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traumatictouch · 4 years

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why tomura reads like a sexual abuse survivor

ive noticed that a lot of survivors - including me - easily read tomura as a csa survivor. ive decided to try to put these impressions into words, mostly for myself, but also for anyone curious as to why he’s so frequently read this way, or why i personally write him as such. i will mostly be elaborating on the reoccurring sexual assault imagery and csa survivor traits tomura exhibits.

triggering themes ahead, including discussed child sexual abuse, incest (sibling and pseudo), trauma and its effects, and sexual assault imagery (from the bnha manga itself). also spoilers for the most recent manga arc.

(disclaimer: i realize symptoms of trauma are pretty much common all across the board, and depression also comes with a lot of these behaviors - but there are some that crop up more commonly in cases of sexual abuse (especially from a young age) than in others. csa survivors also frequently end up with depression, too, so that doesn't necessarily take away from it.)

i’ll start with the cover above. the hands touching him here are much more expressive than the ones he usually wears. it's also framed in a way where you can't see the ends/cap things very well, and they don't appear so symmetrical, making them feel much more like real, living hands grabbing him.

there's also the fact that his face is exposed, which is something we had rarely seen him do willingly at this point in the manga, and even when he had he was still covered up with a hoodie or completely alone. the way he's covering half his face gives off the impression that he's not okay with the way he's exposed.

all of that, plus the obvious distress tomura is in, gives this very glaring assault vibes.

also, the hands on his head are clearly someone's actual, living hands as well. my guess is afo, especially since they seem to be petting him, which is reoccurring imagery between tomura and afo.

tomura's total lack of privacy

there's a clear lack of boundaries between tomura and the adults in his life. most of the spaces that seem to belong to tomura (the bar - he feels safe enough there to take Father off, and his room) are accompanied by cameras and audio transmissions from afo. he has no privacy, and doesn't even seem bothered by this fact.

he also doesn't seem to set boundaries with other people in general. toga can hold a knife to his neck, spinner can grab him and yell in his face, the doctor can shout over his earpiece, dabi (or anyone, really) can say whatever rude or callous things he wants to him… really the only time i can think of that even comes close was when mr. compress made a joke about working with overhaul and tomura said "hey, not funny."

he seems to kinda just let whatever happen to him. earlier in the series, tomura seemed to rely on kurogiri to notice when he needed space and step in for him rather than ask for it himself. that's a pretty telltale sign of someone who's had their needs and boundaries violated (or even punished) for a long time.

Tomuras over-attachment to afo and his praise/affection

obviously afo groomed tomura whether it involved sexual abuse or not, but it is something that could have easily lended itself to that as well. early in the series, tomura clearly highly valued afos opinion of him, and seemed to strive to please and repay him for his kindness. these are feelings afo incited in him on purpose and did, canonically, take advantage of to turn tomura into a villain and pawn - who's to say he didn't use it for other purposes, too?

it's also the kind of thing survivors tend to latch onto to cope with their abuse. it can be easier to think of the event as being affection, returning a favor, and/or special treatment, than to think of it as abuse. tomura looked up to afo so much that it's possible he could have considered (or been convinced) that it was special that someone as great as afo wanted to do something so intimate with him.

also, if this is really tomura realizing his sensei isn't as special and powerful as he'd been led to believe, then his reaction being to cover up while looking angry might, well… be a reaction to feeling used.

Tomura & older men

there's not a lot of people besides afo that tomura seems very quickly, openly… invested in. there are two major ones i can think of, and they are both 1. older men, and 2. mentor figures (even if not to tomura.)

the most obvious of the two is aizawa, who tomura has seemed pretty fond of since his first appearance and, even in the most recent chapters, can't seem to help but think about how cool aizawa is. aizawa isn't a mentor to tomura, obviously, but he is a teacher and tomura knows this. (and seems impressed by the way he tries to protect the students in his care--something afo very specifically does not do for tomura.)

the second, and perhaps less obvious to most, is Stain. i wrote up a whole post trying (trying.) to explain the way tomura seemed interested in him, and you can see a bit more about that and how tomura was hoping he'd be a mentor to him here.

in other words, tomura has shown reoccurring interest in older men, who are mentors, that he does not show for anyone else.

early sexual abuse can influence a person's attractions. survivors tend to be drawn to what is familiar, even if it hurt, and so it's pretty common for them to be attracted to and/or desire a relationship with those who resemble their abuser(s).

and afo is an older man who is a mentor to tomura (and others.)

immaturity (& age regression)

tomura, in early canon, is often described by characters in-universe as being childish, especially in regards to how he processes his emotions. (i don't really like to conflate these things with "age" or "being childish" - but the way the manga itself presents these qualities is clearly intended to give tomura a immature/childish vibe.)

tomura's emotional processing, simple motivations, fixation with video games, toys littering his room, and need for close caregiving (kurogiri) all give off the impression that he's had trouble developing the way he "”should”" have--kind of like he didn't really move on at all.

this sort of stunted development tends to occur in people with childhood trauma, especially csa survivors. ptsd at its core is the brain getting "stuck" in the moment of trauma, so if the trauma occurred as a child, then one's development is somewhat halted there, especially in areas of emotional processing, because the brain and body have to dedicate so much energy to just trying to cope and survive. it's pretty common for csa survivors to have trouble coping with and controlling their emotions.

relatedly: i have no real way to confirm this right now, but i’ve heard that during the mla arc, while tomura was kind of going in and out of flashbacks, he started switching to using “boku” - a self pronoun for young boys - as opposed to his usual “ore”). ive since had to wonder if this is a reoccurring state for tomura - it might partly explain why he keeps his toys around despite never showing interest in them on-screen, and has such close supervision from kurogiri.

again, age regression can go for any kind of childhood trauma, but seems very common in child sexual abuse survivors in particular.

Lack of hygiene (esp oral)

look at how tomura's teeth are drawn compared to even another villains. dabis teeth are straight and clean, whereas tomura's have holes and chips, and tend to be drawn uneven with wobbly lines, like they're covered in plaque.

not caring for one's hygiene is common for people with depression too - but failure to care for teeth also frequently crops up in survivors of sexual abuse, due to an aversion to things touching or being inside their mouth, because it can remind them of the abuse.

in a similar vein, tomura's hair looks unwashed and greasy to me, especially when it gets long. it sort of gathers in clumps and appears heavy. survivors may avoid taking showers because they aren't comfortable removing their clothes for long periods of time, or because the abuse occurred in proximity to bathing. (which is a convenient time for parental figures to groom and abuse their children, since it already involves them being naked and the parent touching them closely.)

in general, there just seems to be something off about tomura's relationship with his body. maybe it's the way he barely bats an eye at major injuries, doesn't care for his hygiene, self-injures, and didn't mind undergoing a surgery that altered its shape and function pretty heavily--but i get the impression that tomura sees his body as just a tool more than anything.

which, if someone grew up having their body regarded as nothing but a means of pleasure, kind of makes sense.

his clothing

im not sure if this has the same “connotations” (for lack of a better word) for flat chested people, but tomura always wearing a lowcut shirt that shows off a fair amount of his chest, but covering the rest of himself head to toe--including his face--feels significant to me. as well as the way he covers up even more (his hoodie) when he’s stressed. the hands, too--being covered up seems to be calming for him.

the placement of the hands afo gave him

you can't tell me little tenko placed these hands where they are by himself. the ones on his chest aren’t even from his family or meant to resemble them - they’re additional hands afo gave him to wear. pretty weird place for “afo”’s hands to go...

