Kaaarrrrrrllllllll! Did I ever tell you your name is pretty?” Karl looked at y/n confused.

“No, but ,,,, I wouldn't quite call it that.” He blushed looking down at his feet.

“I would.” y/n nodded affirmatively “cause it’s Karl, not Carl, it’s pretty,,,,,, your pretty,, really.” y/n laughed at they looked up at the lazily passing clouds with a gentle smile plastered on their relaxed face.

Karl laughed away the small compliment after he looked back up into Kit’s e/c eyes as the group broke into talking about the coming showdown between the two sides.

“Kit, I think you should fight, Mason. You have the best shot out of us aside from me, of course.” Sherif Thompson spoke.

“That’s okay with me! Anything to stop those guys from ruining my pastries really.” Kit said as their interest was engulfed by the warmth from the fire once again. Karl felt fear dig its way into his chest as he looked at Kit’s side profile remembering the last time he had seen them like this.

“Karl go to your library, please. The grid can’t reach it” y/n called to Karl over the never-ending sounds of explosions and falling rubble. “I’ll be okay, I got my bow and my charisma.” y/n chuckled sadly.

“Come down with me! We can be safe together. This isn’t worth it, y/n!” Karl begged as he yelled over to their figure standing tall knowing they were on their last life, knowing that they were not going to go with Karl, knowing this could end in tragedy. Y/n turned with fresh tears trailing down their cheeks.

“This is my home, Karl.”

“I know.” Karl resigned to the fact that you weren’t gonna come with him. Weren’t gonna cower as L’manburg breathed its final breath full of smoke. “I love you.” He yelled as they gave a brave smile jumping down to join the fray. He had imprinted the side profile of their face as they stood solemn, lit by the cloudy sky and the flashes of explosions.

Suddenly it was high noon. Tension building in Karl’s chest as he called out the paces studying Kit walk away from Mason. The track record had been 2-0 he could only hope it would remain so positive.

Y/n had died from an arrow.

An arrow through the chest.

It had been thought to have been shot from Dream’s grid.

No one knew who did it. There was no way to know.

They bled out at the bottom of the crater,

alone,

As Karl huddled in the library,

Eyes shut tight.

Karl knew that in some twisted way, he might as well of fired that arrow himself.

FIRE!

They both fell to the ground, Mason dying upon impact due to the arrow directly piercing his heart. Kit wasn’t as lucky, the arrow had hit it’s target, but not quite a bullseye, the tip was lodged into their upper thigh.

“y/n!” Karl called out in a panic, the strange name not lost to the group around him. He rushed to Kit’s side as tears freely flowed down his face. “Does anyone have a potion?” Kit stared at him in confusion.

“Hey, I’ll be fine, not an artery or anything, just hurts.” they gave Karl a soft smile trying to reassure him of the small injury not being lethal.

“Yea, yea, sorry, I just.”

“y/n’s dead, Karl.” Quackity said as he walked into the secret room of the library that was hidden behind the bookshelf full of y/n’s favorite classics. Karl was frozen in fear as he studied Quackity’s face for any sign of this being some sick sadistic joke. He only found sorrow and loss.

“No, no, y/n, will be here any second! The fight is over, and they are okay, right? Right?” Karl begged Quackity as he felt his hands begin to shake, his breaths becoming ragged. Quackity sat down beside him letting Karl curl into his side. Karl hand’s gripped to his shirt as he sobbed. Quackity knew he couldn’t stop Karl’s pain, but he could comfort him through it.

“I guess, you just reminded me of an old friend.”

#karl jacobs x y/n #karl jacobs x reader #karl x reader #mcyt x reader #mcyt x you #mcyt x y/n #mcyt insert #mcyt imagine #mcyt fanfiction

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hansolmates · 4 years ago

Text

jjk; angel’s trumpet [08]

summary; one second, your life is flashing before your eyes and the next, you’re transported into a world exactly like your own. but the jungkook you meet in this world isn’t a renowned singer or your former almost-lover, in fact he has no clue who you are and why you know him so well. as you work to find your way home lost and confused, you conclude that you’re either dead or in the middle of the most wicked drug trip of your life. pairing; idol!jk x reader (f), alternatively film producer!jk x reader genre/warnings; fluff, angst, supernatural, idol!au, non-idol!au, alternate universes, themes of fate, language, alcohol consumption, in this chapter–mentions of sex, a panic attack w.c; 4.5k a/n; can’t believe there’s one more chapter after this! (+the bonus chapter!) its such a bittersweet feeling to close this all up so i hope u all join me in my w2!jk sobbing party im making matcha cookies rn so i can wallow

[07] [08] [final] -> masterpost

Jungkook’s worried.

After he left your apartment, he dove himself into his work and tried to get you out of his head. Somehow he ended up from his living room table to his bed, bleary and with a pen jabbing him in the cheek. He doesn’t know how he feels right now, and has micro analyzed every bit of your relationship in between breaks.

He fell fast, and loving you (as much as it scares himself to admit) was so easy it hurt. It’s why it’s so hard for him to accept that you would betray him like that. What could he have possibly done to deserve this? If you had just admitted your issues from day one, this crisis could have easily been averted and you would be with him right now.

But that’s not why he’s worried. Jungkook wakes up the following day around 10AM, noting the dozens of messages and unanswered phone calls from Jimin and Taehyung.

According to Taehyung, you’ve been missing for three days. Off-the-grid type of missing, to the point that Taehyung is debating on whether or not he should call the police.

The first day you didn’t come home, Taehyung chalked it up as you spending the night at Jungkook’s. The second day however, he visits the library where your office hours are held only to find your usual table empty and your students upset over your lack of contact.

“Here,” Doyeon had said, pointing to the vague email you sent. Taehyung skimmed through the barebones message, mentioning that you had to take an indefinite leave and that the students can email Professor Kim Namjoon if they still had lingering questions.

Taehyung notes the sincere apology at the bottom, and how you tack on that “you are a wonderful group of students and I wish you the best of luck in your future endeavors.”

Almost as if you aren’t planning to come back.

He could hear Taehyung deflate on the line, knowing that Jungkook has no idea where you are either.

“Did you…” Jungkook scratches his head, sitting at his kitchen table, “did you check her room for a yellow notebook?”

“What?” Taehyung asks, “I checked her room yesterday. Y’know the weird thing is? Her room is clean, like clinically clean. There’s nothing on her desk, the sheets are washed, and her clothes are all folded and put away. Usually it’s like a whirlwind in here.”

“Yeah,” Jungkook replies, remembering how your room is usually quite lived in, with warm sheets and a candle glowing.

“Why aren’t you more stressed out, dude?” Taehyung says, and Jungkook instantly feels guilty. “Your girlfriend’s fucking missing, are you gonna get up and help or not?”

“Y-yeah, I’m just a little shaken,” he manages to reply, thinking about how you tried to explain to him the other night. He pinches the bridge between his brows, regretting not letting you have your word when refusing to listen to you. Maybe if he heard it, things would have turned out differently.

Taehyung sighs, “Yeah, it’s a bit of a shock. She really isn’t like this normally, but I trust her. If you can, maybe contact Jung Hoseok? I already visited Kim Namjoon and he doesn’t know anything, but he’s the only friend I know that could have any idea.”

Jung Hoseok. He remembers that name frequently in your notebook. Not as frequently as his, but enough to have a good idea he could be involved in your sudden departure.

“Okay, I’ll visit him today.”

•━━━━━━»•»💮💮💮«•«━━•••

The tables that you usually occupy for study groups are painfully absent of your presence, noted by your stressed out students that are hoping you’ll show up unexpectedly.

Thankfully, Hoseok is working today. Jungkook eyes him from the doorway of the playroom, seeing Hoseok carefully distribute plates of snacks as a movie plays on the flatscreen. He looks like a preschooler himself, decked out in a sunflower yellow bucket hat and denim suspenders. Jungkook tries to see if there’s anything strange emanating from Hoseok, like if he also has secrets to hide, but feels nothing of the sort.

“You’re really creepy, Mister,” the door swings open to reveal a little girl, tugging impatiently at his cargos.

Hoseok makes a face at Jungkook, rolling his eyes. “God, just come in. You’re scaring my children.”

The little girl practically shoves him inside, forcing him to sit at the playtable on the very end. She then hands him a plate of cheddar Goldfish and strawberry fruit snacks, a toddler’s delicacy. Hoseok makes a show of telling the children to be quiet, focusing on the movie’s “historical elements” and “symbolic imagery” but they don’t understand any of that and just want Hoseok to move so they can watch Mulan.

Jungkook feels like he’s being crushed in the too-small chair and Fisher-Price table, munching absentmindedly on his Goldfish. Hoseok is playing on his phone, not sparing him a glance as he texts someone.

Jungkook swallows, wishing he had some milk to down the snack. “Uh, are you texting y/n?”

“No,” Hoseok replies coolly.

“Well, do you know where she is?”

“I can tell you where she went,” Hoseok replies eerily, plucking a fruit snack from Jungkook’s place, “as to whether she’s still there or not, I’m not sure.”

“I’m sorry, but are you mad at me?” he whisper-hisses, not wanting to disturb the children enamoured at the front of the room. He’s tired of the secrecy and blurry answers.

“Yes, I am,” Hoseok snaps just as quietly, leaning in to get into his face, “I’m mad because I believed in you.”

“Believed in me?” he gapes, “you don’t even know me!”

“I may not, but I believed you’d trust y/n at least. She’s a victim too, y’know.”

A victim?

“Look,” Jungkook puts some space between them, afraid he would get too heated, “just tell me what’s going on so I can understand. I know I messed up, but I feel like I’ve been in the dark for God knows how long.”

Hoseok bites his lip, “It’s really not my story to tell. Y/n didn’t want to tell you right away because she wasn’t sure of the circumstances. She wasn’t sure even if she was supposed to tell you.”

Jungkook watches the expressions morph on Hoseok’s face. He sees the faith in his gaze, as he holds his phone expectantly, as if he’s also waiting for a sign that you’re okay. Jungkook suppresses a sigh, looking at his own blank screen. Shaking his head, he manages to smile knowing that so many people believe in you.

So why can’t he?

•━━━━━━»•»💮💮💮«•«━━•••

You hate this. Three days ago you felt peachy keen, ready to transcend into your own universe and live your life to the fullest.

Now three days later you’re sitting at the wine lady’s cottage, waiting for the past two days for her to show up.

“How long does she need to go on this ‘spiritual retreat’?” you admonish, looking on angrily at the same waitress that has served you for the past two days.

“I don’t know,” the waitress has grown tired of your presence, waiting all day in the little restaurant for the owner’s presence, “until she feels more spiritual, I guess?”

It annoys you further that this waitress has the spitting image of Sehlyung. It’s weird to see her with natural pin straight black hair, always loving the pretty blond-white color and sacrificing her hair health for the bright hue. Every time she sees you still in the same spot, she makes it a point to roll her eyes and walk a little louder. This version of her is just as temperamental, unwilling to budge.

You groan, shamelessly annoyed as you drop your head on your arm. “And are you sure there’s no angel’s wine in the bar? I’m willing to take the risk of switching lives with my third dimension-self at this rate.”

The waitress eyes the one empty bottle of soju that decorate your side of the bar, chalking it up as a drunk episode. “No,” she says flatly, jerking her hand out. “Now, please pay and leave. We’re closing up, but I’ll give you a call if she decides to show up late. Since y’know, you’ve left your number here despite our protests.”

“Can I stay until you’re at least done cleaning—”

“No.”

You narrow your eyes, snatching up your half-finished bottle of soju before tucking it in your purse and offering up your credit card in exchange. You know you’re not in the right mind, but you’re pulling at strings at this point and you don’t know what to do.

After a couple paces of shaky walking and trying very hard not to appear tipsy in public, you plop yourself onto the beach, overlooking the shore. You place your backpack next to you, taking off your shoes and dipping your toes in the sand.

You glare hard at the moon, despite the distance the big ball of extraterrestrial rock is bright and full. It reflects in the ocean and bathes you in it’s grace.

Sighing at its beauty, you take a swig of your soju as your feet wade in the water. The touch of the ocean is glaringly cold, but your body feels warm and the contrast is appropriately jarring. You feel stuck between two worlds, your body in one while your heart is in the other, desperate to find the bridge to bring you home.

What exactly was the goal in bringing you here? Did you need a break from your real life? Did fate want you to remedy your relationship with Jungkook? Were you supposed to rewrite the wrongs you committed in your other life?

You snort, taking a long swig. It's easy to see how well that went.

You miss your life back home. As much as you love the one your alternate self has made here, nothing compares to Sehlyung’s humor and dirty jokes. Nothing compares to the look on Beomgyu’s face after getting a sentence translation correct. Nothing compares to the way Jungkook looks for only you after a concert, desperate to give you a hug and an affirmation that he did well.

Just as you are about to sing to the moon and beg for a reprieve, a body plops themselves next to you, snatching the bottle from your hands.

“Y’know, normally when people run away, they leave a mysterious note.”

You frown at Jungkook, who looks absolutely ethereal as he stares at the moon. He’s glittering in his denim jacket and black jeans, as if he’s part of an intimate moment in a slice-of-life film. You have half a mind to grab your phone and yell at Hoseok, but it’s far too late since your location has already been revealed.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, trying not to snap when Jungkook pours the contents of your drink into the ocean. “Hey, I paid for that.”

Ignoring you he says, “I’m here to take you home.”

“I don’t have a home here,” you snap, and you mean it.

Jungkook digs a hole for your bottle, letting the sea green grass sit in the sandhole. He turns to you, looking weary and worried. You try not to feel worried over the slump in his chest, or the way he looks like he ran a marathon to find you.

“Then where is your home?” he asks gently, resting an arm over his knee and turning to face you.

You curl up further into your body, hoping you’ll shrink if you press your legs close enough to your chest. “It’s not here,” you mumble into your knees.

“Tell me where,” and you don’t shove him away when he puts his palm on your thigh, coaxing you out of your shell. “I’ll listen this time.” Deathly slow, you lift your head up, letting him catch your stray tears and spread your body with warmth. He scoots over to you, the rough sand making it difficult as he tries to wrap his arm around you. The both of you let out a breath, missing each other’s touch. “I’m sorry,” he says, the apologies melting into your temple, “I should’ve listened from the beginning, and been more patient. It’s my fault you’re all the way out here.”

The oceans crash against both of your feet, the water eager to swallow you whole.

“Two months ago I got into a fight with you, the other you,” you start, and Jungkook doesn’t budge, and you’re thankful he doesn’t attempt to bombard you with questions, “it wasn’t a stupid fight. It was something building for a long, long time. And I came home drunk. One second, I was two seconds away from being sideswept by an incoming truck, and the next second it’s daytime and it’s you that nearly runs me over.”

He rubs small circles into your shoulder, and you almost hum at his touch. You miss Jungkook so much.

“The Jungkook I’ve told you about isn’t dead,” you explain, “he’s—and I’m, we’re from another universe.”

And between you, Jungkook, and the moon you profess your journey. Starting from the anxiety you felt from the first week, how you holed yourself in your apartment until Namjoon had to whisk you out, to your relief when Hoseok believed your crazy ideas. Halfway through you decide to piece your theories within the story, your last conversation with Jungkook, coupled with the angel’s wine and explaining how scary it was to see your matching tattoos and the meaning behind them.

“But, I wasn’t trying to fall in love with you so I could go home,” you admit tearfully, feeling the weight of the night on your shoulders, “it, it just happened naturally. It made me believe that in another world, we would’ve worked out. Just like he said.”

“I believe you,” he says firmly, exhaling. The whole explanation, understatedly, is a lot to take in. But he isn’t going to reject it, in fact as absurd as it is it makes far more sense than you planning out a Jungkook-inspired sci-fi novel or questioning your sanity. “I—I didn’t want to at first. It was easier to say you were crazy but, it doesn’t seem like the case. The way you saw me that morning we met, I could see how much you cared for me—him—us?” he scratches his head, unsure of how he should refer to himself in the situation.

“I don’t blame you,” you shake your head, “Namjoon wanted me to see a doctor.”

“It must’ve been hard,” he states, “seeing so much of him in me.”

“You are him,” you retort, looking up so that your noses are touching. There’s pain in both your gazes, equally upset at the circumstances. “I’m sorry you got the short end of the stick. I wish you could’ve met me, the other me, under normal circumstances.”

“Remember what I said before?” he asks, lifting a hand to brush your hair behind your ear. “I said that our meeting was fate. And now I believe it more than ever.”

You laugh, leaning your head against his shoulder. “Y’know, Jungkook believes in fate too. He used to joke about hearing the bell when he found ‘the one’ like in Kimi No Na Wa.”

Jungkook grins, “That guy of yours seems pretty cool,” he jokes, “let him know that in our case, the bell was my horn because I didn’t wanna run you over.”

The whole situation is confusing, but you’re thankful that Jungkook seems to be at ease now that all your cards are laid out.

“So does your Jungkook do film too?”

“Uh,” you choke out a cough, “he’s actually a singer, dancer, producer, and films when he has the time. Mostly singer, the main one in a K-pop group. With Hoseok, Jimin, Taehyung, Yoongi, Namjoon, and Seokjin.”

He gapes, “Kim Seokjin? The actor Seokjin? Damn he’s like, super fine—”

“God this is so weird.”

“So how many figures are they making a year? In the hundred-thousands, like six-figures?”

“Er, more like eight,” you squeak, “and then some. But you put a lot of your money into donations.”

“Damn babe, you downgraded,” Jungkook jokes, and you smack him playfully on the arm. “So that’s how you got the song, huh?”

“Still With You? Yeah,” you say, running your hands through the soft sand, “it’s weird to live in a world without your music, byproduct of my job. It happens to be a big part of my life,” your eyes glaze over the ocean, “I missed hearing your voice.”

“Y/n,” Jungkook threads his fingers through the sand to find your hands, “I’m really, really sorry I doubted you.”

You disagree, “It’s a crazy situation. I don’t even know if I’m really sane at this moment,” you chuckle, “I mean, the time went by so fast. I would be paranoid because for you, it’s like being in a new relationship. I didn’t think it would be so easy to love you all over again like that.”

“Neither did I.” Jungkook replies warmly, and he smiles when he sees you gaping. He leans over to press a kiss to your lips, a feeling long-missed. “And a little part of me knows he feels the same way, too.”

•━━━━━━»•»💮💮💮«•«━━•••

It’s almost 12AM before you return to your apartment, dripping wet because neither of you anticipated the sudden spring shower. You tumble in like wet noodles, giggling like children in hushed whispers as you struggle to find the lightswitch.

The lights blare on for you, Taehyung’s fingers hanging by the toggle. His hair is wet from the shower, and he looks like he sees a Christmas miracle when he wraps you up in his arms, despite the protest of you being dirty with sand and salt.

“You dummy, don’t ever scare me like that ever again!” he sobs into your shoulder, and you return the embrace as you pat his head comfortingly.

“Sorry Tae,” you say, “had to do a little soul-searching.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, more like world-searching if anyone were to ask his honest opinion. But Taehyung is looking past your body to mumble a teary ‘thank you’ to Jungkook, and he nods his head politely.

“Well next time you soul search, you better call.”

“Done and done.”

Satisfied that you are going to stay the night and not budge, Taehyung returns to his room. He gives you a good scolding however, and he makes you promise that you’ll give him the full story over breakfast.

After that bump, Jungkook and you can’t keep your hands off each other. You two shower the grime off your bodies, taking turns shampooing and scrubbing. Even after you’re clean and towel-dried, Jungkook’s fingers fail to untack from your skin, pushing you eagerly to your mattress as he presses kisses along your clothed body. He’s singing against your skin, waxing poetics about how beautiful you are and how much he loves you.

“Jung—koo, Jungkook,” you say breathlessly, running your fingers through his damp locks, “Taehyung’s in the other room, we can’t be loud.”

“Don’t,” kiss, “give,” kiss, “a fuck,” Jungkook pants, large hands trailing over your soft skin, memorizing every inch of you, He presses his length against your thigh, insistent, “if this is the last time, we’re going off with fireworks, baby.”

And with that, you relent. It’s nothing short of electric, the way he takes great care but great power into your pleasure. He takes his time, as if it isn’t the first and last night, tracing every inch of your body because he doesn’t know what the future entails for the both of you.

You’re equally stung like live-wire, wracking with pleasure as he seals his affirmation to you with sweet nothings, bodies pressed against each other feverently like they’ve always meant to be. Every bit of contact is purposeful, unbridled and overflowing with affection.

When you’re done you’re both sweaty and almost painfully content, acceptant of the ambiguity of your futures.

“Jungkook?” you ask, holding his hand tightly.

“Yes, pretty girl?”

“Will you… fall in love with me again?”

“Is that even a question?” he balks, leaning forward to peck your nose. He smiles at the way you scrunch your face. “Your office hours are 1-3PM, Mondays and Thursdays in the general library. If you’re not there, you’re teaching the History of Neuroscience in the ARC building on Tuesdays and Thursdays from 10:20 to 12:10. I also know where you live, so.”

You don’t care how sweaty you are, and tuck your head underneath his chin, needing to be closer.

“I will find you,” he promises, “hopefully not under my bike the second time around, but I’ll take what I can get.”

“You’ll have a lot of explaining to do, y’know,” you sigh into his chest, feeling it rumble as your hair dampens. Your hair has dried long ago from the shower, but you know Jungkook’s trying hard to be strong as he cries into your crown, “you should leave before I wake up, just in case.”

“Hoseok and I will handle it,” Jungkook assures you, “we’re like the Power Rangers, defenders of space and time.”