I feel like theres a little bit something to tomura frequently having his clothes ripped off during fights

not that it's particularly uncommon for bnha characters to get their clothes a bit shredded during fights, but i can't help but feel like there's something to tomura getting torn down to nothing but his pants twice, with both battles heavily involving tomura's traumas, including the ones related to afo. the vs mla arc with how tomura met afo and how he turned him into what he is today, then the war arc where the methods afo used to control and abuse tomura (the hands) are brought back again--and afo repeatedly takes tomura's bodily autonomy away from him.

AFO's predatory behaviors

tomuras own behavior aside, All For One himself has some behaviors and imagery that gives off very predatory vibes. i’ll start with Ragdoll…

most people theorize that she was going to be turned into a nomu, but there are two important things here. ragdoll was found 1. alive, and 2. naked. all nomu are made from corpses - if afo had time to take her quirk and undress her, he certainly had time to kill her, especially since three days had passed since she was kidnapped. (and, what benefit would there be to making a nomu out of a quirkless hero?)

her dazed state is also curious - we've never been told taking or giving quirks has a side effect like this, and i would think itd at least wear off after three days…

there's also not actually a lot to suggest she was submerged in one of the tanks (that i know of); in the full body image, she doesn't seem to be soaking wet or anything. there's no water dripping off her. there's just a bit of liquid on her face and neck, which could merely be sweat, or… other fluids.

this next part is more debatable due to it being more dubiously canon (although My Hero: One’s Justice has been known to basically spoil villain related lore before it appears in the manga) - but he has some dialogue that makes him sound... pretty fuckin enthusiastic about sexual violence.

and time and time again, afo has been... very creepy and obsessive about his brother. who happens to look an awful lot like tomura, and is vaguely connected to nana as a user of OFA, and we know how far afo would go to spite both of them.

The "wow this is pretty much confirmed now" page

i always thought i was just projecting when i read tomura as a csa survivor - until i saw this page, which was so viscerally uncomfortable that it made me nauseous. it definitely made me decide i wasn't just reading into things that weren't there. that's not exactly to say this panel 100% confirmed it (though it certainly did in my mind, personally) -- but the imagery here can't not be deliberate.

tomura is literally shirtless and bent over before afo, and sure, afos not completely standing behind him, but that's partially because his lower half is inside of tomura. and from our previous example of afo taking over tomura's body…

i wish i could find the translation i first saw - this is the viz translation, which is notoriously horrible - but the one i read felt much more along the lines of "i saved you, so i get to do what i want with your body."

that is a line of logic that could have EASILY applied to their earlier relationship. the way afo saved tenko was very much on the forefront of tomura's mind early in the series, possibly either an idea he clung onto to justify the abuse he experienced from afo, or something afo personally reminded him of frequently.

also… part of afos body is definitely wrapped around tomura's upper thigh, and in certain panels seems to be emanating from between his legs.

speaking of, tomura's stance is also notable to me. compared to the panel where tomura first realized afo was taking control of him, where his knees are pretty straight on or outwards in a powerful balanced brace, in these panels his knees seem to be bending in towards his body, like he wants to squeeze his legs shut. huh.

i touched on this before, but it's interesting to me that what finally let afo fully take control of tomura's body, was having a hand (one afo very specifically used to control and abuse tomura into doing what he wanted) placed upon his body without permission.

so, all in all, afo is "inside" tomura's body, using it for his own means, against tomura's wishes.

what else does that sound like? no wonder deku feels like tomura needs help, despite everything...

again, this isn't to say that csa is definitely the cause of these things, just that tomura does have an abundance of behaviors and imagery that could easily be read that way.

#shigaraki tomura #tomura shigaraki #Tenko Shimura #boku no hero academia #all for one #afo bnha #bnha #long post #ITS FINALLY HERE #i did my best i hope it makes sense #csa tw #child abuse tw #meta #ooc

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redrobin-detective · 3 years

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the only ghost in Amity Park

Continuation of Half Of

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Only in Amity Park did the revelation that a local teenager was sorta, kinda a ghost just blow over in a few days. Sure, people still stared at Danny Fenton as he walked by and everyone was still wondering what exactly he was, but overall life had moved on. Star sighed to herself as she organized her notebooks, waiting for class to begin. Just another day.

Star herself really didn’t want to get involved in whatever was going on with Danny. She didn’t like him before he was a celebrity and didn’t plan on starting anytime soon. While Paulina still relentlessly, and vainly, pumped him for information on her dead boy crush, Phantom and he and Dash formed some weird macho bond or whatever, Star avoided him. He’d given her the chills since the day he’d walked into Casper High. When Danny’s secret had been exposed mid-attack, Star hadn’t been surprised. She didn’t need some ghost to tell her that there was something deeply, unsettlingly wrong with Danny Fenton.

Danny didn’t seem particular bothered, by his inhuman nature or by suddenly having his secret exposed. If anything, the nerd looked more relaxed than ever. Star had been watching him, they all had, but Fenton kept his ghostly antics to a minimum when in public. The occasional flash of green eyes when emotional, a grin of sharpened teeth. He made Mikey’s locker lock intangible the other day when the kid had forgotten his combination and he floated down the stairs instead of walking sometimes. It had been a week and it was frightening how quickly such strangeness had become almost normal.

“Alright kids, phones and notes away we’re starting class with a pop quiz. Hope you’ve all kept up with your weekly readings,” Faluca announced cheerily. The whole class, including Fenton, moaned and packed up their bags. Star supposed being an undead being haunting his own life didn’t make him immune from normal human problems. She was biting her lip trying to remember which antibody caused allergic reactions when she got an uneasy feeling. She looked up and was not surprised to see Danny Fenton looking around too. It had been a solid week without ghost attacks, looks like Fenton’s supposed vacation time was up.

Star stopped her writing and adjusted the bag at her feet to prep for evacuation. She briefly wondered what Fenton would do, what he could do? Did he also hunt ghosts, like his parents? Like Phantom? There were no blasts, no screams, no monologues but the dread increased when a ghost shield descended over them. Actually, it looked like it was just covering their classroom. Now everyone was looking up from their quizzes and out the window at the flickering, green shield.

“You’d think the administration would’ve warned me we were going to do a drill,” Faluca said but his voice was hesitant. Clearly this wasn’t planned so despite the lack of alarms, there was a good chance this was real. “Pencils down for the moment while I figure out what’s going on.”

“Mr. Faluca, I need to go,” Danny said, raising his hand. Star was so used to hearing the request she almost ignored him but the dread curling in her stomach made her look again. His face was pinched, sharp and his eyes burned with an icy fury like a sudden storm blowing in without warning.

“Mr. Fenton, I don’t think...” Faluca murmured uneasily. Danny frowned harder.

“It wasn’t a request, actually,” Danny said roughly as he stood up and began walking towards the door. He was almost there when the door slammed open and Fenton had no less than 3 ectoweapons pointed in his face. A few kids jumped back in alarm but Danny held his ground as half a dozen Guys in White agents entered the room and surrounded him.

“Spectral scum formerly known as Daniel Fenton, you’re coming with us,” one of the agents said.

“Danny not Daniel and it’s still my name,” Danny quipped, eyeing each of the government officials and their weapons. “And no, I’m not. I’m still alive, somewhat anyway, so I have rights. The courts backed me up.”

“Everyone who signed for your freedom doesn’t know ghosts like we do,” Another agent said so forcefully, some spittle flew out of their mouth and hit Danny’s cheek. Star watched it freeze and fall away the instant it hit his skin. “Your kind are too dangerous to wander around, you need to be contained and eliminated. Don’t worry, your parents will receive a sizable check as recompense.”

“I’m the one who needs to be contained?” Danny said slowly, evenly but there was a static to his voice that caused the hairs on the back of Star’s neck to rise. When she breathed out, she saw her breath was misting. Everyone’s was as the room temperature continued to plummet. “When you come in here and take hostages to threaten me?” Danny hissed, he took a step forward and his eyes took on a neon green glow. “You didn’t come to my home or on the streets, you came to take me in the middle of biology when I’m surrounded by civilians, kids.”

“You delude yourself into thinking you’re still human,” another agent scoffed. “Everyone knows ghosts are weaker when giving into their obsession.” Danny laughed, it was loud and mocking and like fingernails running down a chalkboard. Faluca, stuck in between Danny and the agents, was white as a sheet and gripping his desk like it was the only thing keeping him from collapsing.

“You know nothing,” Danny hissed, his voice barely recognizable as human. His hair and shirt floated in an invisible but angry breeze. Frost crawled up his arms and his face. Various ecto alarms were ringing on the belts of the agents and they started to look a bit nervous. He looked nothing like the kid who, minutes before, had clearly been struggling with their bio quiz. “You have no idea what you’re dealing with. You cannot come into my haunt and threaten my people to get to me. Protecting what is mine will always make me stronger!”

“This whole town is constantly under attack because of things like you!” One particularly brave agent said even as a few others had backed up. “Amity Park is on the verge of collapse because of all the ghosts!”

“There is only one ghost in Amity Park,” Danny said, he tilted his head, his black and white hair dangling in his face as he gave a sharpened smile. “There is only me and the ghosts I allow, ghosts who know the rules, who respect my authority here by keeping damage to people and property down. I am the only ghost haunting this town and why do you think that is?” One agent threw down his gun and ran through the open door.

“You’re-you’re a monster!” Another woman shouted, shaking as she stepped back before fleeing.

“I’m not the one who needs to threaten innocents to get to their target,” Danny sneered. “It’s a good thing you did though, I wouldn’t hold back if I wasn’t worried about collateral.” Another three agents turned tail and ran. Until there was only one left. His gun was still trained on Danny but his hands were shaking.

“You don’t scare us,” the agent trembled through the obvious lie having been abandoned by his comrades. “We’ll get you monster, if it’s the last thing we do.”

“Looking forward to it,” Danny drawled sarcastically as some of his horrifying aura dissipated along with the freezing grip on the room. Within moments Danny has settled back into more human form. While he’d been angry before, now he looked almost bored. At no point had he seemed afraid.

“You take your people and your equipment and you leave Amity’s borders by sunset tonight,” Danny declared resolutely. “If you have continued problems with my existence, you take it up with the courts. We settle this as humans but if you treat me as a ghost then I will fight back like one.” His eyes turned green again as a threat. As a promise.

“I don’t take orders from spooks!” The agent shouted, securing his finger on the trigger and preparing to fire. Star had ducked to avoid the blast so she missed exactly what happened. All she saw was the green glow and heard a strangled scream from the agent followed by a series of thumps. By the time Star had gotten back into her seat, Danny was aggressively pulling apart the ectogun with his bare hands. There was no sign of the agent and, around them, the ghost shield fizzled away.

“Jerks,” Danny grumbled, kicking at the remains of the ectogun he’d destroyed. “Sorry about that, Mr. Faluca. I knew they’d cause problems but I didn’t think they’d come to school.” Their teacher stared at Danny like a rabbit facing down a lion. “You okay?”

“Fine, Mr. Fenton, just fine!” Falcua grinned in a high pitched voice. “Shall we get back to our quizzes?” The bell rang just then and Danny did a little fist pump.

“Tomorrow then? After I get a chance to study more?” Danny asked with puppy dog eyes. It looked wrong on his face that had just threatened the government with bodily harm. Faluca just nodded dumbly, not sure what else to say. “Yes! I’ll pass tomorrow for sure. The attention kinda sucks but it does come with some perks.”

He walked back to his desk, ignoring the wide-eyed looks of the class when he stopped and gasped, his breath fogging in front of him. His lips pursed again with annoyance. A few people jumped in surprise as the Box Ghost, a familiar annoyance, poked his head through the wall.

“Child! Your requested reprieve is up and the Box Ghost is here to cause insurmountable square shenanigans!” He laughed heartily, stopping when the room temperature dropped again. Danny didn’t even turn to face the ghost.

“Your watch is off, Boxy. I have another 10 hours before I have to deal with you annoyances again,” Danny growled. “I’m feeling good right now, take advantage of it and leave in one piece.”

“Uh right okay then,” the ghost stammered, sinking back into the wall. “See you tomorrow.” Danny cracked his neck before he walked to his desk, grabbed his things and walked to the front of the room.

“Late bell’s gonna ring any minute, you guys should hurry if you don’t wanna be late,” Danny said as he left. Falcua’s strength gave out as soon as Fenton was gone and he hit the floor, one hand clutching at his chest.

“Jeepers,” Mikey surmised appropriately before stuffing his things in his bag and leaving as well. Star watched everyone loosen up themselves and begin gathering their things to leave. No, she would never like Danny Fenton but he and his ghost weirdness was just part of the deal now, whether they wanted it or not. Such was life in the most haunted city in America which was only haunted by a single ghostly entity.