“Alright Red Ranger, make sure you’re at least clothed before I wake up, then.”

He pulls away lightly, seeing your equally red-rimmed eyes and ruddy cheeks. Both of you bump arms as you try to wipe away each other’s tears. The moon continues its power over your bodies, the only source of light in the room. Despite its movement since your time at the beach, it continues to illuminate the room and make the moment glisten with the rhythm of time.

“You really think this is the end for us, huh?” his voice cracks, his hands cradling your face.

Stretching to reach him, you press a kiss on every available centimeter of skin on his face. His forehead, his cheeks, his chin, his lips. You take care to kiss the tears away, silently wishing nothing but the best for him. He immediately melts into your touch, and he gives you a teary smile.

“It’s not the end,” you assure, “it’s our beginning. Thank you, for loving me.”

Jungkook nods, pressing a long, sweet kiss to your lips. “I can’t wait to fall in love with you again.”

The two of you sleep like that, not with a goodbye, but with a promise.

•━━━━━━»•»💮💮💮«•«━━•••

W1.

When you wake up, it’s loud.

The transition is jarring, painfully so. Gone are your soft flannel comforter, replaced with dry, scratchy sheets that are a poor excuse for bedwear. Your hands are heavy, bounded by the fluids snaking into your bloodstream. Your eyes are crusty and bleary, taking in the plain white and wood room. The sharp sound of the monitor reverberates in your ears, a high-pitched reminder of your slow vitals.

Everything is painful, confirming that in fact you did get hit by that truck. You give props to your alternate self for dealing with this for the past two months.

Your eyes dart around the room, taking in the night sky and the full moon looming above you. The only other person in the room is your baby niece, who is just short of five years old. She has since ceased coloring at her little table, her little mouth gaping open like a pufferfish. You make eye contact with her, and she nearly spills over her 64-count Crayola pack as she throws herself off the chair, running over to reach for your hand.

“Auntie!” she cheers, the biggest smile on her face, “you’re awake! Mama said you were hibernating like bears do, and that you would probably wake up by spring time. She was right!”

Although it pains you to smile, you manage to squeeze her hand in return. You open your mouth, the inside feeling tacky and gross. “Ah-ah,” you grimace when no sound comes out, just rasps and ghosts of what once was your voice.

Your niece’s face crumples, and she lets go of you. “Imma go get mama, she’ll bring help!”

She leaves you alone to succumb to the beeps of your monitors and the pain in your bones. Your fingers grapple the paper-thin sheets, and your gaze drifts to the moon. You think of Jungkook, sleeping blissfully in bed, holding you with so much tenderness and care. In a matter of what felt like minutes since you fell asleep in his arms, disappears just like that.

The doctors and your family find you hysterically crying, the monitors going crazy as you hyperventilate yourself into a stupor. You feel like you’re choking on air, whatever little tubes in your body restricting access to fully express how torn and conflicted you’re feeling all over again. The medical expertise does work to evacuate your family, chalking your reactions up as your trauma catching up to you and the shock of the past two months hitting you full force.

•━━━━━━»•»💮💮💮«•«━━•••

It’s nearly 3AM when the music cuts out with no explanation, and Jungkook is annoyed. He just got that set down and he finally felt confident in adding facial expressions, but the manager killed the music and now his head is spinning.

He’s heaving, hands on his head as he tries to get his body back to equilibrium. He watches intently as Namjoon immediately takes the call, not even bothering to leave the studio to answer it. The rest of the members watch as Namjoon’s expressions morph into happiness, combined with short “yes”es and “I understands.”

Namjoon makes eye contact with Jungkook first and beams, “She’s awake!”

What originally felt like a hot and stifling room, immediately dissipates into an air of relief. While not all the members may not know you personally, the thought of a fellow co-worker on the road to recovery is enough to ease their exhaustion.

“What?” Jungkook doesn’t hide it, and collapses on the floor, thoroughly spent for today. “Is she okay?”

“Well, she actually just passed out. But she’s conscious.”

“What, why?” Jimin asks, rolling a water bottle over to Jungkook.

“Doctors say she woke up in a panic, started freaking out when it sunk in that she’s been in a coma since winter.” Jungkook’s heart squeezes painfully of the thought of you scared and feeling trapped in that small hospital bed.

“Well, can we go see her in the morning?” Jungkook says hopefully, biting his lip.

“We can’t,” Namjoon confesses, looking down at his shoes in disappointment, “at least not right now. y/n was apparently terrified. The doctors think she’s suffering from some form of PTSD, because she can’t recall anything that happened after she got hit. Her guardians are sending her to a facility for her to process her trauma. It’s in the countryside, and she’s not allowed visitors until she’s fully recovered.”

Just when Jungkook thinks he has you back, you’re already far from his reach. He should be happy, knowing that you are well on your way to get better. He’s thankful enough that you’re finally awake. But the small, selfish part of him wants to visit you, and comfort you.

Whether you’ll let him or not is your choice, but this time, he decides he’s going to fight for you.

#jungkook fic #jungkook angst #goldenclosetnet #bts fic #bts scenarios #jungkook fluff

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nekoabiwrites · 5 years ago

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Love on the Fly Floor

My lecturer once told my uni class about this story of an actor who was crushing heavily on one of the flymen, and then they had said flyman be shirtless on the actor’s birthday when he was flown out - just to fuck with him. I loved it so much that I wrote it down and now I finally got around to writing it

(PS: the Fly Floor is where the flying is done for a show. And flying is raising and lowering pieces of set, which is done by flymen.)

AU: Theatre Pairing: Pining Prinxiety Words: 1411 Warnings: Nothing.

Summary: Roman is crushing bad on one of the flymen on his show. When his birthday rolls around, the cast and crew decide to help things along.

“Oh my goodness, Patton. You should have seen him the other day…” Roman sighed dreamily as he stretched his arms towards the ceiling. He was thankful that their current venue had provided the two of them a dressing room with enough space where he could warm up alongside his friend, rather than his usual routine of having to find another space somewhere in the building.

Patton giggled softly, trying his best not to move too much as he continued applying his stage makeup, “I dunno, Roman. Seems like you want to keep a sight like that to yourself.”

“Shut up!” Roman snapped to standing straight up, “Such stunning beauty should not be confined to just one person’s sight. It should be shared with the world!” He spun around, as if gesturing to said world. “Either way, he is far too gorgeous to be hidden so far up. He has just the most perfect face for the stage, and a strong physique too. Oh, he is so perfect…” Roman daydreamed happily as he took up a seat beside Patton, sighing as he did so.

“Alright, Birthday Boy. Maybe you can ask him for a present today?” Patton suggested, grinning widely when Roman’s face turned a lovely shade of red.

“I could never use that as an excuse! Besides,” Roman waved a hand in dismissal, “I’m sure someone like him either is uninterested in me, has a partner or is�� straight.” Roman almost shuddered at the thought of someone he felt so strongly about being entirely incompatible with himself.

“How will you know until you ask, Ro?”

“…I won’t. But that is far too personal, Patton. It is highly unprofessional to pry into the affairs of a co-worker.” Roman ended the conversation there. Patton picked up on it quick and changed the subject, but the topic still lingered in the back of his mind.

“All company to the stage please. That’s all company to stage. Thank you.” The voice of the stage manager rang through the speaker high on the wall and the pair finished up their current tasks before taking the short walk to the stage. They managed to converge upon the stage at the same time as many of their fellow actors, all of which wished Roman a happy birthday when they approached him.

Roman thanked them but didn’t allow them to linger on the topic for long before starting up a new conversation. As much as he loved being the centre of attention, Roman didn’t want to seem too self-centred around his fellow cast members. He did have to travel with them for a few more months and his job would get far more difficult if they all started to despise him. His thoughts almost started to spiral into the darker side of things when the stage manager entered and caught everyone’s attention.

“Thank you all for arriving so promptly. We have some important things to get through before the stage can be reset. The most important things we’ll need to run are all scenes that involve flying people up and into the grid, so we can ensure the safety of all involved as a new flyman is joining the crew for the remaining shows. The crew are all set and ready to go, so if we could get prepared for that.”

The cast went to disperse, but a shout from the dance captain stopped them all. “Before we do that, there is one important thing we need to do!” He scurried off into the wings, followed by two ensemble dancers. They returned quickly with a card and a small cake. As if on cue, all the cast turned to Roman and began to sing happy birthday for him. It was short and sweet and Roman truly did appreciate the sentiment. He thanked them all graciously, offering hugs to all the cast around him.

“I’ll take them back to the dressing room, okay?” Patton said, taking the card and cake from Roman’s hands.

“Thank you, Patton. That is so kind of you.”

“It’s nothing! You have things to do anyway!” With that, the other man was off into the wings whilst Roman got into position.

He was handed his harness, which he was helped into before being hooked up to the thin yet strong wires that would allow Roman to be lifted. After the checks were done, the stage manager called out to him, “Alright Roman, are you ready?” He nodded in response, “Okay. You can take him up.”

Roman steadied himself as he felt his weight leave the ground. He was used to this by now, as he had been doing it almost four times a day for a while. They went through the scene, getting him moving from position to position, all under the watchful eye of everyone in the area. The scene was almost over, Roman delivered his last line and was flown high up into the grid, out of view of the audience. Underneath him, Roman knew that if he looked down, he would see the crew that were working fast to bring in the next set and another fly bar far ahead of him came in to mask his inevitable descent. It was almost over; he was so close. But Roman was never one who was good with avoiding temptation. He looked over to the fly floor and his mouth promptly fell open.

The man he’d been gushing about to Patton. The gorgeous flyman. The fantastically strong, mouth-wateringly pretty flyman. Was leaning against the railing. Staring directly at him. A smirk gracing his beautiful mouth. Utterly, wonderfully shirtless.

Roman’s mouth ran dry and his face quickly blushed as he took in the silent strength of the muscles that he could make out. The crossed arms that were resting on the bar were defined subtly, as were the rest of the chest and torso. The man’s skin was as pale as Roman had thought and it offered such a blank canvas that was just begging to be decorated. And then that infuriating yet intoxicating smirk and look that the man was giving him; he had to know that Roman was into him, there was no other explanation for that look.

The man played with his hair as he stood back up, pushing it into its usual position of almost covering his eyes before making a gesture that could only mean one thing: “call me”.

Roman didn’t know when his feet had reached back onto the ground. Nor when he’d been crowded by people. He was dazed, almost as if the sight had completely dazzled him and left him brainless. It was only when people started laughing that Roman managed to snap out of it. He noticed that they were all looking at him and that all the set was still in its original position. Roman’s brain pieced everything together in an instant, “You… you all set this up!” The laughter got louder at his realisation. Roman pouted and crossed his arms, “You’re all disgusting creatures! How could you?! Taking advantage of my situation like that! I am delicate! What if you had destroyed me?!”

A soft chuckle broke through the loud laughter and an arm wrapped around Roman’s waist, the free hand of the person behind him unhooking the wires, “What are you gonna do about it, Princey?”

Roman stood straighter, his mouth suddenly dry once more as he looked down at the black-painted nails and the bare arm. “I’m going to… to… um…”

“You are going to call me.” Roman had to fight not to shudder at the breath that fanned over his neck as the flyman whispered so close to his ear, the tone deep, rich and oh so sinful. A piece of paper was slipped effortlessly into Roman’s hand, “And, when the show is over, you’re going to dinner with me.”

“I… we, what?”

“Dinner. You know, eating, drinking, talking. All that stuff. We’re doing that after the show tonight. My treat, birthday boy.” With that, the flyman left. He sauntered off in the direction of the backstage corridor before someone called out to him.

Roman was still a little shocked from the interaction. He’d not actually considered that he’d be interested in him, let alone would be taking him out on a date… He looked down at the paper in his hand, the scribbled name above the number just about legible, “Virgil…” the name fell from Roman’s lips like a prayer.

My other stuff: http://nekoabi.tumblr.com/myworks Mobile Accessible Masterlist: http://nekoabi.tumblr.com/post/181954641376/fic-masterlist Recreating Masterlist: https://nekoabiwrites.tumblr.com/post/611395890160238592/recreating-masterlist

General Tag List: @not-so-innocent-bi-sander @didsomeonesayprince @llamaly @justanotherpurplebutterfly @iaminmultiplefandoms @ultimate-queen-of-fandoms2 @lowkeyvirgilobsessed @louisthewarlock @fangsandrainbows @xxladystarlightxx @sleepyssnail @ao-koshka @notalwaysthevillian @pumpkinminette @doces-e--tuga @coloursintheblur @safesandersides @hogwarts-my-love

#Sanders Sides #Fanfiction #Prinxiety #Roman Sanders #Virgil Sanders #Patton Sanders #Creativity Sanders #Anxiety Sanders #Morality Sanders #Theatre AU

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fallen420 · 4 years ago

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Rebel Spy - Chapter 4: The Prisoner

Summary: Auroras life becomes lonely after the war ends so when a familiar Mandalorian needs her help who is she to refuse.

Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Series Playlist

feelings are being discovered!

* not my gif

"Why are we here again?" I ask as we land inside a base.

"Look he's an old friend and he has a job for us." he turns around in his chair, "And we need the credits." I look around at the people walking around.

"Looks imperial to me."

He stands up and repeats, "We need the credits."

He goes down the ladder and I follow.

"You can't trust imperial people."

"I know."

We walk out of the ship and like always people stare.

"Mando," Some guy says, "Is that you under that bucket." he puts his hand out.

Mando shakes his hand, "Ran."

Ran looks at me and says, "Now whos this pretty lady."

It takes everything in me not to gag.

"Aurora."

"Nice to meet you," he says and I fake a smile.

He looks back to Mando, "I didn't really know if I'd ever see you in these parts again. Good to see you. You know to be honest, I was a little surprised when you reached out to me." We start walking slowly. "You know, 'cause I...I hear things. Like, maybe things between you and the Guild aren't working out." We stop walking.

"We'll be fine."

"Okay. Well, you know the policy. No questions. And you, you're welcome back here anytime."

The Rebel in me hates this. Every part of this.

"So what's the job?" Mando asks.

"One of our associates ran afoul of some competitors and got himself caught. So I'm puttin together a crew to spring him. It's a six-person job. I got four. All I need is the ride, and you brought it." He looks at the razor crest.

"The ship wasn't part of the deal."

"Well, the Crest is the only reason I let you back in here." Mando looks at him obviously mad. "What's the look?" He steps closer to Mando "Is that gratitude?" he walks away laughing.

"I don't like this," I say, "Or him."

"I know," he says with almost sympathy in his voice.

"Hey Mayfeld," we hear Ran say. Mando and I turn around.

"Shit," I say under my breath.

"What?" Mando asks.

"Yeah?" Mayfeld asks.

"This is Mando and-"

"Kyla," Mayfeld says

Shit. Shit. Shit

I can feel Mando's gaze.

"You two know each other?" Ran asks.

"Yeah, she was on one of our bases. Whatever happened to you?"

"I got transferred to a different base where my skills were more needed," I lie.

"Oh a shame, the rest of the guys and I were disappointed." Mando gets tense.

"Anyways," Ran say, " this is the guy I was telling you about."

"This guy?"

"Yeah, we were all young, tryin' to make a name for ourselves. Yeah, but runnin' with a Mandalorian, that was...that brought us some reputation."

"Oh yeah? What did he get out of it?"

"I asked him that one time. You remember what you said, Mando? Target practice." He laughs, "Target practice. We did some crazy stuff, didn't we?"

"That was a long time ago."

"Well...Well, I don't go out anymore. You understand? So uh, Mayfeld, he's gonna run point on this job." Mayfeld waves his hand, "If he says it it's like it's comin' from me. You good with that?"

Mando looks at Mayfeld, "You tell me."

Ran laughs again, "You haven't changed one bit."

"Yeah, well, things have changed around here," Mayfeld says, "

"Yeah, well, Mayfeld he's...he's one of the best triggermen I've ever seen. Former Imperial sharpshooter."

"That's not saying much," Mando says and I fight my laugh.

"I wasn't a stormtrooper, wiseass." Mayfeld and Ran walk away leaving me and Mando.

"Target practice? Arrogant much?"

"Long time ago," he reminds me How many fake names do you have?"

"A few," I start to whisper, "I was a spy remember? Sometimes I found my way on imperial ships and I would send info back to my people."

"Razor crest?" Mayfeld says, "I can't believe that thing can fly. Looks like a Canto Bright slot machine. Alright the good-lookin' fellow there with the horns, that's burg." Burg is red, has large horns, and looks like he could crush me with one hand. I stand closer to Mando, "This may surprise you, but he's our muscle."

He walks to Mando and grunts, "So this is a Mandalorian. I thought they'd be bigger."

"Droids name is Zero."

Oh no.

The droid walks over to us.

"I thought you said you had four," Mando says

"He does," A voice from behind us says. We turn around and its a purple Twi'lek, "Hello, Mando."

Okay, how does she know him? And why am I so mad about it?

"Xi'an." He says

"Tell me why I shouldn't cut you down where you stand?"

'Cause I'll kill you.

She puts a knife to his throat and he doesn't even flinch, "Nice to see you, too."

She laughs then sighs, "I missed you."

Okay, I hate her.

Why?

I have no idea.

"This," she looks at me, "Is pretty. Got a new friend Mando?" She says the venom in her voice strong.

"Yes," he says.

"Does it have a name?" She looks back at Mando.

"Aurora," I say.

"A pretty name for a pretty girl."

"Do we need to leave the room or something?" Mayfeld says.

"Well," Ran says, "Xi'an's been a little heartbroken since Mando left our group."

"Aw. You gonna be okay, sweetheart?"

"Oh, I'm all business now. Learned from the best."

"Alright, lovebirds. Break it up 'til you get on the ship. Right now we don't have much time."

Lovebirds. Makes me wanna be sick.

Mando looks at me like he wants to say something but I won't look at him.

"So," Mayfeld says, "Package is being moved on a fortified transport ship. Now, we got a limited window to board, find our friend get him out of there before they make their jump." He shows us the hologram of the ship."

"That's a New Republic prison ship," Mando says, "Your man wasn't taken by a rival syndicate. He was arrested."

"So what?"

Stars I hate this more and more with every passing minute.

"A job is a job," Ran says.

"That's a max security transport and I'm not looking for that kinda heat."

"Well, neither are we. So just don't mess up."

"The good news for you," she says, "Is the ship is manned by droids. Still hate the machines, Mando?"

Zero, the droid walks out of the razor crest, "Despite recent modifications the ship is still quite a mess. The power lines are leaking, the navigation is intermittent and the hyperdrive is only operating at 67.3% efficiency. We have much better ships. Why are we using this one?"

"Because the Razor Crest is off the old imperial and the New Republic grid," Ran explains, "It's a ghost."

"And we need a ship that can get close enough to jam New Republic code," Mayfeld also explains. He clicks the hologram changing the picture to grids, "So when we drop out of hyperspace here, if we immediately bank into this kinda attitude, we should be right in their blind spot. Which will give us just enough time for your ship to scramble our signal."

"It's not possible," Mando says, "Even for the Crest."

"That's why he's flyin'" Ren motions towards Zero. Mayfeld laughs. "Mando, I know you're a pretty good pilot, but we need you on the trigger. Not on the wheel."

"Don't worry, Mandalorian. My response time is quicker than organics. And I'm smarter, too."

Everyone starts to bored the ship and so do I but Mando grabs my wrist. "Are you okay?"

I pull my wrist out of his grip, "Why wouldn't I be?" the anger very present in my voice.

I walk away and walk into the Razor crest.

After making sure Zero gets us into hyperspace we climb down to join the others.

You could cut the tension between me and Mando right now with a knife.

When we get down Burg his head in the weapons room thingy. Mando closes it causing Burg to grunt at him.

"Why do we even need a Mandalorian anyway?" Burg says.

"Apparently they are the greatest warriors in the galaxy," Mayfeld answers

"So why are they all dead?" They all laugh. I look up at Mando but he keeps his eyes locked on Burg.

"Well, you flew with him, Xi'an. Is he as good as they say?"

"Ask him about the job in Alzoc III."

"I did what I had to." Again Mando avoids my look.

"Oh, but you liked it. See, I know who you really are."

No, actually you don't

"He never takes off the helmet?" Mayfeld asks.

She chuckles before saying, "This is the way."

Stars do I want to punch her square in the face.

"I wonder what you look like under there. Maybe he's a Gungan. Is that why yousa don't wanna show your face." Burg laughs loudly. "You ever seen his face?"

"A lady never tells."

I swear I get light-headed at the thought of them together. My heart thumps in my chest, my breathing gets shallow, and my blood boils as the toxic feeling of jealousy flows through my veins.

Mando looks at me like he senses it.

"Aw. Come one, Mando. We all gotta trust each other here. You gotta show us somethin' Come on. Just lift the helmet up," Burg steps closer to us and my hand hovers over my blaster. "let's all see your eyes."

"I'll do it," Burg says and he reaches towards Mando.

Before I can fully react Mando pushed Burg back. He punches him in the face. As Burg falls he pushes buttons causes the doors to my cot to open revealing the baby.

"Woah! What is that?" Mayfeld says.

I stand in front of the child, "Don't." My hand sits on my blaster.

"Did you two make that?" he refers to me and Mando.

He tries to move around me to grab him, "I said don't."

"Protective of the thing now are we. Come on just let me hold him."

"Touch him and I shoot you."

"Dropping out of hyperspace now."

The ship shakes and we all fall. I fall onto the cot next to the kid who just giggles at what's happening around him.

"Commencing final approach, now. Cloaking signal now."