#feral danny my beloved #i wasn't going to continue Half Of but I was Inspired (tm)#In an AU where Fenton and Phantom aren't known to be the same #Danny lets all his unholy elderich nightmare self out as Fenton and keeps Phantom as cute and friendly as possible #also Danny didnt kill the GIW agent lol #just intangibly threw the bastard outside and took his gun #I was inspired (obviously) by the implication of Danny being the only ghost to truly haunt amity #that any other ghost there is only there bc Danny allows them in #that you can come to Phantom's haunt but you must follow his rule or its Death 2.0 The Trauma Edition #also I lost my shit writing insurmountable square shenanigans so please appreciate it #I actually had two whole paragraphs on Star being sensitive to otherworldly things how it ran in her family #then decided that it kinda distracted from the story so i took it it out #but Its still somethng interesting #explains just why she dislikes danny so much (from what we saw in canon) compared to other A listers who tolerate him at least

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backofthebookshelf · 4 years

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Horror Recs for Magnus Fans, Part the Second

Last time I did this I was assuming that anyone who was listening to a horror podcast already knew some horror, but I have since learned that this is not the case, so there are a few more classics in here, as well as some more of my faves.

For anyone and everyone who listens to TMA: Sarah Monette's Kyle Murchison Booth stories, many (though not all) of which are collected in The Bone Key. Queer information professional would very much like for ghosts and monsters to leave him alone, does not get what he wants; can't resist the impulse to help out people who are more fucked over than him anyway. I love Booth so much, he deserves much better things than he gets.

For Web stans: Blindsight by Peter Watts, a sci-fi horror novel about free will and consciousness. Lydia Nicholas named this as one of her favorite books in the first Assistant's Round Table; I respect her for it, but I read this once and it gave me an existential crisis. Highly recommended, but make sure you've got a palate cleanser.

For jonelias fans and/or fans of the Corruption: Candyman (1992). With bonus folklore & urban legend meta! Kissing bees into your (potential) lover's mouth in order to convince them to become a murderous spirit of vengeance just like you! "All you have left is my desire for you"!!! It's extremely sexy, is what I'm saying, in all the best ways. (Trigger warnings for violence against children and a fair amount of gore, in addition to the aforementioned bees.)

If you love the no-holds-barred social commentary of season five: The Ballad of Black Tom by Victor LaValle. No, I will not shut up about this book until absolutely everyone in the world has read it. It's short! You could read it in an afternoon! This is Lovecraft's "The Horror at Red Hook" from the point of view of a black musician and hustler who's hired to help out with the ritual, and it's incredible. (If you're enjoying Lovecraft Country, absolutely do not miss this.)

If you miss the standalone statements of season one and two: the works of the early 20th century cosmic horror and ghost story writers: M.R. James, Algernon Blackwood, Arthur Machen. Machen has a tendency to get pretty eugenics-y, and they're all either misogynistic or don't have women in their stories at all, but goddamn do they do atmosphere. ("The Magnus Archives" is named after James's "Count Magnus," Jonny's favorite M.R. James story.)

For Stranger fans and those who love unexplained mysteries: The Twisted Ones by T. Kingfisher, a Southern horror (not a Gothic) about a woman who goes to clean out her abusive grandmother's house to sell it only to find that there are things other than his wife that her grandfather was afraid of, and for good reason. Features hot competent neighbors, extremely practical reactions to terrible monsters, and a Very Good Dog (the dog does not die).

For Lonely bitches: "The Horla" by Guy de Maupassant, the story I use to describe my depression to people. That's a pretty good content warning, honestly.

If you loved the "Am I still human?" plotline: The Monster of Elendhaven by Jennifer Giesbrecht, a grotesque little novella about monsters in (dysfunctional) love. I'm a bit iffy on the ending, but honestly landing the ending of horror is so tricky that I'll almost never discount something just because I'm iffy on the ending. The body horror and emotional repression throughout make up for it.

If you crave the supernatural adventure series starring Gerry Keay: The Sandman Slim series by Richard Kadrey - modern noir, so gritty you can feel it in your teeth, featuring all kinds of monsters, demons, curses, and narrowly-averted apocalypses. Not as misogynistic as noir can get, but it is noir so there's definitely a bit of that (but definitely not as misogynistic as Jim Butcher). Trigger warnings all over the place; this is B-movie horror in book form.

For Distortion fans: The Haunting of Hill House by Shirley Jackson. Bears almost no resemblance to the Netflix series of the same name, or any of the movies based on it; this is a twisty psychological novel with a profoundly unreliable narrator and a lot of repressed queerness. Michael/Helen would be right at home in Hill House. (Content warning for suicidality.)

If you want your horror to make you cry: El Orfanado, directed by Guillermo del Toro; a family moves into a house that used to be an orphanage, that is, of course, haunted. This is a tremendous distillation of the way that horror movies are so often centered around women not being believed, so content warning for gaslighting (and for harm to children); I saw this movie once and entire scenes are embedded in my brain in full color. (Honestly you can't go wrong with any Guillermo del Toro movies; he's fantastic.)

If you want your horror to make you cry, but make it gay: In the Flesh, two seasons of a zombie TV show tragically cut short (yes, it ends on a cliffhanger, I’m sorry). Uses zombies as a metaphor for homophobia, but also includes actual queer people. Content warning for small-town-typical homophobia and tragic gays. Please come yell with me about Simon Monroe, I love him so much.

For Slaughter fans: The Shining by Stephen King - look, look, I know. He's not great. He needs an editor. The movie is all kinds of fucked up. But this book is one of the most raw, personal horror stories I've ever read, and it's got an excellent combination of supernatural influence and real-life mundane fear of addiction and personal weakness that really grabs you by the intestines. Again, an iffy ending, but it's worth it for the slow descent into paranoia and madness.

If you just want to try to find some authors to read: The Borderlands anthology series, paperbacks from the height of the 80s horror boom; there are so many different kinds of stories in here that I can pretty much guarantee you that you won't like some of them but you might well find something new to fall in love with. A lot of these writers are out of print but readily available at used bookstores or for pennies on Amazon.

As always, let me know if you liked any of these or if you have a specific need: it is no longer my job to recommend books and media to people but it is still my very favorite thing to do and I will be obnoxious about it forever

#the magnus archives #tma #horror recs #horror #book recs #movie recs

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remember-to-be-gentle · 4 years

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Subject: BNHA, Dabi aka Touya Todoroki

Title: House Party Bully 4 (NSFW, fem reader)

Trigger Warning: Non con, pregnancy, (accidentally) induced labor, drinking, smoking (weed), obsession, possessive behavior, forced marriage, dick piercings, family trauma, voyeurism, drunk kisses, jealousy

“Avoid,” Touya said slowly, finally, “the others when you can.” It was obvious advice, especially after what his siblings had done to you, but you just nodded and laid on his bed. He glanced at you and sat down beside you. For a moment, you thought he’d rub your back or pet your hair, but he pushed you onto your side, forcing you to face away from him. “Laying on your side is better for the baby.”

Right. Even if Touya was, arguably, better than the rest of his family, he was just like them: only after the fetus growing inside you and the things that came with it. Milk, whatever prestige fucked up rich families like these got with grandkids, and ownership over you.

“I’ll get a job,” Touya added suddenly, “a good one, then we can move out.”

We. The word felt like an umbilical cord around your throat, connecting you to him and the baby you didn’t want. You were choking. But you needed him. Just as much as he wanted you to need him. “Don’t worry about moving out,” you mumbled into his sheets, “I’m sure your father wouldn’t let us.”

Touya twitched beside you. He seemed to be thinking because he was quiet for a long moment. The mattress caved closer to you. “Hey,” he said, voice soft, “you didn’t like my dad better, right?”

Something cold washed down your body. Every muscle from your head to your toes froze and curled in on themselves. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You felt him roll over, his back nearly pressed against yours, heat soaking through your shirt with unwanted comfort. He was silent for a moment, like he’d rather drop the subject, but then pushed on to say, “You didn’t like him better when he fucked you, did you?”

With as much ice as you could muster you replied, “I didn’t like it when either of you assaulted me.”

That seemed to rile Touya up because the bed shook with the weight of him leaping off it. He grabbed your arm, forced you onto your back, his grip bruising. “I didn’t assault you!”

“Then what would you prefer to call it Touya?” You glared at him, the ice in your body replaced with insufferable heat. “Rape? Teaching a rat a lesson?”

He backed off at that. “No, it was...” He bit his lip. “Forget it.”

He made for the door and your rage washed away with panic. “Where are you going?” You may have hated him, but you needed him to keep the hungry mouths of his siblings off you.

Touya stopped in the doorway and sighed. “I’m going out. The others won’t bother you if you stay in here.” He started to close the door behind him and stopped, one cerulean eye locking onto you. “If you need anything, you can call me.”

You wanted to say something back, something biting and cruel, but the ugly truth was that he’d saved you and you needed him. Your throat was tight when you said, “Okay.”

The door shut.

You laid back on your side. How did Touya bullying you turn into this? You were both just college students and suddenly you’d been roped into his fucked up family and forced to have his fucked up baby. There was a little him inside you. The thought made you sick to your stomach, but you laid there and held onto the sheets that smelled like your captor. The safest Todoroki. What an ironic thought. It was like calling him the least poisonous snake: regardless of which one sunk their teeth into you, you weren't coming out unscathed.

At some point you must have fallen asleep because you were startled awake by your phone ringing. You were too groggy to check the ID and answered. “Hello?” Your voice was weak from disuse.

“Did I wake you?” Ice ate your bones when you heard the voice. Deep baritone and stone cold. Enji Todoroki continued, “Sorry. I managed to pull some strings with a friend of mine to keep this quiet. Long story short,” he paused, “welcome to the family Mrs. Todoroki.”

Every word, every reaction, every thought vanished into a vacuum, a vacuum named shock. He’d done it. Any hope of escape after the baby was born vanished just like that. You were branded with his name just as your body would never be the same after it delivered his baby. You couldn’t even muster up the strength to hang up the phone.

“Rei and I,” Enji continued as if he hadn’t just destroyed your future, “are on our way home now. I’ve got another doctor’s appointment scheduled tomorrow.”

You didn’t reply.

“We’ll able to find out the gender of the baby,” he said, “Rei’s eager to know but Touya might prefer the surprise. Do you have a preference?”

The blank space that held your feelings erupted. Your preference? Now he cared about your fucking preference? Fuck no. Fuck that. You screamed and hung up, throwing your phone across the room into a pile of dirty laundry. You wanted to punch Enji in his stupid face. You wanted to kick Touya in his breeding balls. You wanted to... You screamed again and this time tears streamed down your face. Defiance leaked out of you with every sob. You were trapped.

*******************************************************************************************

For the next four and a half months it felt like Enji was keep you away from Touya. He dragged you from appointment to appointment, insisting you stay in your room. Thankfully the other three hadn't so much as knocked on your door, but that didn't ease your anxiety in the slightest.

As your belly grew rounder it became harder to attend classes without people gossiping, especially with Enji by your side. When you couldn't fit into your desk one day it hit you that you'd have to balance Touya, school, and a needy baby. Suddenly you weren't so sure you wanted to attend classes in person.

It didn't help when you could feel it, yes it because Enji had decided to withhold the baby's gender, kicking inside you. It hurt. It was like being bullied by Touya all over again. The thought made you want to cry, but you were in class and simply bit your lip. The baby kept kicking.

After you got home from school, there was a note on the kitchen counter. "Out of town for Shouto's jujutsu match. Back Monday - Enji." The house was empty. You had the Todoroki manor to yourself. Was this your chance to run, while they were all gone?

But the front door opened. Touya stumbled in with his friends behind him. He looked at you, snarled, and walked away.

Toga smiled at you. "We're having a party tonight, feel free to come and bring your friend, too!" She pointed at your swollen belly and giggled following Touya.

Shigaraki and Spinner barely nodded at you. Twice gave you a thumbs up.

So this was how Touya got away with his parties.

But still the party could be your escape. A million cars on the lawn and—

You doubled over grabbing the counter to hold yourself steady. Throbbing pain burst around belly button as the tiny Todoroki inside you reminded you of it's presence. The baby could come any day. And then where would you go? Even if you ran you'd be alone, almost due, without any of your things: including the funds needed to simply give birth. No wonder Enji was comfortable taking off: you didn't have another option to leave without endangering yourself or the baby. Fuck.

Grabbing a snack you went back to your room and went to sleep.

*******************************************************************************************

Pounding base ripped you from your dreams. Each vibration traveling down your body and making every cell electrify. A familiar headache formed behind your eyes. This was just like the party nine months ago, disorienting and loud and fuck... The base was making you sick. This needed to stop. Touya. You needed to find Touya.

Quickly you pulled out your phone and called the number that felt like signing away your soul to the devil. It rang and rang and rang. Nothing. Shit. At least you knew where Touya would be. He could stop this.

You made for the door, wobbling and waddling with that cursed ten pound weight on your stomach. Nausea made it hard to focus on where you were. You wanted to vomit. You used the walls to help keep yourself upright as you descended into the bass, cringing when it started pumping louder.

Just gotta get to the study, you thought, that's where Touya always was with his friends.