The ship goes upside down I grab the kid and I hold onto the wall.

"Engaging coupling now." The ship lands. I stand up and I make sure the kids okay before I close the door.

"All right, we got a job to do, Mando you're up," Mayfeld says

Just get through this and you never have to see these people ever again.

Mando opens the hatch on the floor revealing another hatch to get into the prison.

Mando opens it with some pre-empire tech I don't know how to use.

Mayfeld jumps down there first.

We all go one by one me going last.

The prison walls are white.

It reminds me of my rebel days.

"Alright, we're on the clock the second we engage those droids they're gonna be all over us."

"I know the drill," Mando says. I pull my blaster out of its holster to get ready.

"All right let's go."

We walk through the halls of the prison. The prisoners look through at us wondering what's going on.

"I don't like this," Mando says.

"You always were paranoid." Every time she talks I want to punch her.

One of the prisoners bangs on the wall and grunts loudly at us scaring Mayfeld. I can't help but laugh. "Looks like you're the paranoid one," I point out.

"Shut up."

"Approaching control room. Make a left." Zero says over the comlink.

As we turn into the next wall way an MSE- mouse droid stops in front of us.

Berg taunts it before shooting it.

"And now they know were here," I say.

Security droids turn the corner, "Intruder alert. Open fire."

Mando and I shoot but we miss. He grabs my wrist pulling me to the side covering ourselves from the blasts.

"If we die here I'm killing you," I tell Mando. He pulls my wrist again and pulls us into another away from the shooting. "Great are we leaving them?" Kriff he walks fast.

"We have a job to do."

"Oh yeah, lets free the prisoner sounds great. Let's go save the assholes who tried to take off your helmet. Let's save the annoying bitch who doesn't know when to shut up." He turns the corner and I basically have to run to keep up with him.

He turns the corner again and we end up behind the droids.

I refuse to help these people so I let Mando go alone. He slides down and cuts one's leg

Showoff.

He seems to be doing fine then he gets thrown to the floor.

Worry takes over the anger. I shoot one that was gonna shoot him. He shoots out his rope from his vambrace taking the head of one clean off.

If I wasn't so mad it would have been pretty badass. The last two left try to shoot at Mando the blast bounce of his beskar.

Before they can shoot at me fire comes out of both vambrace.

The last one tries to shoot at us but I grab the blaster out of its hands and shot it in the head.

The prisoners boo and cheer us.

"Thanks," Mando whispers.

"Yeah, whatever."

The other three walk past us. Mando and I give each other a look before following.

We find the control room and Zero opens the door.

The guard wearing a blue uniform with a yellow rebel logo on the side jumps up and points his blaster at us.

"Stop!" He stutters, "Just stop right there." Mando and Burg point they're blasters, "You put down the blasters right now."

He stares at me for a moment probably recognizing me.

It's embarrassing.

To be such a proud rebel to be here with people from the opposite side.

Mayfeld makes fun of him making him flustered.

"There were only supposed to be droids here," Mando says.

"Hang on, let's see here," Mayfeld says.

He doesn't know where to point his gun moving around from all of us as we surround him.

"Cell two-two-one," Mayfeld says, "Alright now for our well-dressed friend. He pulls out a tracking beacon. If he presses that button we're screwed. We will get blown to hell. "Put that down. Put it down."

He's scared its obvious. He hasn't trained for this it's why he's in the control room.

Mayfeld pulls a gun on him.

"Look if we just calm down no one has to get hurt," Mando says. He and Mayfeld stare each other down.

"Hey," I say, "Point it at me," He turns to me "Point it at me," He points his blaster at me, "There you go." Mando gets points his blaster higher, "Mando put the blaster down."

"But-"

"Do it." He does. I look at Mayfeld, "You too."

"Are you crazy?"

"Put. It. Down." He does.

"What's your name?" I ask softly to the rebel standing in front of me.

He stammers before saying, " It's Davan."

I remember.

"Davan. Look you know me. Remember? Dantooine?"

"Aurora?"

"Yes. Look we're not here for you. We're here for a prisoner. Just let us do our job and you can walk out of here unharmed." He starts to lower his gun.

"No, he won't," Mayfeld says and they point their guns back at each other. I point mine at Mayfeld he points one at me and Mando points one at him.

"You realize what you're gonna bring down on us?" I say.

"You think I care about that?"

"We're not killing anybody."

"Get that blaster out of my face, I'm not listening to rebel scum."

"Can't do that."I feel the anger flow through my body. Anger at how stupid these people are and anger as to how I'm even here in the first place.

"Get that blaster out of my face!" Burg pulls his guns out too.

Then a knife flies past my face hitting Davan. He falls to the ground dead.

Yeah, I'm gonna kill her.

But I just stare at Davan's lifeless body. I look at the symbol on his arm and I feel disgusting for what I'm doing.

The tracking beacon starts blinking and flashing, "Was that thing blinking before?" Mayfeld asks.

"I've detected a New Republic distress signal. Homing in on your location. You have approximately 20 minutes."

"We only need five," she says.

They run out. I start to follow but Mando stops me, "You okay?"

"No, that's one of my people right there." I motion towards Davan, "You do realize that me doing this goes against everything I've fought for. For me, this is the same as taking off the helmet."

"Then why are you here?"

"I wasn't gonna let you do it alone now was I?"

Because I care about you dumbass.

We find the cell and with Zeros help they get it open.

Inside is somebody who looks just like her. He stares at Mando.

"Quin," Mando says.

He stands up, "Funny, the man who left me behind is now my savior. Mando."

Next thing I know Mando and I are getting pushed inside the cell falling straight to the floor and the door is being locked.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," I say still laying on the floor. Mando gets up and he puts his hand out to help me up but I refuse. Standing up on my own, "I told you this was a bad idea. You do realize the kid is on the ship alone with that droid?"

"Yes."

"And now we're stuck in here."

"What do you want me to say? That this is all my fault? You don't think I feel bad enough already for making you do this?"

For this first time in my life, I'm lost for words. Maybe its because that is the longest I've ever heard him talk or because of what he said.

Either way, I just stare at him.

"Let's just get out of here." He says and I nod.

A droid walks by our cell. Through the small windows in the cell, Mando shoots the rope out of his vambrace pulling the droid towards us.

The droid struggles against Mandos hold. It puts its blaster through the window and shoots. I go to pull its arm after a couple tries it falls off and it drops its blaster. The black fuel from the droid spills everywhere.

I take the blaster and shoot it in the head. The droid falls to the ground.

Mando grabs his arm that fell inside the cell. Mando turns the end of the arm making the key shoot of its hand.

And with that, the cell door unlocks.

Mando and I run back to the control room. "You know how to use this stuff?" He asks me.

"Hell yeah I do." I walk up to the controls and find our little friends on the monitors, "It's time to play a game."

I press a few buttons causing the lights to turn off and red lights to flash. The hatch doors start closing locking them on this ship.

They run looking for an escape but the door just keeps closing. They ended up being separated.

"The coms are down too so Zero can't help them."

"Good."

Mando and I watch and Berg and her split up. I look back down and Davan's body feeling horrible.

I pick up the tracking beacon next to him. I put the beacon in my pocket. I look back at the monitors.

"It looks like Berg is on his way here. What do we do?"

Mando looks up to the air vents

We see Berg through the ceiling.

Mandos rope shoots down at him and it wraps around his throat. He pulls on the robe causing Mando to fall through the vents and me to fall along with him.

And it hurts. I don't have the luxury armor protecting me.

The wind gets knocked out of me, everything is blurry, and my wrist, stars does it hurt.

Next thing I know Mando is being thrown across the room.

I grab my blaster with my non-hurt hand and I shoot but it does nothing.

Mando shoots fire in his face.

And nothing.

He gets a few good hits in with Mando and throws him across the room again.

I feel useless seeing Mando get thrown around like a rag doll.

I try shooting a few more times but nothing hurts this guy.

"Let's see your face Mandalorian."

Oh hell no.

I stand up now running on pure adrenaline.

Mando however throws Burg over his head. Now Burg is in the doorway and Mando lies on the floor.

I go to the control panel clicking a button that closed the door from the top.

He catches it.

Of course, he did.

I press another button closing the door on the sides crushing him.

With everything calm, I feel the pain in my wrist again, "Son of a-"

Mando stands up, "Are you hurt?"

I nod, "I'll be fine though, I've had worse."

We walk through the halls and we run into her.

"I want this one," I say.

"Wait-"

I run after her. She throws her knives and I dodge them all except for one that grazes my shoulder.

She goes to stab me but I grab her arm and punch her in the face.

And let me tell you.

It felt amazing.

I take the knife out of her hand, kick her to her knees and I hold the knife to her throat.

I go to cut it but Mando stops me. "I told you we're not killing them."

"But she killed one of my people. And you and her-" Woah, there Aurora think before you speak.

"I know, but you said yourself we're not here to kill people." I sigh before hitting her in the head knocking her out.

I look down at her, "I don't like her."

"Neither do I."

Oh.

Mando takes care of Mayfeld easily.

Next, we find Qin climbing up the ladder.

"Qin," Mando says causing him to stop.

"You killed the others."

I wish.

"They got what they deserved," I say.

He turns at us and Mando pulls out his blaster.

"You kill me, you don't get your money," he shrugs, "Whatever Ran promised, I'll make sure you get it, and more. Come on, Mando. Be reasonable." He throws his blaster on the ground. "You were hired to do a job, right?" he puts his wrist out, "So do it. Isn't that your code? Aren't you a man of honor?"

We get back onto the ship and the stupid droid is starring at the kid. He has his gun pointed at him but before he can do anything I shoot the droid in the head.

It falls to the ground with a loud thud.

"I understand your hatred for droids now," I say to Mando.

Mando files us the hell out of there and we go back to Rans base.

I stay in the cockpit watching the exchange out the window.

Qin and Ren hug.

Ren gives Mando the credits without asking any questions.

Mando comes back up and flies us out of here.

As we fly away three X- wing ships fly past us.

We hear them shooting at the base behind us, "I miss flying those." Mando puts us into hyperdrive. "Thank the stars that is over."

He turns his chair around and looks at me, "Let me see your wrist."

"Its fine, Mando."

He grabs my wrist anyway and I wince at the pain. "Its sprained."

"See told you. I'm fine."

"Come on," he says climbing down the ladder and I follow, "Sit."

I sit down and he sits down across from me placing the med-kit on the table. "She got your shoulder too."

I scowl at the mention of her, "Just a scratch."

"You really don't like her do you?"

"Nope."

Please don't ask me why.

He carefully grabs my wrist with his gloved hands and wraps my wrist with the bandage. Even though he still has his gloves on his touch still makes me nervous. I'm almost sure he can feeling my heart beating faster and faster.

"I'm sorry I dragged you along for that."

"It's fine."

"Its not," he finished wrapping my wrist, "Let me see your shoulder." I turn and he rolls the sleeve up. "I shouldn't of made you do something against you believe in."

I did it for you.

He applies the batca patch to the cut, "I wasn't gonna let you do it alone." It comes out quieter then I wanted.

He looks up at me his face, or helmet is just a few inches from mine. If he was planning on saying something he decided against it.

He just stands up and walks to his room. He comes back with a shirt in his hand.

"That one is covered in blood wear this one."

"I uh- have-"

"Just take it."

"I- okay." I grab the shirt, "Thanks." And then he leaves.

And now I am left here alone with these feelings.

These feelings I don't want and I shouldn't have.

Because he will never feel them back.

My favorite chapter so far. Let me know if you want more

#pedro pascal #the mandalorian #din djarin #pedro pascal x reader #the mandalorain x reader #the mandalorian x oc #din djarin x reader #din djarin x oc #paz vizla #baby yoda #Oberyn Martell #agent whiskey #the mandalorian x reader

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thewalkingdead-fan101 · 4 years ago

Text

In This Hell Daryl Dixon X Reader Part 6/??

Hey guys! I am so sorry for not posting chapter six sooner, I've been working really hard on it for you all and I hope you like it! :) In this part I've tried to give some insight of the readers past. Warnings- General Walking Dead stuff, Blood, Gore, Swearing.

After his confession, Daryl had run off, and decided to sleep in a different tent. Much to my disappointment. The night went by quick, so did the next sunrise. After pulling my boots on, I grabbed my jacket and headed out, running into Carol as I exited the tent. “Morning Carol.” I smiled. “Morning, How’d you sleep?” She responded. “Half decent.” I answered “So about the same as every other night.” She laughed I nodded my head, grabbing one of the baskets with Carol. We washed the groups clothes, putting them back into the baskets. “I wish we could give back to Hershel, and his family. They’ve helped us with so much.” “You’re right. Maybe we could make them a dinner?” “That sounds great.”

“I’ve been thinking about it.” We stopped by our makeshift clothesline, placing the baskets on the picnic bench.

Hanging out the clothes, someone else had joined us. “I can't believe I slept in.”

“You must have needed it. Feeling all right?” Carol asked.

“Next time wake me, all right?” Lori paused. “Especially on laundry day.” She finished, grabbing some clothing.

“We can manage.” I smiled “I had an idea I wanted to run by you.” Carol looked over to me.

“What's that?”

“That big kitchen of theirs got me thinking. I wouldn't mind cooking in a real kitchen again. Maybe we all pitch in and cook dinner for Hershel and his family tonight. Kind of looking for things to keep my mind occupied.”

“After everything they've done for us, seems like the least we could do.”

“You mind extending the invitation? Would just feel more right coming from you.”

“How so?”

“You're Rick's wife. It sort of makes you our unofficial first lady.” Carol smiled as I chuckled. I look aver as the rest of the group make their way over to the Cherokee. “Morning, guys. Let's get going. We've got a lot of ground to cover.” Rick called out. I looked over to Lori, who was staring at her husband. “Hey, are you okay?” I asked, rubbing her shoulder. “Huh? Yeah, im fine, sorry.” She shook her head. “You know where I am if you need anything.” I nodded. She nodded back in response with a small smile. “I’ll be back, im just going to see if they need any help.” I smiled. I walked over to the Cherokee as Shane opened his big mouth. “Nothing about what Daryl found screams Sophia to me. Anyone could have been holed up in that farmhouse.” He commented from the passenger seat. I glare at him, shaking my head at his negativity.

“Anybody includes her, right?” Andrea asked. I looked over to Daryl, who was avoiding eye contact.

“Whoever slept in that cupboard was no bigger than yay-high.” He stated to the group.

“It's a good lead.” Andrea nodded.

“Maybe we'll pick up her trail again.” Rick noted. I look back over to Daryl, who points over onto the map.

“No maybe about it. I'm gonna borrow a horse, head up to this ridge right here, take a bird's-eye view of the whole grid. If she's up there, I'll spot her.”

“Good idea. Maybe you'll see your Chupacabra up there too.” T-dog jested.

“Chupacabra?” Rick asked.

“You never heard this? Our first night in camp, Daryl tells us that the whole thing reminds him of a time he went squirrel hunting and he saw a Chupacabra.” Dale finished. Smiling, I reminisced over that night.

Merle and Daryl were sitting on the left hand side of the fire, Morales and his wife on the right, Jacqui and T-dog next to Andrea and Amy. Glenn was sitting with Dale, Carl was sitting with the other kids, Louis, Eliza and Sophia as Shane, Lori and Carol chatted. Ed staring at his wife with a murderous glare in his eye, that we all had noticed. Then there was me, Sitting next to Shane, close enough so he knew where I was. I sat directly across from Daryl, making eye contact every now and then. We were all swapping stories about what we did before the end of the world, who we are.

When Merle noticed me watching Daryl. Thats when he stood up, getting everyones attention. “Come on little brother. You got this in the bag.” “Sit down Merle.” Daryl shook his head. “No, No, No, These people have told their stories, now let's tell them one of yours.” “Nah, they don’t wanna hear it.” He argued. “Come one Daryl, Let's let the people decide.” Merle made his way around the fire, stopping in front of where I was seated.

“How ‘bout you? You seem pretty interested there sweet cheeks.” “Leave her alone Merle.” Daryl softly growled. I looked up at Daryl and smiled softly. “I wouldn’t mind hearing it.” “See little brother? She wouldn’t mind hearing it.” Merle mocked me.

I rolled my eyes as Merle made his way back over to sit next to Daryl. “So what is this story about? You have my sisters attention, must be good.” Shane laughed. Daryl took a deep breath before starting.

“I- uh, I was out hunting, Merle was out doing whatever it was he was doing, our old man was at home passed out.” He began. “I was hunting squirrels, there wasn’t any big game around, it wasn’t the right time of the year. I had been out for a few hours, had about seven squirrels bagged. I was following one, that’s when I saw it.” “Saw what?” Carl asked, leaning on his knees, mirroring myself. “ I saw a chupacabra.” “A chupacabra?” Shane asked. The group all laughed as I watched Daryl, look down. “What did it look like?” I asked. Daryl looked up at me and I smiled. “You don’t believe this. Come on.” Shane scoffed. I ignored Shane, and kept eye contact with Daryl. “It was big, it was on all fours, looked like a cross between a bear and a coyote, Its eyes glowed red and it was hairless, looked as though it was scaly. It had spikes coming from it’s spine, it left as soon as it noticed I was there.” I looked over to see the kids all amazed at the story of the chupacabra. “After it ran off, I went home, told the old man, he didn’t believe me, I told Merle and he didn’t believe me.” “I think the only people buying into this story are the kids.” Andrea laughed.

“I Believe.” I smiled.

“See little brother. She Believes.” Merle laughed.

Daryl looked around the group as they laughed softly.

“I know what I saw, and I ain’t need none of y’all to believe me.” Daryl said, standing up and stalking to his tent.

“That’s it little brother! You only need me. You hear?” Merle called out, smiling as he watched Daryl leave. I look up to see Daryl, wearily watching me. My head snaps in the direction of Jimmy who was laughing at Daryl. “What are you braying at, jackass?” Daryl asked.

“You believe in a blood-sucking dog?” Jimmy sarcastically asked. “Do you believe in dead people walking around?” Daryl fought back. Jimmy looked down, before reaching for the gun.

“Hey hey. Ever fire one before?” Rick asked.

“Well, if I'm going out, I want one.” He stated.

“Yeah, and people in hell want slurpee’s.” Daryl responded, making his exit. I stifled laughter as Jimmy watched him walk away. “Why don't you come train tomorrow? If you're serious, I'm a certified instructor.” Shane called out to Jimmy.

“For now he can come with us.” Andrea smiled.

“He's yours to babysit then.” Shane nodded.

“What can I do?” I asked “You can stay here and out of the way.” Shane answered. “Excuse me? Shane-“ “Im sorry (Y/n), but I agree with your brother. It’s best for you to stay here and make sure that everyone is okay.” Rick nodded. I looked at Rick and nodded. “If that is how I can help find Sophia, fine.” I nodded as I backed away from the Cherokee and over to where Carol was.

“What’s the plan for today?” Carol asked.

“Rick, Shane, Dale, Andrea and T-dog are going out to search the woods, Daryl Is searching along the creeks and some old ridges.”

“I hope they’re all safe… the last thing we need is more people hurt or missing.” She sighed. “Carol-“ “Im starting to lose hope.” She started, looking out over the field that held a few head of cattle. “My little girl is out there, and each day that passes, doesn’t help. Andrea tried to comfort me yesterday… I told her not to, I can’t take anymore thoughts or prayers… It’s exhausting.” She continued. “I get it, I really do Carol. But we can’t give up. We will find her, and I am praying that its under good circumstances, but we will know what happened to your little girl, we will get closure.” Carol looked over and smiled softly. “Im with you, the whole way.” I smiled grabbing her hand.

She squeezed my hand as she let a few tears fall. “Thank you.” I looked up and watched as the others made their way into the cars and driving off to continue the search for Sophia. “If you need me, I’ll be inside, making sure that its clean for when they bring her home.” Carol sniffed. “Okay, ill talk to you later.”

Standing up, I stretch, looking around the farm. On the front porch, Glenn was strumming the guitar that Dale had found on the highway. Maggie coming out of the house, talking to Glenn. I make my way over to where Lori was sitting, staring at her hands, a somber expression. “Hey, are you okay?” I asked, sitting next to her. “Huh? Yeah honey im okay.” She responded. “Lori, I know you… Something is up. Talk to me.” “(Y/n), im fine, im just thinking about this world we are living in now, that poor little girl missing, my boy shot… Maybe this isn’t a world for children.” “I haven’t told anyone this. Before the CDC was destroyed, Jenner did an ultrasound… We found out that I was five weeks along. He tried to tell me that he could get rid of my baby.” “What?” She asked looking at me. “He said all of this stuff that terrified me. Since we left the CDC, I can’t stop thinking about what he said.” I paused. “Maybe you’re right for thinking that way. Maybe this isn’t a world for children anymore, hell I’ve been thinking that lately. But we are survivors, that’s what we do. Your boy, in that house, is a survivor. He pulled through, as for Sophia? I am still praying every night that we find that girl and bring her back.” “Am I a horrible mother for thinking this way?” She asked “Of course not! You’re only human. Lori, we are all going to get through this.” She nodded and smiled softly. “You’re right… That’s rare for a Walsh.” She joked. I laughed along with her. “You have the wrong sibling for that, im right at least 89.5% of the time.” I joked.

“You have a point. Your brother is barely right.”

We laughed for a moment.

I turned my head and I heard the sound of leaves crunching, seeing Glenn make his way over.

“(Y/n/n), can you give us a second?” Lori asked.