Even thought you'd lived here for what felt like the better part of your pregnancy, you hadn't had the freedom to walk around alone. It was so big and twisted and confusing, especially since you could barely move. But you could also remember when Touya dragged you to his room, the smell of liquor on his breath and weed in his clothes.

He'd been terrifying then. An unknowable monster that plagued your school life. Now, he was still a monster, but one you were beginning to understand—no matter how much you didn't want to.

You understood that Touya was a result of his toxic family. You understood that Touya would likely never have normal romantic relationships. You understood that you were now parts of both these things. You understood that none of this was your fault and you didn't deserve any of it. And nothing would change in understanding your situation.

You pressed on, breathing hard, and stopped. God you wanted to sit and sleep, but the bass was an ache in your bones that kept biting you awake. You didn't have the energy for this. You checked where you were and nearly sobbed. Big chocolate doors with ornate handles. The study.

You burst through the doors. The smell of weed hit you before anything, making you double over coughing. Enji’s study was exactly how you remembered it, though the potent smell of weed this time was far worse. It was like your body couldn’t handle even the thought of it, your stomach churning, bile lapping at your esophagus. Voices fluttered through the room overlapping and swelling until you could pull out Touya's, talking excitedly. He cut himself and then started again, "There she is." His words were slurred, messy. He’d been drinking.

He whipped around, nearly falling over his legs to get to you. A hiccup raked up his body and he burst into giggles. “She’s here,” he said again, “she came all the way down here to see me. Are you enjoying the party, babe?” Touya wrapped you in a foul smelling hug, burying his face in your hair.

Despite how uncomfortable you were, you couldn’t help noticing how he seemed to be avoiding your bloated stomach. “Turn off the music,” you said, “its giving me a headache.”

“But the party,” Touya whined in your ear.

“You and your friends can smoke and drink, I don’t care, but the music has to stop. Its driving me crazy.”

Whatever happy attitude Touya wore vanished. He dropped his arms from around you leaving you cold. “Its driving you crazy?” He backed you up against the wall, his face inches from yours, a snarl across his mouth. “Do you have any idea how I’ve felt? I’m the one who knocked you up and I barely even see you. We live in the same fucking house! You belong to me and yet you let Fuyu and Natsu suck on your tits like it was their baby inside you.” His blue eyes were fire, boring into you. “The baby isn’t dad’s or my siblings. Its mine,” his fire died out in a moment, head hanging low, the tips of his hair tickling your nose, “even if I didn’t want it.”

Your mouth fell open. This was his scheme, his plan, to knock you up, keep you at his side and he didn’t even want it? “What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Tears exploded out of your eyes, your nose swelling. “You took my freedom, my life, and you didn’t even want it?” Your voice broke into a shriek, “You bullied me every fucking day because you have a fucking crush on me and—and—.” You burst into sobs, whatever thoughts you had died on your tongue.

Touya stared at you, his eyebrows narrowed. You thought he was going to yell at you, tell you it was your fault for making him like you in the first place. “You know,” his voice was rough, deep, “I always liked it when you yelled at me.” And then his mouth was on yours, teeth against teeth and tongue sloppily trying to enter your mouth.

You tried to push him off, anger flaring in your chest like a wildfire, but Touya was bigger and stronger. Even drunk and high he was powerful. Another reminder of the night he’d assaulted you. Another reminder that the Todorokis could lord over you however they pleased.

One of his friends started laughing. “I’ve never seen Touya get this worked up,” it sounded like Spinner, “wonder how far he’ll go.”

Touya pulled back, spit connecting your mouths. His chest heaved and so did yours as you both took in oxygen. He turned around, smiled. “You just want to see my dick.”

The others laughed in that way stoners did when they weren’t sure what was happening but they were still enjoying themselves. “C’mon,” Shigaraki laughed, “whip it out, Toga said you got a new piercing.”

“Gotta get hard first,” Touya laughed. He dragged you to the automan and pushed you onto your back, your head just a foot from where the others sat smoking. The smile on his face vanished when your shirt rode up over your swollen stomach, your belly button flat against the stretched out skin. Slowly he put his hand on your stomach, feeling how taut it was and froze when the baby kicked.

He met your eyes. “I—.”

“C’mon Touya,” Toga groaned, her mouth stretched into a hungry smile, “show us how you knocked her up.” They all laughed at that. Of all of them, you would have thought that Toga would be on your side, at least telling them off, but she seemed just as into your torture as the rest of them.

Touya snapped out of whatever thought he was in, smiling that doped out smile again. He wrapped your legs around his waist and bucked into your clothed cunt.

A high pitched shriek left your mouth. It was just humping and yet your body was reacting to it like Touya had just pinched your clit. The fiery rage inside you turned into a different type of heat. “Please,” you grabbed Touya’s shirt, “don’t do this.”

He kissed your cheek. “I’m just giving my friends a show,” he smiled cruelly, “rat.” He bucked again and this time you bit your tongue to keep from crying out. "Ah-ah," Touya whined, "you're not allowed to hold back. We're putting on a show." He dug his tongue into your mouth again, careful to make sure you had nothing to hold back your cries except for him.

He roughly bucked against you again, his flat stomach rubbing over your swollen one. His friends cooed and cawed as he humped you through your clothes, his cock growing stiff and swollen in his pants. Touya grunted into your mouth and then pulled off gasping. "Fuck, I want to be inside." He stepped away, clawing at his pants to free himself.

You tried to get up, run away, but his friends pinned you down, held you for him.

Touya didn’t seem to notice the assist, too distracted trying to unhook one of the piercings from his zipper. When he finally managed to free himself, you saw the prince albert piercing you’d felt the first time and new ones along the bottom. Near the base of his cock was the beginnings of a jacob’s ladder.

He crossed back over to you and yanked off your pants with your panties following close behind. He stared at your exposed entrance, a soft drunk giggle escaping his lips. “I don’t think I got a good enough look at this last time.” He kissed your clit and just as quickly bit into it making you shriek. “God,” he groaned, “you’re pretty.” He aligned himself with your entrance and pushed in.

A hiss left his mouth, his hands gripping the automan tightly. “Fuuuuuuuck, you weren’t this tight last time.”

“Last time,” your voice nearly broke, “I wasn’t heavily pregnant.”

He smirked at you, “That must be the secret to good sex then.” Touya didn't wait for you to adjust, sliding all the way out and back in, his piercings dragging roughly against your walls. A low groan rippled out of his throat. He hunkered down above you, practically tucking himself into you with his head buried in your neck and stomach against yours. He kept up that rough pace as his friends smoked and laughed.

You winched when the baby started kicking again.

Touya froze. He’d felt it, too. He lifted himself up, keeping his cock firmly inside you, and ran his hands over your belly. You couldn’t decipher the look on his face. “Hey, calm down,” he said, “Daddy’s right here, there’s no need to freak out. Don’t be so selfish with Mommy’s cunt.”

He started up his rhythm again, rougher and deeper. You shrieked when he hit your cervix and then did it again, taking your cries as encouragement. “Stop it,” you begged, pulling at his shirt, “don’t do that you’re gonna—.”

“Gonna make you cum,” Touya chuckled as if he’d finished your sentence for you. He lifted your legs over his shoulders, practically shoving your already impregnated form into a mating press. Each thrust had your heavy belly bouncing, your swollen tits leaking, your throat raw from crying. It should have been uncomfortable and terrible but the ugly truth was Touya knew how to fuck you well, from the first time he’d assaulted you to now, he felt good.

He was better than his father.

Touya growled as he started pumping faster, ramming your cervix harder and harder until—

You screamed. This wasn’t you cumming, this was something different, something old and terrible that had your entire body shaking and flexing at once. Hot fluid poured out of you and onto the automan, splashing the front of Touya’s jeans and shirt.

He froze, that careless smile wiped away in less than a second. “What was that?”

“Holy shit,” Shigaraki muttered, “I think you broke her water.” And then he burst into laughter. Everyone was laughing, everyone except you and Touya.

“No,” he whined, “nonononononono. Please don’t, no.” He pulled out of you and tried to cover your entrance but it wasn’t done leaking. “I’m not ready for a baby. I’m not ready to be a father. I don’t want... I didn’t...” He locked eyes with you, fear coloring the blue color of his eyes. Of every expression you’d seen him wear, fear was not one of them: until now. He looked at you like you could do something about it, like you could just hold it in and wait until tomorrow, but the baby was coming and it hurt.

You screamed again and the stoners stopped laughing.

“Bro,” Toga said, “I think she’s actually, like, y’know.”

Touya collapsed on his hands and knees, tears flowing down his face. His chest caved and expanded as he panted. “No,” he kept crying. He crawled across the floor to his phone, quickly opening it and dialing a number. You could barely hear the exchange over your pain, a deep and terrible tearing, but you did hear Touya say, “I didn’t mean to. Dad, please, help me.”

You don’t know how long you laid there curled on your side, sobbing in pain, but the study doors burst open, Enji reeking of cold night air in just a button down and slacks. He looked between you and Touya, sighed, and scooped you off the automan. “We’re going to the hospital, you’re gonna be fine.”

You did not feel like you’d be fine.

Touya had sloppily redressed himself, still crying. He followed Enji out into the car. He climbed into the passenger seat while Enji buckled you up in the back. You grit your teeth to keep from screaming again.

Enji shook the car as he climbed into the driver’s seat and peeled away from the Todoroki mansion. “I warned you,” he growled at his son, “that you needed to be delicate with her and what did you do? You tried to fuck her to impress your friends.”

“I’m sorry,” Touya sobbed.

“You could have given her, or your baby an infection or worse,” he growled, “don’t do it again next time.”

You tried not to think about that last comment.

The hospital was quick and efficient, taking you into the delivery room. Your mind was blank as they talked about contractions and potential complications. And then you were holding someone’s hand and screaming like you’d never screamed before, in more pain than you’d ever experienced in your life, for more hours than you thought possible in a day.

When it was done, a nurse dumped your newborn on your chest, a tiny little lump of flesh so red he matched his hair. His father’s hair. His grandfather’s hair. A baby boy. A nurse said something about a name but all you could do was lay there and watch as the baby opened his cerulean eyes and began to wail.

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the-goddess-of-mischief-writing · 4 years

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Can I request a Loki X female reader, his wife. There in bed sleeping and Loki has a nightmare that Thanos gets her and he's powerless to stop him, he wakes up and wakes her up to make sure she is okay but she isn't breathing and Loki has to help her. Unless it makes you uncomfortable 🙂

A/N: Sorry for the late response nony, I’ve been sick the last month and haven't had the time, or clear enough mind tbh, to write your request. But, anyways, here you have it, hope you’re ready for pure angst. (PSA; Includes near death experience which may be triggering for some)

Living Nightmare

Albeit the blade to his throat, Loki tried reaching forward. But it was useless, hence before he even could get close to you, he felt the edge of the weapon pierce his skin, making droplets of blood fall the length of his neck.

"Please, release her", his voice was meagre, as he for a second switched to look up at the capturer. He had thought he never would see him again, the warlord, Thanos. He had lived peacefully long before he even married you. But he thought, after the day he officially was able to call you his, maybe fate would've spared him his past crimes. But it seemed all had been an illusion, a play of his peaceful and neglecting mind. Because now he stood there, out of reach to save you in the titans grasp.

You looked so puny, with his long sworn enemy's hand fisted around your neck. He could see your stuttering breaths leave your chest, but as the titan let out a low rumble, a sound inclining he laughed, he heard a strangled gasp leave you.

"The almighty Loki, already begging", a grin crossed Thanos face as he flexed his fingers to ease his grip again. In the sound of you gulping down as much air as you could, he continued. "All because of a mortal, who had thought?" The titan turned you to him and immediately Loki saw your body tense, fear rolling off you in waves as your captor raised his other hand.

One of his fingers gently tucked a strand of your hair that had shielded your face behind your ear. The action made the god of mischief grit his teeth. He had no right touching you the way he did, clutching your throat, having the life of you in his hands. He owned even less right to touch you as gently and caring as he just had. But just as Loki was about to lash out, try and tear away from those holding him in place, Thanos made you face him again.

"You are at your wit's end, god of mischief", the titan clutched your throat harder once more. This time you couldn't stop your hands from flying up and trying to ease the grip. Loki saw the urgency burning brighter in your eyes now as they met his in a hurried glance.

"Darling, look at me, please look at me", he said as soon as your eyes started flitting around the space, in what he understood was waining faith. Nevertheless, the moment your gaze merged with his once more, he saw you calm the tiniest bit. "You'll be fine, I promise you", though you tried concentrating on his voice, the voice appearing beside your head drowned Loki's.

"Have you not learned everything coming from him is lies", it was like a snake hissed it in your ear, low and only for you to hear. You felt the giant's words etch itself into your gut, whilst your heart pained when hearing your lover be called something he never been with you. He was not a liar.

"No!" Loki screamed, seeing the way the sword pierced through your body. Your face scrunched up and halted the movement your mouth began, words dying before they left you. He saw the momentary shock spread over your futures as you followed the place he looked at.

Blood coated the blade red as your trembling hands touched the metal. The move was sluggish and when you looked up to him again, he noticed how your eyelids started closing. Blood dripped past your lips as your lungs seemed to fill with the red liquid. Despite all his urge to rush towards you, Loki couldn't do more than witness how the strength left your body as you swayed in your place.