“Of course. I’ll talk to you later.” I smiled, getting up, walking toward the house. I turn to see Glenn headed towards Lori and I. “Hey, (Y/n/n)

I knocked on the door and waited for someone to acknowledge my presence.

“You don’t have to knock you know.” Maggie smiled walking up the steps.

“I just wanted to be polite... I didn’t want to just barge in.”

“It’s fine, really. Come on.” She opened the door and led me inside.

“What’s going on with you and Glenn?”

“What are you talking about?” She asked suddenly, a worried glint in her eye.

“You guys look pretty friendly.”

“We’re just friends, acquaintances more so.”

“It’s okay, you are allowed to make friends. We aren’t going to hurt you guys.” I smiled.

“It’s not that, I can promise you it’s not that.” She smiled.

“(Y/n/n)?”

I turn my head to see Carl looking through the crack in the door from his bed.

I look back at Maggie with a small smile.

“Do you mind?” I asked.

“Not at all.” She nodded backing away.

“Hey buddy, can I come in?”

He nodded.

I walked in and sat in the chair next to his bed.

“How are you feeling today mister?”

“I’m okay.” He smiled

“Does it hurt?”

“Not really, not anymore.”

“That’s good, that is really good.”

“I’m like dad now. He was shot, I was shot. He gave me his hat.” He said excitement clear on his face.

“So there is a new sheriff in town?”

He just laughed and nodded.

“Yeah, so I’m the boss now.”

“Alright, do you want me to fluff your pillow there boss?” I joked with him.

He laughed softly, before he sighed and rested his head against the headboard.

“What’s wrong kiddo?”

“I’m stuck in this stupid bed all day.”

“Carl, you need to get your rest, to get better.”

“I just want to be out and help look for Sophia.” He sighed.

“Hey, it won’t be long. You’ll be back on your feet in no time... Have patience.”

“I know. But I know I can help.”

“I know you can help. But right now, you need to help by making sure you get better.”

He nodded, looking around the room.

“I have an idea.”

He looked back to me hopeful.

“Give me a sec.” I smiled, getting up and leaving the room.

I stopped in the dining room where Maggie was seated at the table.

“Hey, sorry to be any trouble, but do you have any cards or games?” I asked.

She looked over and smiled.

“Yeah, I think so.” She answered, getting up and heading towards the living room, opening a small cupboard.

She was down for a moment, before popping back up with a monopoly board and scrabble board.

“We have these.” She smiled, passing me the two.

“It’s perfect, thank you!” I smiled

“You’re welcome.” She called as I left.

I made my way back to Carl’s room, halting as I catch a glimpse of a few of the Greene’s family photos hung on the wall. The biggest photo on the wall was a family portrait. Hershel, with a beautiful woman on his arm. The two were surrounded by three kids, Maggie, Beth and im guessing Shawn. In the portrait, Maggie and Beth were much younger, but there was barely any difference in their appearance. I could feel the presence of eyes, boring into my back. I turn to the side to see Hershel staring, briskly walking away after our eyes met. Left in the hallway, I turn back to the photos, smiling at the photo of of Maggie behind a screaming Beth on a rope swing. The next photo is of who I am assuming is Shawn as a young boy, sitting behind the wheel of a tractor on Hershels knee.

Another picture of the three kids, all with matching outfits, a newborn Beth in a basket, Shawn and Maggie holding the basket.

The photo reminding me of one the photos Shane and I had to endure for our parents when we were kids.

We were young, I was about three, Shane closer to six. Shane and I both sitting in a wheelbarrow, Shane behind me in matching denim overalls, covered in dirt. “Shane, come on buddy, You need to smile!” I heard dad trying to encourage him. “Shane, we’re sending these to your Grandma Jean, and the rest of the family, you need to smile sweetheart.” My mum said trying her best to coerce a smile from a stone faced Shane. “Same goes for you (Y/n). Big Smile angel.” My dad spoke. It didn’t take much to persuade me to do a giant smile. “Thats my girl!” My mother smiled. “Your turn now my boy.” My father started to get stern. “Come on, please smile for mommy and daddy.” Mom tried once more, softly sighing.

The bright sting of the flash had momentarily blinded us as the next picture was taken. Out of no where, both of our parents erupted into massive cheers. “Atta boy Shane!” Dad yelled still ecstatic. “This is it Patrick.” Mom had smiled. “We finally got our boy to smile Marie.” Dad smiled hugging her.

I shake my head and come back to now. The last photo I see is of Hershel and his wife, on their wedding day. Hershel looked much younger, his hair slicked back and his tie tight. I left after examining the photos, smiling over the smallest details. “So, I figured out what we can do to pass time while we’re here.” I smiled entering the room. “You are gonna stay?” He excitedly asked.

“Yeah, until you get tired.” “What are we going to do?” He smiled, slowly sitting up. “Well, Maggie found us Scrabble and Monopoly. What do you want to play?” I asked, placing the two games on the bed next to him.

He looked between the two and smiled. “Can we play monopoly?” “Definitely.” “Dibs on the Race car!” He stated excitedly. “Fine, Only if im banker.” I laughed. His smile became brighter, which I thought was impossible.

We set up the board and started the game.

After an hour or so I look up to see a smug smile on his his face.

At this point Carl had owned a majority of the board, and I was in jail.

“You are pretty good kid, I’ll give you that.” I smiled.

He looked at my piece in jail, and laughed.

“You’re back in there?” He kept laughing. “Okay, I have bad luck today.” “You were on a roll.” “I know!” I laughed with him. “Do you want my Get out of jail free card?” ‘When did you get that?” I asked genuinely intrigued. “When I picked up my chance card earlier.” He laughed.

Soon after the room was full of laughter between the two of us.

“Keep that for yourself, you might need it later.” I smiled. “Okay, don’t cry if I buy the rest of the board.” “Oh so the kids got game.” I play scoffed, causing him to laugh even more. “Okay sheriff, it’s your turn to roll.”

He rolled his eyes as he laughed more.

Picking up the die, he rolled them, getting a double three and moving up six spaces.

“You’re too good at this kid, you’re starting to remind me of Shane.” I chuckled.

I looked up to see a somber expression on his face.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” I asked putting my hand on his shoulder. “We shouldn’t be doing this.” “What do you mean?” “We shouldn’t be playing monopoly.” “We can play scrabble instead?” “No! We shouldn’t be having fun.” He shook his head. “What makes you say that?” “Sophia is still missing. She should be here playing with us.” He sighed, looking down at his hands.

My heart broke for the boy in front of me.

Being the only kid in our group, his friend missing.

I can not even begin to fathom what is going on inside of his mind.

I open my mouth to say something, but I can’t find the words.

He lets out a small sob, places his head in his hands, his shoulders rising and falling with each sob.

I move the portable table aside and sit on the bed, pulling him into a hug, my hand gently rubbing his back.

“Hey, hey, hey... it’s okay.” I tried to calm him down. “It’s not fair! She should be here!” He mumbled against my chest, in between sobs, pulling me closer. “I know it’s not kiddo...” I sighed hugging him tight. “I miss her (Y/n).” “I know... I do too.” I agreed lightly stroking his hair back. “We will find her right?” He asked pulling back and looking up. “I hope so...”

He nodded in response and yawned, now rubbing his bloodshot eyes.

“It’s time for you to get some sleep.” I smiled softly as I stood up, tucking the blanket over him as he laid back down. “Thank you for hanging out with me today.” He whispered. “Hey, you’re family now. You don’t need to thank me for hanging out with you.” I smiled pushing his hair out of his face.

He softly smiled back. As I left the room, I could hear voices talking and laughing from the kitchen. Walking down the hallway, I soon arrive to the kitchen, stopping and leaning against the doorframe. “Well, what’s going on here?” “Do you remember what we spoke about this morning ?” Carol asked.

I nodded. ‘Well, Lori spoke to Patricia, asked if we could use their kitchen to make them a nice meal.” “I take it, that it obviously went well.” I smiled.

“Well, we thought it’d be great.” Beth smiled wide. “In that case, is there any room for an extra pair of hands?” “Hey, there’s always room for you.” Carol chuckled. I entered the kitchen and stood at the sink, next to Lori who was washing some potatoes under the running water. I smiled as I looked at the others, Carol wiping the dishes, Beth and Patricia at the table in the centre of the room, chatting. i grabbed the already washed potatoes and started to peel them. “Potatoes are the best.” I exclaimed. “Seriously, Potatoes could have been used as currency hundreds of years ago!” I laughed.

“Oh yeah? I never thought I'd be so happy to see a potato. I'm just glad we're not roasting squirrels over a fire in the woods.” Lori chuckled. “Thank you, Patricia, so much for letting us into your home.” She finished.

Patricia looked up from her spot at the table and smiled.

As Lori washed the potatoes I peeled them and cut them up for boiling.

We had put a ham into the oven to cook, and stringed beans on the stove ready to boil. Carol decided to wash the dishes as we went along. The next half an hour as we prepared the meal were just full of laughs as we joked and talked to one another.

When I finished the potatoes I walked over and helped Carol with the dishes. I kept my gaze outside of the window.

“Go.”

My head snapped to the right. “What?” “I said go.” “Why?” I chuckled softly wiping the plate in my hand down, and placing it on the counter.

“(Y/n). We have this covered.” Carol smiled. “Carol-“ I was cut off. “Is right. Go. See if he is back yet.”

I turned my head and looked at Lori. Who waved her hands in a shoo motion. I looked around the room to see all of the girls smiling at me. “Are you guys sure?” “Just go.” They all said in unison.

“Okay, okay.” I put my hands up in surrender as Lori lightly snatched the tea towel out of my hand and playfully hitting me with it. I lightly squealed as I jumped away from her.

As I got to the entrance way of the kitchen I look back to see the girls all smiling and giggling again. I smile as I see the normalcy of it, that we all so desperately need. It was Shanes birthday party, all of the men and the boys were outside on the grill, while all of the women were inside making snacks and refreshments. “Pumpkin! Where is my little Pumpkin?” Echoed throughout the house. I giggle softly from my little hiding spot.

“Surely, my little pumpkin isn’t hiding from me!” The same voice called out, legs walking in front of the small end table.

I put my hand over my mouth so she couldn’t hear me. The legs stopped directly in front of the table. “Marie, I can’t find pumpkin anywhere!” I heard my mothers laugh from the kitchen. “She will come out sooner or later Jean!” She called back.

Grandma Jean sighed and turned away slightly and walked towards the kitchen. “Its such a shame. I dont know who can be my taste tester.” She dramatically sighed.

I moved the dangling laced cloth from in front of my eyes and poked my head out from my cover. The coast was clear, so I made my move.

I quietly crept out of my hiding spot, making sure wasn’t seen. My little feet carried me to the kitchen to see mom with all of my aunts and my grandmothers. Aunty Tania, Aunty Ruth and Aunty Sarah were standing along side one another with their ice cold lemonade that Grandma Jean had made. Grandma Paula and her partner Sophia, or Grandma Sophia as we called her, were cutting all different types of sandwiches into triangles and taking the trays outside as mom and Grandma Jean were rolling out cookie dough and making her special ’Triple chocolate, white fudge swirl cookies’ that made her a family favourite on both her side of the family and on moms side of the family.

I watched in awe as the seven women laughed and joked and smiled at one another’s stories and tales.

“Hey Ma, Your pumpkin is in the foyer.” My Auntie Sarah stated as she noticed my presence, exhaling the smoke from her cigarette out of the side window. “I told you that she would come out soon Jean.” Mom jested as Grandma Jean swatted her away. I smiled lovingly at the memory, completely turning to the front door.

As I opened the door, the first thing I see was Dale and Andrea talking to each other.

Dale on the ground looking up at her as she kept watch. Dale had said something else before entering the RV. I smiled, knowing that slowly the two were going to make amends. I start to descend the stairs. “Walker! Walker!” She yelled out, causing the rest of our group to run and grab their melee weaponry. Shane was carrying a short handled hoe/pickaxe. “Best let us handle this!” I heard Shane call out. The guys all ran towards the walker, all but Dale who tried to get Andrea to lower the gun. My stomach was churning, as though something bad was going to happen. “Andrea, don’t shoot, let them handle it.” Dale had half climbed the ladder trying to stop Andrea, as she lined up the shot. “Dale, give me those binoculars please.”

He handed them to me. Looking through the binoculars I see the others in front of the walker. Searching I notice that it isn’t a walker, its Daryl, he looks like one, with Rick pointing a gun to his head. After a second he lowers the gun.

I smile and lower the binoculars. I look up to Dale and Andrea. “Guys, it’s-“ I was cut off by a loud echo, my eardrums ringing from the intruding sound. My heart feels like it’s stopped, everything was in slow motion. I look over the field and see Daryl drop. Tears fill the brim of my eyes. “No, no no no no.” I muttered. I threw the binoculars to the ground and took off in a sprint. “(Y/N)!” Dale called out. I ignored everything, I fought the pain in my chest as I pushed harder and faster to get to him. There was a broken fence ahead, so I sprint toward it and vault myself over it stumbling as I landed, but pushing myself to get back up and get to Daryl.

My cheeks felt cold as the wind harshly blew against the tear soaked skin. “Daryl!” I called as I got closer to the group, watching as Shane and Rick lifted him up.

I started to slow down, the closer I got. “Is he okay? Is he breathing?” I asked frantically as I grabbed his face in-between my hands and searched it for a bullet hole, seeing a harsh line on his scalp on the left side. I could hear footsteps behind me. “oh my god. Oh my god, is he dead?” Andrea asked. “Unconscious. You just grazed him.” “Oh thank god. Im so relieved.” I scoff and push past her.

“Whats that about?” She scoffed. “Andrea, just leave it.” Shane called as we kept walking.

“No Shane, im not going to leave it.” She grabbed my shoulder and pulled me back. “You could’ve killed him.” I sneered. “What?” “Daryl. You could’ve killed him.” “I didn’t though, I missed.” “You only just missed Andrea! I told you not to shoot! And you didn’t listen.” I snapped.

“(Y/n)-“ she started to talk. “I don’t want to hear it.” I held my hands up and backed away, shaking my head as I turned around.

Behind me, I could hear T-dog start to speak up. “Guys…”

I continued to follow Rick and Shane, not wanting to leave Daryl’s side.

“Guys….” He spoke louder. We all stopped and turned. My eyes landing on the small doll in his hand. “Isn’t this Sophia’s?” He asked, holding it slightly higher in the air. I look at the doll and more tears brimmed my eyes.

Daryl finding Sophia’s doll, meant that we are closer to finding her than we have been before. My head snapped back towards where Daryl was hung between Rick and Shane, after hearing a small groan.

“Lets get him back, get checked out by Hershel, then we can ask him about the doll.” Rick stated as they turned back toward the farm house.

I kept on their heel as we got closer and closer to the house. I looked up and noticed everyone standing outside in front of the house. “What happened?” Hershel asked as soon as we were in earshot. “He was shot, it was an accident.” Rick said glancing at Andrea. “Get him inside. I’ll take care of the wounds.” Hershel nodded. I felt someone pull me into their arms and into a hug, which I return. “He will be okay.” Lori spoke. “I know.” I nodded, slowly stepping back. “Im just going to uh-“ I paused. “Just going to go in and wait.” “I’ll come with you.” She stated, walking behind me.

We followed the others inside, and sat against the wall across from the room the guys were in. I sat my knee’s against my chest and laid my head against them. I felt a hand run across my shoulders and sighed as I turned my head and looked at Lori. “Everything will be okay.” Lori paused. She nodded her head.

“Just you see, everything will be okay.” She sighed.

Series Masterlist Next Part

#daryl dixion imagine #daryl x you #daryl dixon #daryl x reader #daryl fanfiction #The Walking Dead #norman reedus

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capricornus-rex · 5 years ago

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A Legacy Begun (5)

gif not mine. found and saved in pinterest

Chapter 5: The Child | Cal Kestis x Reader

Summary: After a long time of running and fighting, you and Cal decided to finally settle down after all these years to raise a family. However, it was never a life of peace whilst the shadow of the Empire looms over your heads.

Other prompt/s in play: Anon 1′s prompt, Anon 2‘s baby prompt + their follow-up prompt & fic idea

A/N: Don’t worry, no one died of sadness after giving birth.

Also posted in AO3

Tags: Scruffy! Cal Kestis, Daddy! Cal Kestis, Adult! Cal Kestis, Jedi Family, Jedi Offspring, Force-Sensitive Offspring, Settling Down, Rebel Alliance

Chapters: 1 – 2 – 3 | Previous: Part 4 | Next: Part 6 | Masterlist

5 of ?

The months flew by, it only felt like yesterday when you told the news and now you’re currently in the ninth month. Any day now, the baby would be due. But you haven’t felt the signs yet.

The feeling of not holding a lightsaber and seeing action for a while was perhaps the biggest adjustment you’ve ever made; recalling the years where you’ve kept yourself low from the Imperials’ radar and having to limit the times you held your saber, this was far different than that.

To pass the time, you and Cal often strolled together just to keep yourself active. The Mantis continued its travels from time to time, but it would always find itself home in Cerinda and would occasionally return to Bogano for old time’s sake. The two of you stopped by the stream that branched out of the lake, something about that part of the forest became like a magnet to the both of you. Even in your expectant state, you were still the same sprightly girl who would dip her toes into the cold water at any given chance.

“I’ve been thinking,” you began. Beaming brightly and excitedly as you spoke, “I want to have our baby in this one planet that my master and I used to go to for a campaign.”

“Oh?” Cal propped his cheek against his fist, dreamily gazing at you while you pluck flowers by the shoreline and set them floating into the gentle current.

“The planet, Ilaro,” you craned your head to him. “It’s a neutral planet by the Outer Rim, but it’s very peaceful there. No Imperials, no fighting,”

He heard you sigh as you daydream about the planet in your mind. He kept smiling as he listened.

“If only you’ve seen it, Cal—oceans clear and bright blue like the sky that they almost conjoin, the city that Master and I went to was so extravagant yet quaint, much like Reema here but a bit bigger,” you trail off, and then smiled as the last, finishing thought entered your mind and turned to your husband. “And oh, I know the perfect place for us: by the hillside north of the city. There’s another town there, it’s small but I think it’ll do for us,”

He hummed in reply, enamored by your idea but mostly at your radiance. You couldn’t stay mad at him for only half-listening. You’re endeared by his droopy, dreamy eyes and the smile that still stood out even through his stubble that he personally kept to a certain thinness of his liking.

“What is it?” you giggled.

“You’re just so beautiful,” he cooed. “I just can’t help but stare even while you talk, I’m sorry.”

You caress his scruffy jaw, he willingly inches to you as he comes in for a kiss. You secretly chuckled when his stubble tickled you and you liked it when he did.

“I can’t stay mad, darling,”

That afternoon, you tended to the plants in the terrarium, shearing the weeds and other overgrowth that crowded the soil bed. It sooner became half a flower garden and a half a medicinal herb garden, you and Merrin shared sides of the terrarium respectively; Greez was cooking up some lunch while Cere continued her favorite pastime of splicing and hacking Imperial communications, but also found out about how to trace long-range frequencies as far as two to three parsecs.

“Have you ever thought if they’re a boy or a girl, [y/n]?”

“I have, but my mind changes every now and then—one day I’ll think it’s a boy, and then the next it’s a girl,” you chuckled. “Cal and I have been debating the same thing.”

“You’re at your ninth month, anyway. I’m sure it’ll come soon,”

“Yes, soon,” you trailed off echoing the Nightsister’s words.

Later, Cal came back with game that he had hunted in the forest’s inner meadows. One of Cerinda’s fauna that you’ve found a taste for was the Chorcap—a medium-sized, horned quadrupedal animal, it was slightly shorter than a Nerf in height and less hairy too, but it was stocky in build, making it prized for their meat. Merchants in Reema would buy for the horns, butchers would get portioned cuts, and Cal would haggle with those butchers for the portions.

“I’m back,” Cal chirped as he entered the ship. “Got some extra Chorcap on the road.”

“Oh finally! I thought this stew would never be done if it weren’t for you,” Greez grunted.

“Relax, Greez, here—the seasonings you asked for,”

Cal tossed a pouch to Greez to which the captain expertly caught with his bottom right arm and continued to stir the pot. He greeted you with a kiss on the cheek as you tended the little indoor garden and seated himself by the dining table.

“That smells good!” your husband exclaimed.

“Without these spices, my stew would be as bland as unfermented Merenzane Gold!”

From time to time, you’d conceal your expressions whenever your belly contracted. You’ve pretty much anticipated the baby’s due, but it was the pain that you tried to hide—not wanting to disturb everyone at your expense.

Minutes later, Greez called everybody for lunch, you helped in setting the table and serving out the helpings for each plate. The aroma of the stew wafted around the Mantis, making all the stomachs rumble, and come running towards the table. Lunch became more animated as conversations and topics volleyed here and there. You turned to BD-1 perched over the rim of the table between the lounge.

“Say, BD, do you still have the scan of the Binog?”

“What for?”

“Oh, you’ll see, hon,” you ended it with a smile.

After lunch and helping with the dishes, you retreated to the bedroom with BD-1 perched over your shoulder. You seated yourself by the workbench, producing spools of thread, buttons, filler cotton, and fabrics of different colors—all coming from the business district in Reema. You produced a holodisk and held it close to the droid

“Can you transfer the Binog’s hologram scan here, BD?”

“Wooo!” the little droid whirred out its splicer and connected itself to the holodisk’s port. Seconds later, the hologram of the great creature of Bogano flickered above the holodisk’s projector.

“Thank you, BD,” you rewarded the droid with head pats before starting with your work.

You drew patterns for each part of the animal and then sheared them piece by piece. Holding them together with pins, you started sewing the main body first—leaving an opening for the stuffing later—and then moved on to the legs and tail. Your slender fingers gracefully twisted, curled, and threaded with the stitches as you went on—pushing the needle and then pulling the thread—until it was starting to take shape. Glancing at the projection every once in a while to check if you’re getting the likeness correctly.

“Booo!”

“That’s right, BD, I’m making the Binog—though a smaller version, for the small one,” you cooed.

When the limbs and tail have joined the body and head, the next step was to sew in the fins that lined its spine all the way to the tail and its ears. You had the patterned fabrics at the ready, you just needed to stitch them. Cal walked in to the bedroom, finding you sitting back relaxed while sewing together a toy Binog.

“That’s actually pretty cute,” he beamed.

“Thank you, but it’s not finished yet,”

The finishing touches were the button eyes. A pair of solid black buttons were secured in an X-like stitch on its head. Two tiny white triangles were sewn along the mouth for its fangs that peeked out even with the actual creature’s mouth closed. Finally, BD-1 helped you stuff the toy with the cotton since his little claws could fit the openings you left for each body part.

“Thanks for your help, BD,” you sealed the filler openings and held it in your hand. “There we go!”

“That’s adorable,” your husband commented.

Even if it was never your intention to worry everybody—your husband, especially—you just couldn’t control the instance where your knees buckle and your muscles felt like tightening with a great force. As you struggled to stand up, everybody in the ship was alarmed by your cry of pain. All of a sudden, the swirling in your stomach started to tense up.

“The baby’s coming…!” you struggled to calmly breathe.

“Cere! Merrin!” Cal cried, scooping you up from your seat at the workbench and carefully settling you down on the bed.

“Whoa, whoa, what’s happening!?” Greez was infected with the same panic and alarm as the two ladies. The captain definitely heard your cries, he just didn’t think the baby was coming now.

Your ankles jerked as your toes curled tightly, your hand gripped the sheets as you tried to fight off the contraction pains. Cal ignored the hard grip that’s crumpling his sleeve as you broke down sobbing in pain.

“I know a place!” Cere exclaimed. “Captain, set a course to Polis Massa! Grid coordinates K-20, NOW!”

“It’s two parsecs away via jump to hyperspace!” Greez argued.

“Captain, just do it!” the woman snapped back.

“You’re gonna be okay, [y/n], do you hear me?” Cal’s voice cracked while squeezing back your free hand.

“[y/n], breathe,” Merrin calmly chanted, it became her mantra to you as the minutes went on.

The jump to lightspeed felt like an eternity as you battled the excruciating pain. Your body tossed and turned, finding a position where the cramping hurt less. Your legs thrashed, your vision blackened around the edges as you struggled to breathe in a slow pace—it only lessened the cramping to an extent but you don’t know for how long you could hold it.

Cere came barging in the bedroom.

“We’re near our destination. How is she holding up?”

“She’s trying to breathe calmly, I strongly object in using my magick on her,” the Nightsister reported.

“My head is burning!”

Cal pressed the back of his hand against your forehead, “She’s having a fever! How much farther until we reach Polis Massa?”

Before Cere could reply, the feedback of Greez’s microphone crackled through the speakers.

“Hold on, folks! It’s gonna be a bumpy ride!” the Lateron announced.

Cere sprang back to the cockpit, swerving and catching her balance as the ship rumbled. The turbulence didn’t help much, but you kept holding onto Cal’s hand.

“Cere, you didn’t tell me that we’re running into an asteroid field!”

“Because Polis Massa is on the asteroid field!”

“And this is a medical station we’re talking about!”

Greez steered closer to the largest asteroid until he found a cluster of silver infrastructures sticking out on the largest rock in the field. Cere had no further qualms about that, she turned and tapped the buttons and knobs on her communication station in the ship to send the urgent transmission.

“This is Jedi Cere Junda, we are in need of urgent medical assistance! A crew member has gone into labor and is about to give birth, please!”

“Transmission verified, you are allowed to dock. We’ll have a ward and medical droids ready for her,”

The medical droids stationed there were on full alert, a couple of the wardens came out of the building with a gurney prepared for you as they anticipated your arrival. The ship maneuvered and hovered carefully by the landing pad.

“We’re here,” Cal whispered to you, hoping to console you.

“Where are we?” you murmured.

“Polis Massa,” he scooped you up from the bed, carried you all the way out of the Mantis and then laying you down on the gurney waiting for you.

The female wardens briskly pushed your gurney towards the medical bay and then to the available ward that was ready for you. The human nurses cooed and whispered to you in comforting, melodic voices; coaxing you and telling you everything down to the littlest detail.

“We’re going to carry you to the next bed, alright?”

“Okay…” you replied, your eyes were too heavy to direct your vision to whichever nurse was speaking to you.

The nurses traded diagnoses with one another and then relayed them to the medical droids, reflecting your vital signs onto their computers and holographs.

“Vitals are fine, no remarkable findings,”

“Blood pressure is stable,”

The nurses helped you lift up your knees as a midwife droid hovered slowly towards you. The entire crew watched through the glass wall of your room, they all leaned against the opposite wall but it was your husband who eagerly stayed behind the glass.

“Is she going to be alright?” he asked the one nurse who exited your room.

“Yes, it’s good that you’ve brought her here on such short notice,”

“We were only two parsecs away from here,” Cere added.

The nurse had allowed Cal to enter the ward—for only one non-patient was permitted to accompany the patient—he sat by your side, close to your head. He stroked your hair as you take deep breaths before pushing.

Cal watched the red fill your cheeks as you tried to push, following the pace of the midwife droid that’s coaxing you. He ignored your screeching cries, he wiped away the tears that rolled away from your eyes as you breathed through clenched teeth, preparing for the next.

An infant cry filled the room, Cal’s head instantly turned to the end of the bed where the midwife droid held your newborn—he watched the droid clean the infant on the spot and swaddle it in a soft, white sheet. He stood up and held the tiniest human being he’s ever seen in his entire life. A tinge of orange strands adorned the little one’s head.

“It’s a girl,” he gasped.

He approached you with your daughter in his arms, he held her close to you so you may look at her crumpled, crying little face.

“Cassidy,” you whispered.

Cal heard you utter the name. You traded glances and he smiled. A teardrop glimmered at the edge of his eye.

“Cassidy.” He echoed. The baby’s tiny hand hooked around his finger and he could’ve sworn he felt his heart burst out of his ribs, “My little Cassidy.”

He held his baby daughter right in front of him. Dark, round, shining eyes blinked back at him as Cassidy’s stubby arms squirmed, lightly hitting his cheeks and jaw with smooth, soft hands.

“She has your eyes,” Cal choked.

“She has your hair,” you manage a chuckle.

“You did great, darling,” he sat down, level to you and planted a kiss on your forehead while the Mantis crew watched the little family have their greatest moment yet.

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quirkykayleetam · 5 years ago

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Empty Shell

Hello! This is an entry in the Broken Pieces series. The previous piece is Kind Restraints and can be found by that title or the tags of any of the main characters.

“We have a problem.”

Special Agent Daniel Wei looked up from his desk at Morgan Security to find his boss scowling down at him. He took a sip of coffee.

“You remember that Jonathan kid?”

Daniel nodded. How could he forget?

Despite the “Security” in the name Morgan Security, most of his assignments since joining the firm eight years ago were pretty tame. Intimidation was the name of the game for the most part. Sometimes he got to make people feel safe. Those days he drank less coffee and whistled on the car ride home.

What happened with the kid...? Daniel hadn’t seen anyone hurt that badly since his time in the service. He tried not to dwell on the fact that all that damage was done a 26-year-old civilian just protecting his job, but the image of Jay’s protruding ribs still woke him up at night.

“It’s his caretaker. Apparently she ordered Jones around like a schoolboy. Spit in Wilson’s face for good measure. They’re off the case, effective immediately.”

“Who is she?”

“Some brood named Evelyn or Emily or something, though the boys are calling her something else.”

Daniel’s boss chucked. Daniel didn’t.

“Look, Wei, I know it’s not your usual gig, but this whole thing is still on a need-to-know basis. I got managers breathing down my neck that nobody else even hears a fart about what happened.”

Unceremoniously, he dropped a bundle of blue medical files on Daniel’s desk.

“As of now, you’re the kid’s case worker for the firm. You screw this up and it's your neck on the line, not mine, you hear me? The whole thing was fucked from the start if you ask me.”

Daniel didn’t hear him. All he could see were the pictures closely documenting the welts, cuts, and bruises down Jay’s left side. They must have been taken the night of his rescue sometime after Jay passed out in Daniel’s trunk.

The agent took another long drought of coffee. Apparently he was going to have more nightmares tonight.

Daniel arrived early at the hospital the next morning.

Jay was already awake. A nurse in pink patterned scrubs slowly spooned swallows of lukewarm eggs into the patient's mouth.

Daniel looked away.

He pretended it was for Jay’s sake. Being spoon fed had to be a humiliating reminder of the computer scientist’s immobilized hands.

In reality, he couldn’t handle the look in Jay’s eyes.

Jay stared unseeing at the blank hospital wall in front of them. It was as if they came back to themselves any further they’d have to feel the pain and trauma and heartbreak of everything they went through and, at least now, early in the morning, forced to rely on strangers and IVs and pain meds just to survive, Jay’s body couldn’t handle it. It reverted into an empty shell.

Instead, Daniel found the figure slumped near the opposite wall. Elizabeth “Beth” Martinez, 38-year-old Art Department secretary at Landring Community College, looked like she’d collapsed more than fallen asleep in the stiff metal chair by Jay’s bed. Her mouth hung open a little and her hands stretched out on the armrest toward Jay. A rumbled duffel bag huddled under her feet. It couldn’t have held more than two sweaters and three pairs of socks, but Beth obviously wasn’t leaving that room unless she had to.

A flurry of movement brought Daniel’s eyes back to the nurse and her charge.

“We’ve just got a new protein shake in. It’s chocolate! I know it’s just breakfast, but you need to get some meat on your bones.”

She set the brown liquid and straw within reach of Jay’s mouth, but instead of taking a sip, Jay’s eyes went wide.

Jay lashed out, spooking the nurse and sending thick chocolate liquid puddling across the tile floor. Before Daniel could blink, Beth was by Jay’s side, rubbing their back as they buried their face in her neck.

“Don’t drink it! Don’t drink it, Beth!” Jay half yelled, half sobbed.

“I won’t. I promise, Jay.”

“It...It’s poisoned. You never know how it’s gonna hurt you, but it always does. I know, I know I need it. I have to stay alive, have to keep them away from you, but I’m tired, Beth. I’m so weak and tired, I don’t know what to do…”

With gentle hands, Beth gripped both sides of Jay’s face. She moved them upward until she could look Jay in the eyes.

“Jay, when you were at Princeton and your dad died and you drove miles and miles home in your roommate’s car just so you could be there for your mom as soon as possible, were you weak for wanting to sleep when you got back?”

“N...No.”

“It’s okay to be tired, Jay. It’s like, I don’t know, warriors on watch. You’ve done your job protecting us. Now it’s your turn to rest so we can take care of you.”

Daniel Wei left the hospital without a word. He had work to do.

***

Weeks later, the agent returned to find Jay sitting at a table on the other side of the room. Their hands were still in splints. They still had dark circles under their eyes. They stared at the table like its solid plastic was grounding them.

Daniel bit back a sigh as the kid didn’t even look up as he entered the room.

Then there was a kerfuffle behind him.

“Aha!” Beth said, bursting through the door. “I finally found a nurse who doesn’t do the Chronicle Sunday crossword at ass o’clock in the morning! Jay-bird we are good to go.”

Jay’s eyes lit up as Beth smacked the paper down in front of him and grabbed another chair. For the first time, Daniel realized they were blue.

“Bet you stole it,” they said quietly.

Beth hand flew out of her purse where she was rooting for a pencil and struck above her heart.

“I am deadly offended that you would even think that I would stoop to such things, especially on the day of our Lord! I asked, thank you very much! Besides, if you’re so against stealing, maybe I shouldn’t give you your other treat…”

“You’d withhold a treat from a poor invalid?” Jay deadpanned. “Oh my poor arm.”

Beth chucked. Jay smiled.

“I know you’re having trouble with straws, Jay-bird, but I thought, maybe…”

Beth pulled a purple aluminum can out of her purse.

Jay leaned forward eagerly, but then made himself pause.

“Am I allowed to…?”

“Hell, I don’t see why not! They’re trying to get calories into you anyway that they can. Junk food is only gonna help with that!”

Beth popped the tab on the Grape Crush and stuck a straw in it, moving it toward Jay as she nudged his foot companionably.

Tentatively, Jay took a sip. Then a swig. Then a gulp that took up half the bottle.

“Whoa, slow down there Jay-bird. They will kick me out of here if you die from a sugar high.”

“It tastes like capitalism,” Jay sighed.

“And?”

“And not like hospital food!”

“Good! Then this will be the first of our illegal smuggling adventures, deal?”

“Deal.”

There was a pause as Jay savored his soda.

Daniel cleared his throat.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, Jay,” he said. “I’m Special Agent Daniel Wei from Morgan Security. Would you mind if I borrowed Ms. Martinez for a few minutes?”

Jay looked at Beth who nodded wearily and got up to follow Daniel out the door.

***

As soon as Daniel and Beth got settled in an empty conference room, her whole demeanor changed. Her smile slid into a tight thin line and she squared her shoulders even as they fell a few inches.

“So, Agent,” she said. “When are we going to be able to get him out of here?”

“Jay’s casts home off in two weeks. If he passes all his physical examinations, I don’t see any reason for him to stay longer than that.”

“Good. And where we’re going? I assume you’ve got all of that sorted. There are a few things I’d like to bring with me, but everything else can go.”

Beth clenched her jaw as she said the words.

Daniel closed his eyes.

Here was a woman trying to hold the world together for a kid who’d completely lost his life. In the process she was losing hers too. If he made her, she would have to go back into that hospital room and tell Jay that everything was working out perfectly even if she didn’t know where they were going to be tomorrow or what Morgan Security would require of them. And she’d do it. He could see that weary determination in her deep brown eyes and he knew exactly how hard she’d come down on all of them if they pushed Jay too hard.

“We’ll continue to pay for your old apartments as long as we need to,” Daniel promised. “You’ll be able to get your stuff whenever you need to, whether that means going back yourself or letting us hire folks to get it for you. We won’t make you leave things behind. Not when they’re as important as Grape Crush.”

Beth didn’t smile, but her shoulders relaxed a little.

“As for where you’re going…”

Daniel passed a manila folder across the table to Beth.

“The firm picked out a safe house with the latest security. It’s off the grid with the best locks and monitors and motion detectors money can buy. And, for lack of a better word, it’s a bunker. I saw the place where they were keeping him Ms. Martinez. I thought Jay might prefer something more homey.”

Holding his breath, he took out another file.

“This holding just came on the market. It’s not far outside the city. You’d have to drive longer for doctor’s visits, but you’d have access to a public pool and a park a few blocks away. I made sure that it was only one story so you wouldn’t have any problems with dizziness and falling from Jay’s pain medications.”

“And it has windows,” Beth said softly.

“And it has windows,” Daniel said. “It looks like a home.”

He cleared his throat.

“There is one more thing about this property that you should know about that’s not in the papers.”

Beth looked up.

“I understand Jay has been seeing a Morgan Security psychiatrist.”

Beth almost sprung out of her chair.

“Look, I get it! You want to know what happened to him. You want him to tell you the story of every mark to make sure he didn’t tattle when they beat him half to death. Just don’t bring me into it. I’m not spying for you. I’m trying to make him better while you’re focused on your own damn pride!”

“I agree.”

“What?”

“Jay needs someone who understands what he’s going through and is focused on his recovery, not his worth to any company,” Daniel said calmly. “Next door to this address is Dr. Stephens. He’s an old army buddy who specialized in special service members and PTSD. This would not be his first time working with the aftereffects of torture. Jay might still have to meet with the Morgan Security doc for appearances sake, but Dr. Stephens has promised to see him off the books. Doctor/patient confidentiality would apply.”

That made Beth deflate completely.

“Do you really think this Dr. Stephens could help? Jay talks more in his sleep than he does in person. I still don’t know what’s going to set him off and I just…I just want him to feel safe.”

Daniel placed his hand on her, cold on the tan plastic table.

“So do I.”

***

Daniel returned Beth to Jay’s hospital room with the hope of a smile on his face. Before the could close the door, the pair started bickering about the answer to the crossword’s 27 Across. Beth held her pencil like a dagger while Jay batted at it with ineffective, casted hands. Through it all, their feet remained pressed together with comfortable pressure, reminding each other that they were there and they weren’t going away.

Like that night long ago when he rescued Jay, Daniel pulled out his cell phone and dialed Morgan Security. His boss picked up.

“No sir, there’s no problem,” Daniel said. “I just need to get a copy of the Chronicle delivered outside the city to Westover drive. Yes, this is a matter of great importance.”

Filling the “Empty Shell” square with Original Characters for @badthingshappenbingo! I think I’m setting a record for filling the most squares without actually making any of them line up lol.

Tagging the Broken Pieces Crew: (If you want to be added or taken off this list, just let me know!): @stoic-whumpee, @whatwasmyprevioususername, @whumpty-dumpty-fell-off-the-wall, @straight-to-the-pain, @castielamigos-whump-side-blog, @0idril0, @fallingstormphoenix, @whump-fantasies, @imagination1reality0, @whumpback-wail, @whump-tr0pes, @untilthepainstarts, @captivity-whump, @burtlederp, @redwingedwhump, @whumpiary, @captivity-whump, @blue-flare10

All credit to @stoic-whumpee for the idea of making Daniel a main character.

#Whump #Empty Shell #Hospitalization #Flashbacks #Hurt/Comfort #Aftermath #Jay #Beth #Daniel Wei #quirkykayleetam writes #Please pardon the language

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notaparty-trick · 4 years ago

Text

All Those Senseless Scars - Chapter 2

By @notaparty-trick for @asyouleft

@friendly-neighborhood-exchange

Rating: T

Relationships: Tony Stark & Peter Parker, May Parker & Peter Parker, Michelle Jones & Ned Leeds & Peter Parker

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, May Parker, Pepper Potts, Michelle Jones, Ned Leeds

Summary: There is a rule to the way Peter lives now. He didn’t know it at first, but he learnt it.

It’s simple.

To earn what he needs to survive, he has to make sacrifices.

---

Peter Parker's life is derailed when he's kidnapped and kept in a white-tiled room with nothing: no windows, no cameras, no food, no water, no phone, nobody else. Only his own thoughts keep him from losing his mind. If he asks for anything, he must take punishment. Tony Stark will stop at nothing to bring him home.

Archive Of Our Own link here

The second Tony hits the floor, he wakes up.

Before even the throbbing of the back of his head, he notices the kid’s arms around him and recalls the last few minutes of his consciousness, the images of a blowtorch burning blue and of waxy crimson burns spidering across Peter’s face still horrifyingly fresh in his memory.

“Get a medical team to the front door right away,” he hears Pepper saying. Pushing himself hurriedly into a sitting position, Tony sees her crouched in front of them both, her widened eyes fixed on the kid.

The kid, whose every inch of skin is littered with bruises, lacerations, swelling, raised lines that look like whip marks. Who is gaunt and frail and half-naked and blue from cold.

“What should you expect, you asked? Cho, I don’t know what to say. He’s… everything. Just, every kind of injury you could think of.”

Tony has spent twenty sleepless nights looking for Peter Parker.

He’d first begun to suspect that something was amiss when he shut up his workshop for the night and realised he’d never received the quiet ping he’d programmed Karen to send which indicated that the kid had returned safely home from patrol. The protocol had been designed so Tony would get a ping from the Spider-Man suit the moment it entered the Parker abode, and, on the flip side, would send through an alert if he stayed out past his curfew, so the radio silence was what began to raise red flags.

Tony had shoved his paranoia aside for the moment and simply called the kid.

Nothing.

After three missed calls, he patched it straight through, the guilt of prying fading in comparison to a need to assure the kid’s safety, but FRIDAY had pulled him up short. “Boss, it is impossible for me to trace his phone or suit. They do not exist.”

“Sure, they exist. Be realistic, FRI. What do you mean?”

“The most likely explanation for this is that they have both been destroyed to the point where they no longer emit a tracking signal.”

Pushing out a deliberately measured breath, Tony ran his hands down his face in a habitual movement. “What are the chances he’s... destroyed all his tech and run off to join the Amish?”

“That is highly unlikely, Boss. Mister Parker spends an average of three hours on his phone every day.”

“Well - yeah. Shit.” Fighting back a growing wave of unease, Tony tried and failed to pull together some sort of plan of action which culminated in a tentative phone call to May Parker.

“If Peter’s with you right now and he hasn’t answered my texts,” she began without preamble, “You’re both in big trouble.”

Tony’s moment of silence drove her to an instant and terrifying conclusion.

“Tony, tell me he’s with you.”

“He’s off the grid. FRIDAY’s saying his suit and phone have been destroyed.”

“And what does that mean?”

“It means… I suppose we’re - we’re looking at a missing kid now.”

Tony remembers with harsh clarity the way May’s breath had caught.

“Fuck, Tony. He’s - that’s my baby.”

“I know, May, I know. Best not to get - we don’t know anything for sure. There’s a best-case scenario here.” Neither of them are convinced. They’re both catastrophizers when it comes to Peter, and for good reason: the kid gets whammied by the ugliest parts of life on the daily.

“And the worst case?” May ventured.

Words fled Tony’s mouth.

“There’s a place at the facility upstate if that’s where you wanna be. I’ll kickstart a search there.”

The plastered-on bravery in May’s tone fractured a little as she affirmed, “I’ll be right there.”

Tony called the NYPD. He gathered Rhodey and Happy and Pepper and a team of specialist SI security employees. He scoured footage and followed leads himself, gave every piece of information he had to the cops, sent out teams of drones to survey as much of New York as he could until, five days later, Pepper laid her hands on his shoulders and told him, “If you don’t rest now you’re going to be useless.”

“He’s still out there, Pep.”

She simply smiled sadly at him and repeated, “If you don’t rest now you’re going to be useless.”

“I can’t just rest.”

“Yes, you can. Come on.” She let him take her arm and guided him out of his chair as if he were fragile, ancient. “You’re going to take a hot bath. I’m going to warm up your favourite pyjamas. You’re going to take some sleeping pills, and I’ll be with you all night.”

“The kid needs me--”

“He does. He needs you to be strong, and to do that you have to sleep.”

“Make sure I’m up at five.”

“Six.”

“Five-thirty.”

As awful as it felt harbouring a head full of horrific images of what could be happening to the kid while he let his muscles unknot themselves in a tub of hot water, he awoke the next morning with renewed determination for his task.

Losing Peter was simply not an option.

“Whoever’s got him, they must know a lot,” May remarked over coffee as she watched Tony at work that morning. “To disconnect his suit, too.”

She left for a shift at the hospital a few hours later - as much as she wanted to be around during the search for Peter, her job didn’t allow her to take leave for her missing nephew, and she was determined to remain self-sufficient - but her statement stayed with Tony.

They must know a lot.

When Tony stopped searching for a lone villain and started picturing a group - an organisation of some sort - the pieces began to fit.

“Show me feed 4, the 2nd of February, at... 2 pm. One of the first drone searches I sent out, right?”

“That is correct,” FRIDAY chimed. “The feed begins just over a mile from this facility.”

And there it is. The small, ramshackle building by the freeway. He’d dismissed it at first as a broken-down shelter, but it’s too incongruous not to take a closer look now.

“Send in a scout. I want to see inside.”

Not a minute later, the miniature drone whirred through a chink in its wall and revealed a room that appeared completely unremarkable but for the circular trapdoor set into the centre of the floor.

After ten minutes of studying that trapdoor, realisation - a thunderbolt from heaven, the eureka moment inventors like him grasp at all their lives - strikes him. He notices the design: a circle broken by a diagonal hinge on the bottom right.

“Bring up the Oscorp logo,” he demanded urgently.

An image flew to join the paused feed of the trapdoor. A circle broken at the bottom right.

Oscorp.

Lunging for his phone, he patched a call through to Norman Osborn - how he came to store the fucker’s number, God only knows, but he was thankful for it then - and hoped his hunch was correct.

“You took the kid.”

“It took you long enough to figure it out,” Osborn had returned with a short bark of laughter.

As he takes in the state of Peter all over again in the doorway of the Compound, he wishes he’d killed Osborn personally. Painfully. Made him feel every inch of pain the kid must have gone through.

The kid. The kid he’d taken out for ice cream on his sixteenth birthday last summer. The kid whose screams are still freshly ringing through Tony’s mind.

He hovers his hands over the motionless body beside him, searching for somewhere to make contact with that won’t hurt the kid.

“Fucking hell, he just - we’re - he walked all the way back.”

Pepper ends her call and immediately looks to him, gaping, her composure discarded. “What the hell happened?”

“I found the place,” he blurts. “Tried to get him out, but I must’ve knocked my head. He… took us back.”

There’s a moment of stunned silence.

“You should get May on the line,” Tony says, trying to clear a path through his jostled brain. It throbs, but his heart aches more acutely.

Pepper just nods, rushing to find the number.

Swallowing away the breaks in his voice, he tugs off his jacket, shakes away the coating of dust from the explosion, and lays it across the kid’s back. He seems even smaller under it, like he’s shrinking by the minute to a shell of what Tony remembers him to be. Unwilling to gather him up and risk aggravating any of his injuries, Tony takes hold of one of his hands: there’s a litany of half-healed scrapes marring the knuckles, but all the fingers look to be in their proper place, which he can’t say the same of about the other. God. “Kiddo, are you awake? Can you try and open your eyes? I just - we’ve just gotta know you’re all good.”

“May, he’s here,” Pepper says. “We have - no, I’m sorry. He’s not awake. Just - come.”

Tony brings the limp knuckles to his cheek, then his chest. “Look, it’s okay to wake up now. Here’s my janky heartbeat. You always recognize it, remember?” He laughs hysterically, tearfully. Tony Stark is on the verge of tears. “We’ve got a team coming - they’re gonna get you on the good stuff, yeah? Stuff kids your age pay hundreds for. Lucky punk.”

Inexplicably, the kid’s eyelids choose that moment to begin dragging themselves open.

“Oh. Kid? Pete?”

Peter’s face screws up the moment he wakes; he groans, a dreadfully tormented noise.

In his peripheral vision, Tony spots the elevator doors opening to allow out an assemblage of medics.

“You’re okay, kid - it’s me, it’s your Mister Stark, yeah? We’re gonna get you all fixed up.”

“M’s… s’k,” Peter garbles.

“Uh-huh,” Tony assents, although he hasn’t a clue what the kid is trying to tell him.

His gaze is brimming with exhaustion, anguish, pain, a host of harrowing emotions that Tony doesn’t ever want to see there again, but through it all shines trust.

As the medics set down their equipment, he squeezes Peter’s hand and receives a slight twitching of the kid's fingers in response. Encouraged, he prepares to make full use of his skills in comforting monologues. “You’re gonna get lifted onto a gurney in just a second so we can get you tucked up in a bed and fixed up. Sounds good, doesn’t it?”

Peter whines, long and low and broken. After Tony had watched him rein in his response to pain in the white tiled corridor - the fierce, guarded demeanour he’d taken upon him - he reckons the kid deserves to cry out as much as he wants. He must hurt like hell.

Tony can feel it.

He keeps his hand locked around Peter’s as the medical team lifts him onto the gurney on his stomach, the kid locking his gaze on him as if his life depends on it. As he’s carried back towards the elevator, Tony jogs beside him. “And we’re off on a magical adventure to the MedBay,” he jests feebly. One side of Peter’s mouth actually lifts a little. “Get ready to sleep for a decade. I know you’ll love that. No more getting up at the crack of dawn to take the subway, doctor’s orders.”

The elevator takes them briskly upwards, but to Tony it still isn’t fast enough. Through his tirade of falsely-chipper reassurance, the medical team makes a cursory assessment of his injuries and responsivity.

“Your aunt is on her way. She’ll be here real soon, so expect a lot of kisses. From me, too. If that’s alright.”

“Sir, we need you to clear the room while we prep for surgery.”

“Oh.” They’re in an operating room, he realises dimly. “Yes.”

Although it tears at his primal protective instincts, Tony knows he has to step away for the kid’s ultimate wellbeing. Hysterics in the OR will do nothing to ease the process along.

Laying a hand over the crown of Peter’s matted hair, he tries to imbue his own strength into the kid through his touch, though all he’s got at the moment seems to be an overload of frenzied determination.

“Be brave for me, Pete,” he whispers.

There’s an affirmation of his request in Peter’s eyes, he thinks.

He steps away; the doors glide shut before him.

“Well, fucking hell,” he remarks to Pepper who he hears approaching behind him.

“Yes, fucking hell. Do you want to explain why you were passed out and slung over the kid’s shoulder?”

“I found where they’d kept him. Well, I didn’t know for sure, I just… I’m sorry. It was a gut instinct. Couldn’t slow down if there was a chance it was the right lead.”

“Who was it?”

“Oscorp. They brought him to me, and - God - they, he was…” his headache arrives in full force, half-knocking him off his feet with the sudden dizziness that accompanies it. “Maybe we can talk about this after I’ve got some Tylenol in me. Pretty sure I’ve got a concussion.”

“Okay.” Caring Pepper returns. “Let’s get you checked out, too.”

---

Peter opens his eyes to white tiles.

The pain he’d felt so potently the last time he’d been awake has dimmed significantly, leaving him with dull aches; a mattress cushions his smarting back. It’s heavenly, almost unreal.

“They said he’d only be out for an hour or two, right?”

“It doesn’t mean anything’s wrong, May. He’s just exhausted.”

It’s the familiar voices that bring him back to reality, that cement sweet relief in his heart.

Rolling his head to one side, he finds May attached to his hand.

May. May. May who smells of freshly-washed scrubs and orchids and home.

He flexes his fingers in hers and she startles, pressing her lips together in a trembling smile. “Peter, baby. Peter.”

At the affection in her words, a bright golden thing deep in his chest that has been left neglected in a white tiled corner for twenty-one days flares to life, thawing, easing him.

He attempts to turn his head the other way but finds a wad of gauze across the side of his head that prevents him from seeing all of Tony. He spots the elbows resting on his mattress, the downturned countenance harbouring something deep and raw.

Grief settles heavily in the room. Peter’s had enough of grief.

“Tha’ was,” he tries through his numb mouth, “Tha’ w’s a trip. An’ all I got w’s… was this…” He attempts to indicate himself with a hand but finds the arm that isn’t enclosed in May’s hand trapped by a sling and a number of casts.

Like the force of gravity has suddenly been applied to him and he’s hit the ground with a thud, Peter remembers the snap of those bones breaking, the wordless screams nobody had heeded, the bloodstains that had tarnished undulating white tiling, and feels a painful lump well up in his throat.

“I d’n’t even ge’ an’thing.”

A tear races unbidden down his cheek.

“That w’s a lousy joke. ’m sorry.”

The lamentation trapped within him has been caught behind his sternum for twenty-one days; now that it’s beginning to escape, it’s impossible to stop.

Peter swallows. Another tear falls, sinking into the gauze across his face.

“Hey,” May murmurs soothingly to him, “What’s up, sweetheart?”

Everything.

“Forgot how nice y’ were, May,” he tells her, trying to distract from his crying, trying to smile. The gauze and the numbness of the side of his face gets in the way. “Ev’ryone’s real nice ou’ here. Y’ were - m'ster St’rk, y’ came?”

“I did,” he receives in reply. He’s never seen his mentor look so wrecked.

It’s not every day he returns from a kidnapping, he supposes.

“‘M - ‘m back.” He feels as if he needs to say it aloud to solidify it.

“Yes, you are.” May brushes a fond hand across his hair, tucking away his still-dirty bangs. The touch is more tentative than her usual calming gestures, but she offers him a smile that, although plastered on, holds at least a fragment of genuine positivity. “Everyone’s very happy about that, you know.”

His mind turning to the days at school he never attended, the unanswered texts in his phone, the life he’d left behind, Peter tips his head back restlessly. “Di’ Ned… we were g’na…”

“He handled your World History presentation,” May says with a huff of laughter that is mirrored by Mister Stark. “Don’t you worry about it.”

“Goo’. Prou’ of him.” He is. He misses him and MJ like hell.

May’s countenance affects stern incredulity, although she can never muster up any real discipline while he’s bedbound. Peter has learnt this through a long period of trial and error where, after engaging in some form of stupid behaviour, she’d always wait until he was back on his feet to grill him out. With the state he’s in now, he guesses it will take a while this time. She chuckles wetly at him. “You walked yourself all the way back here, you crazy boy.”

Peter takes another hazy stab at lifting the mood: “Crazy, ‘s m’ - uh, my…”

“Middle name?” supplies Mister Stark, subdued.

“Mm. M’ middle name.”

The crease in his mentor’s brow sets off a warning pang in his chest.

“M’ster St’rk?”

“Yeah, kid?”

“Is ev’rythin’ all, uh…” his brain and mouth won’t work together to produce the words he wants. “All, all, um.”

Tony seems to sense the root of his concern. “You’re safe. I made sure of it myself. Multiple times. We have those guys handled, I promise.” He rests a hand on Peter’s knee, pats it a few times, but he gets the feeling that he’s holding back from doing something as intimate as wiping tears from where they’ve halted, quivering, in the hollows of his eye sockets. In a quiet corner of his mind, Peter wishes he would.

“Oh. ‘kay.”

He can’t quite bring himself to believe it.

---

The next time he wakes up, he’s gained a new level of coherence that leads him to take stock of the state he’s in. The dressing on his face feels damp but cool with whatever they’ve used to treat the burns. The burns he doesn’t want to think about.

There’s a splint and a layer of gauze across his nose to reset it; a cast on his hand, one on his forearm, and a sling holding the whole arm at a 90-degree angle. It alleviates the burning pain he’d barely even processed in his collarbone. He can feel a dressing across the lashes on his back, too, and an ice pack laid across his swollen ribs over the hospital gown he’s now dressed in. He’s free from a cannula, thankfully; there are just two IV lines trailing from the crook of his arm and the back of his hand respectively.

God, I’m a mess.

It’s certainly the most wiped-out he’s ever felt. His eyelids are ten-tonne weights.

The trouble comes when May offers him a plastic cup upon noticing his return to consciousness. “Do you want a couple of ice chips, honey?”

“Would you like some clothes?”

Peter’s heart picks up the pace.

“Uh, I - I don’ know.”

“You don’t know?” May presses, brows knitting, and he’s letting her down. She wants an answer.

“Wha’s, wha’s gonna happ’n?” he asks tremulously, recalling the thump of a whip descending on his back, the echoes of his own screams accompanied by the sickening cracking of bones, a million hands pressing him to the ground, and simply needing to know that he’s safe from it.

He is safe. He knows that. But a more primal part of him is terrified.

“What do you mean, baby? Are you feeling okay?”

From his accustomed place at Peter’s right side, Tony leans forward in his seat and interjects. “Hey, is this something to do with…?”

Peter isn’t sure why he says it. It just comes out. “T’ earn wha’ I need, I gotta take punishmen’.”

There’s an ugly silence. Tony sets a hand over Peter’s ankle; Peter can pick up the tremors in his grip. May chews on her lower lip.

“Kid,” Tony says quietly.

“‘M sorry, it just… that’s wha’ they said. I know ‘s not… bu’, uh, yeah. Sorry.”

“Hey, it’s fine.” Tony frowns good-naturedly, signalling a Mister Stark-patented statement on the way, and sure enough: “I don’t want to hear the word sorry out of your mouth for at least a month.”

It’s familiar, comforting, and helps Peter ground himself in the room, the hospital bed, the safe place.

He smiles wonkily at Mister Stark. “Y’know tha’s unrealistic.”

“Seriously, kid, are you gonna take the ice chips?” is the amusement-tinged response. Tony nods towards the cup now set down on the overbed table, his countenance radiating a schooled softness. “No strings attached, that’s a guarantee.”

“Sure,” Peter blusters, shrugging then regretting it as his collarbone is struck with a stabbing pain. “‘kay.”

May pushes a few chips into his mouth, softly pushing away his good hand, which he notices is weighed down by fatigue and more spindly than the last time he’d been in the MedBay. Almost a month of starvation does that to you, he guesses. The ice chips are heavenly against his arid throat.

“Is that how you got all banged up?” Tony inquires softly, re-igniting the previous thread of conversation, and although it unearths the reel of harrowing memories that blemish his recent past, something in Peter yearns to tell Mister Stark, to show him that he’d tried his best, even if it doesn’t appear that way.

He’d gotten captured, kidnapped, and absolutely wrecked, and he’d just waited around until Mister Stark had come to save him. Whether Oscorp was involved or not, it fosters a rankling sense of shame in his gut.

If you’re nothing without the suit, then you shouldn’t have it.

“Tony,” May hisses.

Peter nods anyway, the rustling dressing over his face irritating him. “Yeah.” He searches for Tony’s gaze, injects sincerity into his garbled speech. “I didn’ wanna ask f’r anything an’ I made it five days wi’out water. Bu’... I had to.”

“Course you did,” Mister Stark tells him with a startling level of empathy.

“I tried t’ be smart,” Peter continues, “S’ they wouldn’ hurt me t’ much.”

“Pete, I’m not grading you on how well you handled yourself in there. Relax. You got out, that’s all that matters.”

“You go’ me out,” mutters Peter.

The crow’s feet lining Mister Stark’s eyes deepen. “Same difference,” he affirms.

But it isn’t.

“Di’ you hear me, May?” he finds himself saying, blinking away a haze of rumination from his vision.

“What?”

“I called you in there, y’ know.”

The feel of the vintage telephone he’d wished into being is somehow more concrete than the real memories of pacing the floor and sleeping on the ceiling and not-crying and crawling when he became too weak to stand and screaming to a helpless Mister Stark as fire licked the side of his face.

“You - there was a phone?” May asks quizzically. She’s trying her very best to understand him, Peter knows, to listen to him and fix any problem he voices, to make it all better. It’s him who’s all over the place.

“No. There wasn’ anything. Just tiles. Bu’ I pretended. Thought y’ might hear anyway.”

His remark breaks something in May. With a sharp inhale, she pushes back her chair and stands, looking anywhere but at Peter, at the casts and dressings and stitches that hold him together. “You know what?” she says loudly, “I’m gonna - do you want a milkshake, Peter? I’m getting you a milkshake. Something nice to get you back to solid foods.”

She rakes a hand through her unwashed hair and leaves.

The mattress feels too soft for Peter now, dipping under his weight. He wallows in his own stupidity.

His memories are now too dark to share with May: she isn’t a superhero, just a woman who has lost her husband and who didn’t ask to be pulled into a world where she risks losing her nephew too. She didn’t ask to have another person to worry about, but here Peter is, breaking her heart. He almost wishes she didn’t care so ardently as she does, didn’t long so fruitlessly to protect him from the wear and tear of the superhuman world.

The silence between him and Mister Stark hangs heavily, riddled with tension and the shared recollection of Peter’s screams.

Only when Tony clears his throat and says, “I set you up a new phone,” is he pulled away from his thoughts.

“You di’?”

It’s tossed into his lap. “Go ahead and text your little Gen Z heart away.”

As hard as Peter tries to turn the device on and swipe over to his apps with his one uninjured hand, it just slips from his grip. His face reddens.

“M’ster S’rk?”

“Yuh-huh?” Mister Stark hasn’t yet noticed, having angled himself away from Peter a little and placed his head in his hands. At Peter’s sheepish call, he twists to face him again in a series of jerks. “Oh.” He lunges for the phone, newly sober. “Oh, yeah. How about I read everything out for you?”

In an instant, the notion of Mister Stark seeing all his texts manifests in all its horrifying glory, and Peter finds himself fearing something as trivial as the discovery of his awkward message history with MJ and nerdy conversations with Ned. It’s oddly relieving.

“Don’ spy on my texts,” he protests weakly. The blue light reflecting on Mister Stark’s face serves as a blatant reminder that his mentor might just be betraying him already.

Tony smirks. “I can’t not spy on them if they’re right there.”

Peter lets out a huff that he hopes conveys the entirety of his indignance, although he’s aware the side of his face that’s free of dressings probably doesn’t create a very threatening image.

“There you are,” Tony chuckles in the face of his display, “I was waiting for that little frown.”

“‘M not little.”

“If you say so, pipsqueak.”

Peter rolls his eyes as dramatically as he can. “Jus’ let me talk t’ Ned ‘nd MJ.”

“Video call?” Mister Stark suggests as if he hasn’t yet noticed the way Peter’s face must look.

The thought of his friends seeing the human punching bag he’s become cuts a sense of horror in him too deep for the lightness of the interaction he’s engaged in.

“No, no, no,” he rushes to say before hurriedly covering his panic with a languid shake of his head. “No calls. Text.”

“And you’re gonna dictate them to me like I’m a medieval scribe?”

“I dig tha’.” Peter finds himself letting out a short bark of laughter despite himself. He’s a melting pot of emotion, experiencing everything at once.

“I resent that,” retorts his mentor lightly.

“Suck i’ up, M’ster S’rk. ‘m an invalid, y’ gotta do what I say.”

Tony just swallows. Peter hopes he didn’t say the wrong thing again.

“Di’ Ned say anything?” he prompts eventually.

“A great many things. Forty-two, in fact.”

“Oh, man.” Just the thought of forty-two things makes his head spin. Ned probably went out of his mind. “Don’ think I c’d process tha’ right now. Jus’... tell him I’m alrigh’. ‘M alive an’ he can finish the Imperial S’r Destroyer wi’out me.”

“The Imperial Star Destroyer?” echoes Mister Stark, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Peter remembers the enthusiasm he used to hold for things like this. He tries hollowly but valiantly to recreate that excitement as he replies: “‘S got four thousan’, seven h’ndred an’ eighty four pieces, M’ster St’rk. Isn't tha’ crazy?”

His mentor’s eyes crinkle amiably as he regards Peter, shifting back a little in his seat as if the levity has physically purged some of his stress. “You built all of that?”

“We w’re gonna,” shrugs Peter.

“He’s typing already. It’s… I have to break it to you, Pete, but his fine motor skills seem to have declined significantly in the time you were gone.”

“Wha’ do y’ mean?”

“It’s just a string of random letters.”

“He’s keyb’rd smashin’, M’ster St’rk,” Peter giggles, ignoring the rasp of his throat.

Tony clicks his tongue. “I won’t even ask.”

Making an attempt to lean upwards in his bed and towards the glow of the screen in Mister Stark’s hands which is quickly aborted by the ache of his ribs and back, Peter urges, “Wha’s he sayin’ now?”

“I think I made out a holy shit somewhere in there… I’m gonna kill you, I thought you were dead… No, I am not finishing the Destroyer without you…”

Peter smiles.

“What happened? With an abundance of question marks.” Raising his eyeline with a dip of his brows, Tony studies him for a moment.

“Tell him i’ was S’ider-Man stuff an’ I got in trouble but ‘m alrigh’,” Peter tells him as firmly as he can.

“You’re not gonna tell him?”

“He’ll stress ou’.”

Setting aside the phone in favour of lacing his fingers together atop his lap, Tony sighs, heralding a lecture to come. “Kid, I won’t lie to you,” he says with surprising softness, “Not everything just goes away once you’re back in the world. Some things never do. You - you know that, right? You’re prepared for that?”

At that very moment, Peter is saved by the bustling entrance of May, who sets a creamy drink before him and smiles hopefully. “I got you salted caramel.”

“Th’nk you so much, May.” Inexplicably, it’s the drink, the way his enhanced senses pick up the rich, sugary smell and the slow bleeding of caramel syrup into the milky base, which rekindles passion in Peter, infuses a little color into his world. He lifts his hand until it rests on her arm, too weak to raise it further, and she sets her hand a little awkwardly but with sincerity over his.

“S’lted caramel’s the bes’.”

“I know, honey.” Returning his smile shakily, she squeezes his hand and tells him, “Now, I want you to enjoy it, okay? It’s - it’s your first...”

Where she trails off, he picks up. “My firs’ drink back in the real w’rld.”

May nods, blinking fiercely. Everything Peter does seems to upset her. So he shuts up and latches on to the straw of the drink.

It’s mind-blowingly good. It’s cool and thick and delicious and makes him feel a whole lot better.

“Can I swear?” he pipes up out of the blue. “Jus’ once?”

Mister Stark indulges him. “Go on.”

“H’ly fuck , I’ve missed s’lted caramel.”

---

Peter tried to escape. He did.

The second time he heard the rhythmic beat of boots nearing his cell, he leapt up onto the wall right beside the door, flattening himself against the tile in the hope that the masked group would be taken by surprise by his sudden attack. With nothing but unbridled terror on his side, he prepared to take out four armed guards who had wrestled him easily to the floor the day before.

The force of the group was unneeded, it transpired. As soon as Peter threw his first weakened punch, the room filled with the torturous whistle, making him drop to the floor in shock.

“Would you like anything?” he was asked mildly after the noise had ceased at last.

From his sprawled position on the floor, hands still covering his ringing ears, Peter shook his head vehemently. “No. Please, go away.”

White tiles spun with the dizzying motion of a carousel before his vision, the cacophony of retreating boots at odds with the thousands of dismembered feet he sees tramping across the unidentifiable orb of the cell. Peter bit back a cry of pain as the slam of the door assaulted his ears, rocking his head back and forth, back and forth, losing himself in the distracting motion.

His swallows became avalanches, blinking like the shutter of a camera pressed against his eyes.

“Oh, man,” he mumbled unevenly, nausea creeping up his throat. “Pull yourself together, Peter. Come on. Just - chill.”

It wasn’t the first time his senses had overloaded. The bout of sickness after the spider bite; his first overwhelming patrol; a school day he’d attended on a single hour of sleep; all had brought about these almost familiar symptoms. But before, he could crawl between his sheets, relaxing in the familiar scent of his room, and call it a day. He could stumble through his day in sunglasses and headphones, knowing it would pass. He could even lock himself in the dark, soundproofed room in the Compound - the isolation room - and shut out every sensation but his own breath and heartbeat. In his box, there was nothing to distract him from the frightening lack of control that came with the sensory overload but his own sheer willpower.

So he continued to rock back and forth for what could have been hours, simply waiting for the storm to pass by.

---

Peter wakes to a sweat-soaked hospital gown and a lump in his throat.

Sucking in a raw breath, he takes in the room: Tony stirring at his side and May passed out at his other. Nothing out of the ordinary. He burns all over, however, damp and shaky and aching.

“Kid?” Tony mutters, righting himself and rubbing at his eyes.

“Mister St’rk, I gotta go t’ the isolation room,” he blurts.

That gets Mister Stark up quickly. He takes in Peter’s taut face, his good hand clenched in the sheets, the beads of moisture at his hairline, and nods.

The transferral from his bed to a wheelchair is awkward and excruciating, with Tony struggling to bundle his fragile limbs and IV lines safely into the seat while Peter shuts his eyes against the red-hot pokers of Tony’s hands on him and the shifting of the synthetic overhead lights against his skull and the jostling of his arm and back and ribs and face. It’s worth it , he tells himself. Just a few minutes and there will be blissful silence.

“Nightmare?” Tony asks him in a hushed tone as he wheels him down corridors and into the lift.

“Flashback, I th’nk.”

Tony’s hand settles in his slick curls; he wordlessly combs them out, his touch feather-light, and it’s a welcome distraction from the deafening creaking of the cables around them.

Guiding him and his IV stand into the darkened room, he half-shuts the door and breathes, “Anything you need, give FRIDAY a command, remember? She won’t make any noise. I’ll come and get you out when you’re ready.”

“Thank you,” he whispers, his brain rattling with the volume.

The door is eased shut, leaving only blissful quiet.

Blissful for a short while, anyway.

Peter has never loved the isolation room. As helpful as it is to rebalance his senses, the very name reminds him of why it scares him - isolation. Now, bound to his wheelchair, hearing only his own heartbeat, all he can think of are the days in his cell wracked with pain too great to allow him to move but also gripped by terrible loneliness.

The fear of being alone has dogged him all his life. Re-starting his life without his parents. Watching Ben bleed out on the ground before him. Floundering under the weight of the collapsed warehouse. Never was it more starkly exposed, however, than the twenty-one days he’d spent in his box.

He’d been scared. He could have rotted there forever, his last breath plagued by the loneliness he’d fought so hard to run from.

“FRIDAY,” he gasps, “Get me ou’ of here.”

Tony comes rushing through, concern clear on his face, but Peter wants nothing more than to cling to him and never let go, so he does just that, clutching him until he grunts at the pain radiating from his ribs.

“Kid, I’m here. You’re fine.”

“Didn’ work,” he says into Tony’s shoulder.

“I know.” Mister Stark’s voice brims with sadness. “It’s okay, let’s just - take a breather for a minute. Sit here.”

“Can’ do much else,” huffs Peter.

They rest, Mister Stark breathing into Peter’s hair while he keeps his hand stuck stubbornly to his mentor’s back.

#fanfic #fanfiction #irondad #spiderson #tony stark #peter parker #whump #angst #hurt and comfort #notaparty-trick

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ariadoesntwrite · 5 years ago

Text

The (he)art of Craft | e.k. x reader

Words: 2173

Boys are clueless.

I know this, but for some reason I keep forgetting.

I crossed my arms in front of myself to rest them as Elmer leaped onto his bed like a flying squirrel. "When you asked me if I wanted to 'hang out with you (and the guys)', this isn't exactly what I was envisioning."

Elmer looked over at me as he scrambled to sit up, blinking in confusion. "Why? What did you have in mind?"

In all honesty, shirtless basketball in the park.

"I don't know." I shook my head and sat on the bed beside him.

I watched Elmer boot up the server, staring at the screen with barely concealed excitement. Four users were already online.

This is not exactly my idea of a hot date. Then again, maybe it's my fault for reading into things. On the other hand, I mean really, what usually comes to mind immediately when a really cute boy asks you if you want to 'hang out'?

See, that's what I thought!

You know what, though? All things considered, it could be worse. He could've asked me to play Wii Sports Bowling with him. It's supposed to be so easy the folks in nursing homes love it, right? Well apparently ole gram-grams has more virtual athletic ability in her pinky finger than I do in my entire body.

Elmer scooted closer to me and pulled out headphones, flipping the earpieces outwards so we could share the same set.

I watched as the screen started spazzing out. "Is that..." I trailed off, pointing at the screen and not sure how to put my thoughts into words as I held my part of the headphones up to my ear.

Elmer quirked an eyebrow. "Yeah, it's usual for this section. The reason it's so glitchy is because someone spawned way too many ocelot assets."

"Hey guys, Elmer has a girl ov—" Romeo started to say, but he was cut off by somebody who was way louder.

"You can never have too many ocelots!" A distinctive, high-pitched but still decidedly male voice exclaimed through the headset.

"The queen of the felines has spoken." Elmer rolled his eyes and smiled as his avatar started jerkily walking towards a large light blue and white building that touched the sky. "This is Racetrack's cat castle—"

"A cat-stle, if you will." Racetrack interrupted.

"I will not." Albert shot back.

Racetrack cleared his throat and adopted a 'tour guide' voice. "Business hours are from 9:00pm to 5:00am, or for the low low price of three diamonds you can get an all-access pass."

"Good grief." Albert muttered under his breath.

"Killing one of my sweet, adorable, cuddly babies— I mean, very loyal subjects— results in an immediate ban for life." Racetrack continued, undeterred. "Donations of precious gemstones and fish, cooked or raw, are always appreciated."

"Yeah, good luck with that." Romeo replied with a small snort.

"I'll come tour your catstle, Race!" Crutchie said cheerily.

"Finally, some proper respect around here."

I gave Elmer the side-eye. "Why isn't it pink?"

"Pink? You think I would use pink?" Racetrack asked with an air of disdain, scoffing. "Please. Pink is a strong, masculine color, fit only for the he-est of men. My graceful feminine eyes can only bear the lightest, most delicate shades of blue, as is befitting a most proper young lady such as myself."

Elmer made eye contact with me and shrugged.

"Also, pink is Romeo's color." Racetrack mumbled with a defeated tone.

Romeo let out a triumphant laugh. "Ya snooze ya lose, loser!"

Alerts in all caps popped up on the screen as three more usernames joined.

Elmer nudged me with his shoulder to get my attention. I tried and failed not to blush. "And to our left, we have Henry's trailer park. In Minecraft, imagination is the only limit, and Henry decided to build a trailer park. Why, I have no idea."

"Because heck you, that's why!" Henry said, but there was no bite in his tone.

"Watch your ****ing language on my good Christian Minecraft server!" Crutchie yelled.

The random conversations going on between others in the background went silent.

"oh no." Crutchie said really quietly, but we could all hear it due to the aforementioned radio silence.

Jojo started muttering The Lord's Prayer to himself.

Somebody let out a very loud snort.

"Gross!" Albert shrieked. "Say it, don't spray it!"

"Kiss my butt!" Racetrack shot back.

There was some fuzzy noise, like somebody dropped their headset on the ground and they were wrestling with each other now.

Jack sighed. "Hey, if y'all are gonna hate-boink, can you please mute your channels please and thank you!"

"Shut up!" Racetrack and Albert shouted at the same time.

Jack cackled like a maniac to himself.

"Okay, you know what?" Albert asked, clearly annoyed. "Keep it up, but I'm gonna tell Katherine all about your little problem with–"

Elmer gasped and pulled his earpiece away from his head. He quickly crossed himself before returning to listening in on the conversation.

"No!" Jack protested as Albert proceeded to spill some very personal information. "You wouldn't!"

"—Don't test me." Albert finished.

"I did not need to know that." Jojo said, clearing his throat awkwardly.

"Ditto." Henry murmured in agreement.

A notification popped up on the screen alerting everybody that Buttons was online and had joined the server, bringing the total up to eight. "Hey, guys! Know what?" He asked, innocently.

"That the unflappable Jack Kelly apparently has a raging butt rash." Romeo answered matter-of-factory.

Buttons seemed at a loss for words. "...Oh." he said, finally.

"I'm dealing with it, okay?" Jack asked, annoyed. "I have cream and I'm taking oatmeal baths—"

"TMI, bro." Albert interrupted.

"You started it!" Jack exclaimed, exasperatedly.

"Your mom started it!" Albert retorted. The height of maturity, that one.

"My mom is dead!"

"Oh yeah? So's mine, you ain't special!" Albert said breezily.

A chorus of 'So is mine' rang through the airspace.

"Okay, well that's depressing." Buttons commented. "Who wants to duel?"

"Ooh, pick me! I'm always a ho for dying!" Racetrack yelled enthusiastically.

"Race, are you okay?" Crutchie asked, concerned.

There was no response for a few seconds, and then I heard the sound of somebody facepalming.

"Race, you're an idiot." Albert said flatly.

"Oh, wait a second."

Elmer adjusted his grip on the headset. "What'd he do?"

Albert sighed. "He shot finger guns at the screen."

"Woooowww." Jojo said, totally done.

"You're just jealous." Race clicked his tongue.

Jojo scoffed. "Why would I be jealous of an evil leprechaun? Oh wait, no, that's Albert."

"Hey!"

I elbowed Elmer. "Are they always like this?"

Elmer nodded. "Constantly."

"Uh, guys? Anyone else's game bugging out?" Jack asked. "Oh wait never mind, I just wandered a little too close to the crazy cat lady's cottage."

Racetrack huffed. "Heck you, butt rash boy."

Jojo let out a mock offended gasp. "Such language!"

"Frick you, HoHo."

Jojo gasped again. "Frick you!"

"That's gay." Racetrack said, snickering.

"You're gay!" Jojo replied.

"So what if I am?! Gay means happy, and I'm the happiest person I know! So there!" Racetrack punctuated his sentence with a somewhat audible 'blep'.

Elmer fake-coughed and raised his voice loud enough to cover Jojo and Racetrack's 'argument'. “To our right is Mush's giant flower garden." He did a slow pan of the colorful, pixelated blooms.

I leaned forward to examine them. It was quite impressive, if only from the sheer numbers of mass collection.

"Dare you to steal one, Elmer." Romeo piped up.

Elmer shook his head vehemently. "Heck no, unlike most of you, I actually value my life."

"Lives having value?" Albert scoffed.

"In this economy?" Racetrack finished for him.

"Now we're coming up on Romeo's super tacky building." Elmer leaned back against the wall as a large, misshapen, pink, vaguely-heart-shaped structure came into view.

"Look, I had a plan originally, but math and grids are hard." Romeo explained.

Racetrack let out a derisive scoff. "Grids are literally the easiest thing, you wannabe fashion icon."

Romeo blew a raspberry.

"Your mom is literally the easiest thing." Albert commented.

I could practically hear Racetrack's smirk from here. "You know, what I'm gathering from all the 'your mom' jokes is, you just really wanna be my daddy."

Somebody started making vey exaggerated gagging noises.

"Uh, pass." Albert muttered under his breath.

"You coughing up a hairball over there or something, Jojo?" Henry asked.

Jojo ceased his gagging. "No, I'm good."

"I bet Race has rabies." Buttons quipped.

"Don't be ridiculous, Race doesn't have rabies!" Crutchie protested. "I had him tested and everything."

"Interesting." I murmured under my breath.

"This is my house!" Elmer announced with a large grin, completely oblivious. "It's one of those tiny houses!"

"That's a very pretentious way of saying 'dirt hut starter home'." Crutchie teased.

"Wow, that's so funny I forgot to laugh." Elmer shot back. "No, it's like one of those minimalist houses that used to be all the rage, but in Minecraft! See?" He gestured at the small building on the screen, eyes sparkling.

I smiled back, his energy practically contagious. "It's very cute." Just like its builder, is what I did not say to him.

"And fully functional!" Elmer opened the door and started pointing out various features. "In the floor is a crafting table and a bed, to the side we have a furnace and a double-wide chest—"

"Your mom has a double-wide chest!" Racetrack exclaimed gleefully before erupting into laughter.

Elmer snapped his mouth shut with an unamused look on his face.

"Dang you Race, I was about to say that." Albert said, almost whining.

Elmer let out a sigh and moved his avatar to the back of the house. "And here's a small vegetable garden."

"Po Tay Toes!" Albert exclaimed, immediately perking back up.

"Boil 'em, mash 'em, stick 'em in a stew!" Jack added. The first thing he's said in a while, now that I think about it.

"You Irish people scare me." Racetrack commented.

"You're part Irish." Albert said flatly.

"Yeah, and?" Racetrack asked defensively. "I scare myself!"

"That makes two of us." Albert muttered under his breath.

I stole a glance towards Elmer, who was engrossed in harvesting his virtual vegetables. I can't say I understand how or why people invest so much time in this kind of stuff, but at least it makes him happy.

It'd be nice if I could do that.

I don't know what I'm doing, but if I don't ask then I'll spend years replaying this day over and over in my head at 2:00a.m. in the morning overanalyzing every single little detail. Here goes nothing.

I smiled teasingly and nudged Elmer with my elbow, gently. “So, do you invite all the girls out to watch you play Minecraft or am I just special?"

"Say what now?" Elmer looked over at me suddenly, blinking as if he was coming out of a trance as his eyes re-adjusted to the real world.

Uh-oh.

"This is a date?"

"This isn't a date?" We both asked in unison.

There was an awkward silence for about ten seconds, which was then broken by the sound of loud crunching over the headset.

"Henry!" About five or six voices exclaimed.

"What?" Henry asked defensively. "This is entertaining, thus, snacks are a must! Can y'all blame me?"

"Elmer," Racetrack sighed, "when you ask a girl to quote, 'hang out', unquote, that's code for a date. Just like Netflix and Chill is—"

"Stop! Don't ruin his innocence!" Buttons interrupted.

"I'm just saying, he's not gonna get very far if he doesn't know—"

Elmer pulled the headset down and placed it on the bed between us, hitting mute at the same time. "Look, this didn't go the way I planned, 'cause I was gonna ask you out for real, but then I panicked, so no wonder you've been getting mixed signals, but..."

He stared down at the floor and rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. "Can we just finish out today platonic and like, start fresh tomorrow? And I promise, if it's what you want, I will ask you on a real, proper date then."

I grinned and turned back to face the screen so I wasn't staring at him and making him even more uncomfortable. "Sounds good to me."

"Cool." Elmer returned the grin and did two thumbs up at me, shoulders scrunched up, then picked the headset back up and held it up to his ear.

I leaned in to unmute it and was greeted with a cacophony of all the boys arguing with each other over what exactly was happening on our end.

I hesitantly reached over to place my arm around Elmer's shoulders. "Do you mind if... is this okay?"

Elmer beamed from ear to ear and leaned into my touch. "Yeah."

"What's going on?" Romeo asked loudly, effectively putting a damper on the moment. "I need visuals!"

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harrykilledmoi · 6 years ago

Text

The Isolated Artist Myth

...Or the one where Harry insists on disappearing (as he does) for the conception of HS2.

Word Count: 1K Themes: bestfriend!harry, fluff???, one shot, drabble Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader Author’s Note: This is the first Harry thing I’ve written that I’m posting online. I’m super nervous but also super excited about putting this out there and even if no one reads it, I’m okay with that. But if you do read it and like it, then please let me know. I’d really like to post more stuff here. So yeah, enjoy!

“I think I’m seriously gonna do it. Think this time m’going completely off the grid. Reconnect with the earth and all that.”

You turn your head away from the Turner Classics you’d spent all afternoon watching to stare at Harry, eyebrow raised in disbelief, a small smirk dancing on your lips in confused amusement. You don’t believe a word he’s saying, you can’t. You know him, you know him too well it seems at times. You know that, yeah, he might go, enthralled with the idea and romanticism that comes with complete isolation. Many before him had relied on it and many of them had gone absolutely mad because of it. You’re not quite sure which words to use so as to not seem discouraging, so you keep your mouth shut, turning back to the film on screen. Knowing he’ll realize how utterly lonely, and ultimately boring it’ll be and just come back.

So you’re unperturbed (albeit not completely) when two weeks later, Harry is at your front door to say his goodbyes, hugging you tightly, a bag at both of his sides (stuff he’s left at your place, as per his request). His face nuzzled in the crook of your neck. The smell of smoked sandalwood and wildflower honey drifts and settles in the little space between you, a seamless combination of both of your aromas. And although you’re sure he’ll be back soon, you’re gonna miss this, miss him. It takes a lot for you to not ask him to just stay here but playful teasing comes easy when a slurry of I’m gonna miss ya’s and endless promises to stay in touch were bubbling up from his stomach and spilling from his lips.

“You’re going to realize how boring it is and you’re going to come right back. I know it!” A soft chuckle leaves Harry’s lips as he pulls away from the hug. A chill cocoons you in an instant. He shakes his head, letting lose a single curl that rests between his eyes. He combs it back in place with his hand as he sighs.

“Wish you had a bit more faith in me, love.”

Now it’s your turn to laugh, shaking your head until it dies down. You step forward, arms extended for another hug, Harry returns it happily, wrapping his arms in a bear like fashion around your waist. You turn your head slightly. His chocolate brown hair tickles the tip of your nose as you bring your lips flush with his ear. “Got an office pool going, got a fiver on you won’t even last a week.”

Harry scoffs and pushes you away softly as you laugh, a deep belly laugh. He joins in, his a beautiful accompanying harmony to your witch like cackle but it’s one of his favourite things about you. He never lets you forget it.

You both attempt to catch your breath when his phone buzzes. He takes it out of his jacket pocket, looks at it briefly, then shove it back in place. When he looks back up at you, your eyes lock and you know it’s time for him to go. He smiles and it’s larger than life, the skin around the corners of his eyes crinkle as his dimples sink deeply into his cheeks. He brings you in for another brief hug before heading to the black SUV parked in the driveway. You lean against the door frame, arms crossed, watching as he loads the bags in the car. He opens the door, but pauses to wave at you before getting in.

“See you in a week,” you yell, hands cupped around your mouth. He shakes his head and with a smile and a wink, he’s gone.

You’re completely surprised when a month passes and you haven’t heard from Harry, and then another, and then another. Guess the mountains really don’t have reception. You kick yourself for thinking he couldn’t handle it, but he’s obviously having a great time if he’s still there, wherever there might be, and you’re out five dollars and a best friend.

You’re incredibly caught off guard because the year is nearing its end. It’s around the time that the remaining threads of summer are coming undone, as the crisp winds of autumn are around the corner that you receive a postcard. The edges are soft, slightly weathered and a worn vintage illustration of the Rockies occupies the front. Harry’s quick, off kilter hand writing filling the space on the back.

He loves it, he writes. “The air feels cleaner here somehow, fresher.”

He’s made friends with an elderly couple that lives a few miles down the secluded cabin he’s rented for the year. Caroline and Bobby, he refers to them by name. They own a farm and would bring Harry some of their spoils on their way into town for the farmer’s market on Sunday mornings which he would sometimes ride the old bike he found in the shed behind the cabin to when he was running low on supplies.

He writes about waking up with the sun, falling asleep with the moon and all the moments in between. “You’d love the amount of stars you can see here at night, it’s incredible.”

He’s more than halfway done with the album, or so he says. “I’m getting there. The quiet really helps. Can hear my own voice, feel everything fully. S’nice.”

It isn’t until the end of the postcard, a postscript, that he tells you just how much he misses you despite everything he’s said about loving the solitude. Tucked in the bottom right hand corner, small but still legible, obviously due to the fact that he hadn’t gauged the word size to card size ratio before starting.

“I miss your laugh. It’s funny, the coyotes out here sound a lot like you. Thought you’d come to drag me home the first night I heard ‘em.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help the smile that creeps onto your lips as you come to the final words of his musings.

P.P.S

I really do miss you and although I love the peace and quiet, I wouldn’t hate it if you came to visit.

All my love, H x.

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gaytonystark · 6 years ago

Text

Road Trip

Pairing: Thor x Reader Words: 2.5k A/N: Me? Actually writing something? It’s more likely than you think. Anyways, here’s a smutty thor fic that nobody asked for and I hope you all like it!!! Please let me know if you do since this is the first fic I’ve posted in quite a while and I’m actually pretty happy with it. I’m not usually a big smut person, but this just seemed to fit so enjoy and lemme know what y’all think :)

“Y/N, wake up.” Thor said softly, rousing you from your deep sleep. “It’s time to go.” He punctuated this with an equally soft kiss on your temple, which you quickly batted away.

“Just five more minutes, mom.” You groaned as pulled the covers closer to you. “I don’t wanna go to school today.”

“What-no it’s time for our road trip.” Thor said, the excitement clear in his voice even as he whispered to get you out of bed.

As you comprehended what he said, you began to regain consciousness. “Road trip? You mean we can go now?” You hastily sat up in bed when his words finally sank in and you joined Thor in his excitement.

“That’s right, today’s the day.” Thor’s excitement only grew when you threw the covers off of you and bounded to the bathroom to get ready. “We are finally going off the grid.”

“I’ve been waiting for this day for months!” You shouted from the sink as you splashed some water on your face to help get you a little more wide awake. “This is it, babe, no distractions for two whole weeks.” You walked out of the bathroom to pull out your duffle bag that you’ve had packed for days now. “It’s just gonna be you, me, and the open road for the next fourteen days. Do you think you can handle all that?”

“Nobody can handle you, that’s why I’m completely enamored with you, Y/N.” Thor came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist as you stuffed the last few things you would need in your already overstuffed bag and planted a kiss on the top of your head.

You leaned into his hold and you would have let things escalate from there if you didn’t have a schedule to stick to. You turned around in his arms and held his face in his hands and you noticed he looked somewhat disappointed before you flashed him a cheeky grin.“We can’t get distracted today, Lord of Thunder, besides we have the next two weeks for that.”

“You’re right,” Thor conceded, “we’ve got no time to waste.” He pulled away from your grasp after giving you a quick peck on the cheek and grabbed his own bags from under the bed.

“Okay, I think I’ve got everything I need and I stole the keys to Tony’s car, you know the red one that I really like so we should be just about ready to go.” You said, pulling out the shiny set of keys from where they were hiding in your pillow case and chucked them to Thor.

He caught them effortlessly as he hoisted his bag onto his shoulder. “And I gave Steve the number to the burner phone you picked up and instructed him to only call us if it is an absolute emergency.”

“Perfect and I told Steve if he calls us while we’re off the grid, I will personally deliver the footage I have of him when you got him so drunk he started crying while he sang the Star Spangled Banner outside the compound to every news station in America.”

“Then it sounds like we have everything we need.” He said, a boyish grin on his handsome face as he took your bag as well and lead you down to the compound’s garage.

You walked among the expanse of vehicles until you found the one you were looking for. Parked at the far end was a beautiful vintage cherry red mustang convertible and you couldn’t wait to plant your ass in that passenger seat. “Here she is, the car that’s gonna take us to Los Angeles, California. What a beauty.”

“You really are.” He whispered in your ear, leaving a rush of heat across your face.

Thor threw your bags in the trunk and you hopped into your seat, an excited grin planted firmly on your face. His own giddiness was radiating off of him as he drove you both off of the compound, freedom in the air as it whipped past your face. You leaned over and kissed his cheek before you loaded the mixtape you made into the cassette player.

“This is the perfect road trip playlist to get us across the country.” You proclaimed proudly over the sound of air whipping past you. The rising sun cast an unearthly glow across your unearthly boyfriend and you couldn’t help but stare. “Hey, I’m really happy we’re finally doing this.”

“Me too.” Thor beamed at you before he reached over and squeezed your thigh, his gaze returning to the road before you.

There was only one other car pumping gas at the station you pulled into and you were grateful for the shade provided from the warm summer sun. You looked around at your surroundings and noted the desolate expanse and how different it was from what you had back home. It was refreshing and you would have taken comfort in it if you weren’t drawing to the conclusion that you were absolutely and positively lost.

You turned back to the map you had splayed out on the hood of the car, scratching your head in thought as Thor filled up the gas tank at the pump. “Hon, I hate to say it, but I think we’re lost.” You said uneasily.

Thor popped the cap back on the gas tank as he walked over to where you were looking over the map with a confused look on your face. “We can’t be too lost. All we have to do is figure which part of Indiana we’re in and get back on the main highway.” He gestured vaguely at the crinkled map and you got the idea that he wasn’t all that confident about your whereabouts as he wanted you to think.

“Indiana? I thought we were in Ohio.” You gave him a funny look before you both burst into a fit of giggles. That was the thing you loved most about Thor. He never took anything too seriously and there wasn’t a situation you couldn’t get through together so there was never any point in letting things get out of hand.

“Alright then,” He started when you both managed to regain your composure, “you head inside and replenish our snack supply while I try to figure out which state we’ve managed to lose ourselves in.”

“Sounds like a plan.” You conceded as you reached into the glove box for your wallet before pulling Thor down to your level to leave a kiss on his cheek. “I’ll be right back.”

Casually strolling through the lowly stocked aisles, you picked up Thor’s favorites along with your most loved road trip munchies. The pickings were slim, but you still managed to fill the rickety shopping basket with the necessities and then some. You were preoccupied with paying for your finds that you hadn’t noticed Thor was making some new friends outside. He was chatting amicably with two young ladies, who no doubt recognized the God of Thunder from the news, gesturing to the map wildly and then to you who had finished paying for your junk food.

“Y/N! I think I’ve managed to un-lose us.” Thor said excitedly as you unloaded your stuff in the car. “These nice girls have informed me that we are, indeed in Ohio and that the highway is just a few miles south, we just got a little off track.” He pointed to the girls in question and they waved at you politely, obviously unable to believe their luck.

“Really? That’s awesome, thank you so much for your help.” You gushed, tucking your food away so you could properly thank your guides. “You have to let us repay you somehow.”

“Actually, we were hoping we could get a picture?” One of the girls asked sheepishly, holding up her phone for emphasis.

“Of course, it’s the least we could do.” You replied earnestly as you took the phone from her hands and opened the camera app. “Right, babe?”

“Absolutely!” Thor said as he positioned himself in between the girls with his classic dorky grin and flashed a peace sign. You snapped a few shots of the three of them before you returned the phone to its owner. “I’m sure we all look great and thank you, once more for your help. We are indebted to you and your companion.” Thor took the hand of the girl who owned the phone and planted a soft kiss on top of it before doing the same to her friend. They immediately became flustered and quickly headed back to their car, allowing you to continue on your journey.

“You’re such a flirt.” You teased as you pulled Thor in for a chaste kiss. He let you go when you pulled away and gave your ass a little pinch when you turned to get into the car. “Well I’m not above using my godly wiles to get what I need.”

“Oh don’t I know it.” You said with a flirtatious wink. “Now if you’re done whoring yourself out, we have a road trip to get back to.”

Once you were both buckled in, you threw on your sunglasses and busted out a can of Pringles as Thor pulled out of the gas station. The sun was still high in the sky and you had a long way to go before you reached the next roadside attraction, but you both managed to pass the time without getting too bored. It also helped that you two could just ride in silence when there was nothing to say without it feeling awkward or uncomfortable.

Thor insisted on driving the entire time, citing his godly ability to remain sharp and ability to go longer without sleep. You appreciated the fact that he took up the responsibility so you committed yourself to being the best co-pilot you could possibly be. To you, this meant providing endless amounts of snack, always having water on hand to keep him adequately hydrated, and making sure an awesome mix was playing at all times. Your final duty was the most important, however, and you tried to only perform it when absolutely necessary so the novelty wouldn’t wear off: Blow jobs on the open road.

The sun was beginning to set on the horizon and you could tell morale was getting low. Thor wouldn’t say it, but driving wasn’t the most exciting thing in the world to him and you really wanted to show him how much you appreciate him. You saw your opportunity as less cars filled the road and more stars appeared in the sky. He had his arm around you so you had perfect access to his lower body. You pressed into his side a little more and nuzzled into his neck, leaving a trail of kisses.

Thor leaned into your touch as a low groan grumbled from within his chest. You left a few more kisses before your hand began to slowly make its way down his chest and into his lap. His legs tensed just a bit at your touch when you found his hardening bulge and massaged it through his jeans.

“Y/N, what do you think you’re doing?” He asked cautiously when you began to undo the button and zipper.

“Shh, just focus on the road, baby.” You hushed him innocently as you freed his now throbbing member from the restrictive material of his jeans and used the pre cum that was already leaking from his tip to work your hand up and down his length.

Once you had sufficiently jerked him off, you dragged your tongue up the length of his cock making sure it was sufficiently wet. Then you lowered your lips onto him before taking him in all the way, nearly unhinging your jaw in the process. To say he was well endowed was an understatement, but that never stopped you.

Thor let out a strangled groan at the feel of your wet mouth on his hard cock and released some of the tension from earlier. You gagged as you took him deeper into your mouth and hit the back of your throat. Once you found a comfortable position, you began moving your mouth up and down. Soon enough, the sloppy, wet sound of you going down on your boyfriend drowned out whatever was playing on the stereo. Your jaw was getting sore and you weren’t doing your neck any favors either, but you were determined to get him to finish.

With one hand on the wheel, Thor reached down with the other to grab a fistful of your hair to push you down as deep as you could go and bucked his hips up in an effort to help you reach a new depth. You swallowed around him when he pushed you back down to his base and he let out your name in a guttural moan that was music to your ears. Your eyes began to water and your gags became less controlled and Thor loved every moment of it.

“Fuck, Y/N, don’t stop-!” He sputtered between gasps. It’s hard to respond when you have a dick in your mouth, so you murmured something you hoped would convey to him that you would not stop until he was ready. The vibrations only added to the onslaught of pleasure he was feeling and you could feel his impending release.

“I’m-gonna come-!” He said between strangled moans that only served to spur you on. “Don’t stop!”

You jerked him off with both hands in tune with what your mouth was doing to speed up his orgasm with the varying pressures. Within moments of doing so, you felt his body spasm beneath you as he came in your mouth. He filled your throat with his release and you swallowed it down, ignoring the slightly bitter taste of it. You gagged once more as you worked him through his orgasm and finally removed your head from his lap.

“That was just incredible, Y/N.” Thor said, a little breathlessly while you cleaned yourself up as best you could.

“Stop it, you’re gonna make me blush.” You joked, but you were also beaming with pride as he adjusted himself back into his jeans. Once you were settled back into your seat, he reached an arm over your shoulders and pulled you back up into his side.

“I’ll be sure to return the favor at our next pit stop.” He said in a low voice that sent shivers up your spine. That man never went back on his word and suddenly, you couldn’t wait to be off the road again.

He pressed a loving kiss to the crown of your head and you sighed in content, enjoying just being where you were. The lights from passing cars lit up Thor’s face briefly and you took a moment to admire the man you loved so much. Your jaw ached, your wrists were sore, but your heart was more full than ever.

Tagging some pals: @arrow-guy @lady-thor-foster @pocmarvelworks @noshitstark @avengersandlovers @thorodinsvn

#thorxreader #thor x reader #thor smut #thor imagine #thor fic #readerxthor #reader x thor #thorsmut #marvelimagine #my fics #pls dont let this flop ill cry

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ends-of-the-wayward-storm · 5 years ago

Photo

KH OC Week 2019--Day 2: New World

A Digital Frontier--Part 2

[All right I know I did Tron last time but this is basically my motivation to do the next part. But anyway, this is my first time digitally coloring a drawing of mine so don't be rude (also ignore the hands). I have been thinking about coloring it digitally so I just thought "might as well do it for KH OC Week." And here we are. Hope you guys enjoy this! @khoc-week.]

(Part 1) (AO3 version)

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

She had to have been here for about a couple hours. Maybe a little more. And in that time there was no sign of Heartless and no sign of that man in white. But there was still those black guards roaming around.

A pair of the robot-like ones was coming her way, and she quickly slipped into a crowd that had just crossed the street. She stole a glance over her shoulder as the group began to shrink, and the guards stopped as they looked in her direction.

Stifling a gasp, she faced forward and strained to listen over the voices for any sign of them approaching her.

A few seconds of silence.

Then a couple more.

And still they remained silent.

Don’t spot me don’t spot me. . . .

“Keep searching,” one of the guards ultimately said before continuing down the sidewalk.

Phew.

She waited a couple seconds before politely making her way to the front of the group. Briskly, she began to put distance between herself and the group. A quick glance over her shoulder told her the guards still hadn’t noticed her.

So far so good.

Facing forward, she replayed her encounter with the guy in white.

What was his name again? It started with a “T. . . .”

Oh right. Tron.

She remembered he had said he was protecting the city from CLU’s guard. So that meant CLU was probably this world’s darkness.

Which meant he might have control over Heartless.

Which meant Tron might need her help.

Okay, so I just need to find him and help him stop CLU.

But where do I even start looking?

Something caught her eye, and she looked up at a digital version of a poster.

A wanted poster.

And apparently she was on it.

“That’s not good.”

A Program walking by also spotted the poster showing Erica from all angles. A few others murmured amongst themselves upon seeing it as well, and the Program glanced to Erica.

“Hey isn’t that. . . .”

“Hmm?” Erica faced him.

“That is you.”

Another one of the robotic guards spotted Erica, and he looked between her and the poster.

Uh oh, Erica thought.

“Halt, Program!”

Instantly Erica darted off.

“ ‘Scuse me! Sorry! Coming through!” she said.

People instantly moved out of the guard’s way as he pursued Erica, and she was quick to disappear after a sharp left.

He just called me a program again. But, why?

“Halt by order of CLU!” he shouted.

A scream from up ahead caused multiple exclamations to flare up. People were beginning to flee as creatures with yellow eyes appeared in the streets, and they set their sights on the Programs.

“Oh no.” Erica immediately summoned Starlight. “Incoming!”

Her Keyblade glowed an icy blue before she hurled it at a few Shadows, destroying them instantly and startling a few Programs in the process.

“Thank you,” a female with a boyish hair style quavered. “But, how did you do that?”

Erica positioned herself between her and the Heartless. “I can’t explain right now. Go get somewhere safe! I can handle them!”

The Program looked between Erica and the Heartless.

“Halt, by order of CLU!” an incoming guard ordered, who was now accompanied by backup.

“I-I’ll get help!” the Program stammered before rushing off along with everyone else.

Erica reaffirmed her stance as the guards closed in on her. A neon yellow-ish green Heartless swatted at her, and she parried the blow before whacking it into its own. She summoned a barrier as a large neon purple Heartless fired at her. The guards split their attention between her and the Heartless, but they pulled back just as flares of light burst forth from the barrier.

An orange diamond-shaped Heartless fired at her several times, and Erica narrowly avoided the shots. She blocked an incoming staff and kicked the guard back before darting away from another staff, and she felt her hair stand on end.

“Wind!”

The guards and the smaller Heartless were thrown back, the latter releasing hearts upon being destroyed. Taking aim at the guards, the purple Heartless fired multiple times, and they were quick to flee. A green cannon aimed for Erica, and she coated her Keyblade with lightning before throwing it, sending its cannonball hurtling right for the purple Heartless.

Something sliced her shoulder, pulling a yelp out of her. She locked onto a guard catching his disc, but before she could retaliate, the purple Heartless began to swing its arms madly at her. Erica barely raised a barrier in time, wincing with every hit it sustained as the green cannon joined in on the barrage. But nonetheless, the light flares warded the Heartless back.

“Thunder!”

Powerful bolts of lightning destroyed all the remaining Heartless, and one cut it close to one of the guards. Erica ducked away from an incoming disc before blocking a staff. Blows were blocked and exchanged, and slowly, Programs began to peer into the scene.

“Hey those things are gone.”

“She’s gonna get derezzed!”

“Where’s the Renegade when you need him?”

Derezzed? And who’s the Renegade? Erica wondered.

Footsteps came running from behind her, and she darted out of the way just in time to see one of the guards electrocute and knock out his own. But before he could begin to process what had happened, Erica smacked the guard’s head with her Keyblade, rendering him unconscious.

Hearing something whiz toward her, she raised her Keyblade to block an orange disc. But moments later a guard rammed his electrified staff into her chest.

Programs gasped as she was knocked onto her back, and an air of silence shrouded over the area as Erica remained still.

But she wasn’t down for long.

Erica struggled to push herself up, and she barely managed to cast Reflect in time to block an orange disc again.

A guard charged forward, and with a loud grunt Erica shot to her feet and locked weapons with him. She grimaced as he pushed against her, and he gradually began to overpower her. And the slight lightheadedness wasn’t helping, either.

Thinking fast, Erica slammed her heel onto the guard’s foot before darting behind him, just barely avoiding an incoming kick meant for her. With one whack the guard was out, and she whirled around to face the last guard.

He threw his disc at her that she deflected, leading the duo to ultimately switch places. Erica readjusted her grip on Starlight as she assumed her stance.

Silence hung thick in the air as everyone held their breath.

The guard intensely watched her, and Erica narrowed her eyes.

Abruptly the two charged for each other as the guard whipped out a baton of sorts. At the last second a blade of light emitted from it, and Keyblade and sword clanged against each other. The guard easily began to overpower her, and Erica found her knees beginning to bend.

Come on! You can do this!

She tapped into any strength she could muster to push back, but the shock from before still lingered. She couldn’t fight back no matter how much she willed herself to.

Smack!

The guard suddenly froze, and Erica stepped back with a breath as he dropped to the ground. Standing over him with her own baton was the Program that had gone to get help.

“Thank you,” Erica said, relieved. She casted a quick cure spell over herself before dismissing her Keyblade. Some of her energy was restored, but she could still feel the tiniest bit of the shock in her muscles. And her chest was sore. “Is everyone okay?”

“You just took down CLU’s guard!” a Program said. “And those things!”

“What were they?” another asked.

“They’re called Heartless,” Erica replied.

“Are they a virus?” the armed female asked.

“Not exactly, but they’re still dangerous.”

The armed Program looked to the fallen guards. “You should run before they wake up.”

“Oh, right. Everyone be careful, okay?”

“That’s gonna be impossible with CLU in the city,” a Program remarked.

“Don’t worry. I’ll try to help stop CLU in any way I can.”

“Wait. Y-you’re with Tron?”

“Um, kind of? I’m actually trying to—”

A few of the guards began to stir, making the Programs step back in fear.

“Hurry before they wake up!” the armed female urged.

“Right. You guys should run, too,” Erica said.

All of the Programs were quick to flee, but the one that had knocked out the last guard lingered.

“Thank you,” she said.

“You’re welcome,” Erica replied.

Erica and the Program went their separate ways, and she risked a glance over her shoulder before hiding behind a corner.

I really need to find Tron before the Heartless start multiplying.

~ ~ ~

Somewhere far from Argon in a hidden area of the Grid, someone was watching over everything.

He had witnessed a “Program” come to his successor’s aid with no hesitation. He had also just witnessed her actions of defending the people and stopping the so-called viruses. He wondered if they were remnants from that hooded virus that had appeared once. It was doubtful, but he couldn’t be sure just yet.

For now, however, he would continue to observe.

[Yeah this one was getting long, too, so I split it into a third part that will eventually lead to more parts. I'll probably get around to them at some point.]

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(Part 1) (AO3 version)

#I think I did okay with the circuitry.#I asked Misstoodles for help and I used some references so there's that.#This is quite the trip for Erica.#Kingdom Hearts #Tron: Uprising #Tron #Erica #Key Kid #Beck #The Renegade #CLU #Remember that girl in the beginning of 'Grounded'?#Yeah she's in this.#KH OC Week #KH OC Week 2019 #TRON LIVES.

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