Thanos must have noticed your rapidly lowering pulse or, more likely, the way you became too unsteady to hold yourself up, because he let go. The disappearance of the sole force holding you upright made you stumble forward. Your action made the blade slip out of you and immediately you clutched the wound. But it was no use, a flush of red passed your fingers and coated your steadily pailing limbs.

It was with a whimper and last pitying look at him, you fell. Time slowed down as Loki watch your body plunge forward, although the second you were to connect with the hard and unforgiving ground, everything froze.

With a start Loki jolted awake, sitting upright in the bed. He felt his shirt cling to his body, drops of sweat rolling down the nape of his neck. Which all together made his hair stick to his skin. His mind reeled, while his breath heaved, as he replayed the nightmare in his mind. You had died.

Swiftly looking to his side, he saw your slumped form resting beside him. You were there, unharmed.

"Love, are you awake?" His coarse voice was followed by a soft kiss on your shoulder as he leaned over your form.

It was something he always did when the nightmares plagued him, seeking refuge in your company. It was something about your caring touch and calming words that eased his mind. Thus it had become a routine. When he would awaken from horrors, he would also wake you up.

"Love?" Loki mumbled as you didn't stir from your sleep and kept being turned away from him. He knew you should've woken up by now because you were a light sleeper. But when seeing no reaction, a worry etched onto his features. "Y/N?" He gently pushed on your shoulder, so you turned to lay fully on your back.

As soon as you did, he saw your face. Instead of looking peaceful as it usually did when sleeping, it looked... emotionless. Cold. He felt his pulse quicken as his eyes started to flicker over your face until it travelled to your chest. It was then he noticed, it didn't move. It felt like someone dunked him in cold water as he jumped into a seated position.

"Do you hear me?" He gently patted the side of your face, but more than making it gently rock to the side, it didn't elicit any other reaction. "Y/N!" Loki shook your shoulders, the same panic he felt in his dream returning. Only now everything happening was real.

Without any hesitation, he leaned forward, closed his finger over your nose and connected his lips to yours. It was no kiss, but instead, a move of pushing his exhaled into your mouth. However, with a hasty glance towards your chest, he saw it still didn't move, so he moved to begin with compressions.

Come one darling, breath from me, the god continuously mumbled as he repeated the set of moves. However, no matter his tries, he never felt a change.

It was from pure dread of your unaltered state, he raked his brain for a spell or purely something to help you. Loki didn't know if it was from fear, or that he simply didn't have a spell that could work, but he fumbled fruitlessly through his memory.

"No, no, no!" His voice cracked as it entered a high pitch, flawed by the same fear he had in his dream. This couldn't be true, it couldn't, but it was. Despite his tries to help you nothing happened, for once, or maybe twice this night, the god of mischief felt helpless.

But then, suddenly, something happened. Loki felt how his breath didn't easily flow down to your lungs, but how a pressure met it. This made him retreat, lean away to watch you from where he knelt at your side.

It was violent, the way your chest suddenly heaved as you gulped down air, despite your throat turning it into a cough on the exhale. But it was a violence Loki couldn't but shred tears at, thus, at least it was a reaction.

Though the procedure repeated itself and showed no effects of decreasing the nearest future, you sat up. Immidielty your hand sought the god's, which he quickly gave to you. You clutched it hard enough for your nails to press half-moons into his skin, but he couldn't care any less.

What Loki focused on, however, was how he felt your chilled fingers returning to their natural temperature. He also noticed the colour returning to your face, even though it may have been more flushed than usually thanks to your jerking movement.

It was relief that flooded his body as he witnessed you slowly but surely regain your breath. He wanted to hug you, kiss you, thank you for returning to him. Though at the moment he could do nothing but stare silently.

Not until your arm lowered from clutching your chest, face turning to him, teary gaze meeting his, he crumbled. His hand released yours, to instead pulled you into a hug. Despite having thought it was gentle, Loki understood it hadn't when a huff left you. But what was important was that he didn't suffocate you. He felt your chest move against his and for each time it did, he felt blessed. Because at the moment, he couldn't let go, he simply couldn't. Not tonight, when he had both dreamt a nightmare and lived in one.

#Loki Laufeyson #loki marvel #loki x reader #loki x reader fanfic #loki x reader angst #loki x reader fluff #hurt and comfort #near death experience #might be triggering #angst #fluff #fanfiction #fanfic #MCU loki #MCU #Marvel MCU #MCU fic #marvel fanfiction

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whatareyousearchingfordean · 4 years

Text

Happiness Continues

Part 3: 8 Weeks Pregnant

Summary: Jensen and his wife get their first glimpse of their growing baby.

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Plus Size Reader

Word Count: 2.6K+

Warnings: Language, brief descriptions of internal ultrasound, pregnancy related emotions

Author’s Note: This part is a little shorter than the others, but that doesn’t mean it won’t leave its impact on the story. Thanks again to @emoryhemsworth for giving this a once over, love you babes. As always, I love to hear what you all thought. Reactions, theories, or just plain flailing, I love it all xoxo Alex

“Brb crying,” @emoryhemsworth

Catch up with the series masterlist and then check out Alexandra’s Library for more by yours truly!

There was absolutely nothing glamorous about being pregnant. Y/n now stood by that statement and if anyone tried to convince her otherwise, well, she might just stab them with a fork. That’s where she was at this point. Granted, she was still in her first trimester, but she was adamant about it sucking.

First of all, the baby wouldn’t let her eat a thing. She had figured out how to control the smells quickly. They still tended to make her stomach churn, but at least she could stave off the actual vomiting. Mostly, it was anytime there was a strong scent in her general vicinity; anything distinct enough for her to detect what it was could trigger something. Unfortunately for her, that included her husband’s cologne, a scent that happened to be both of their favorites. That was awkward when he walked out of their bedroom one morning all pressed and ready to go for the day, coming to hug his wife goodbye only to have her cringe and run away to the bathroom to lose the contents of her stomach.

For the past three weeks, though, she had been living on a diet of ginger ale, peppermint tea, and sugar-free hard candies. Her stomach would turn out just about anything else and, to be honest, its preferences for what it could handle changed daily and Y/n had given up trying. Every meal was a new adventure for her and the baby. Her hours of scouring the internet for something, anything, for her to eat were wasted. Their baby did not care for anything.

Hiding her symptoms was becoming increasingly easier, though. With it still being so early, and not having even seen a doctor yet, both her and Jensen were wary to tell anyone. Call them superstitious, but they didn’t want to jinx anything just yet. Besides, it was kind of nice basking in the news just the two of them. It reminded them of the start of their relationship, only this secret wouldn’t end in a fist to a jaw... hopefully. As far as they knew, no one was suspicious of anything in both their friends and family as well as coworkers in her office.

Y/n stood in their bedroom, the dawn light peering in through the curtains as she examined herself in the mirror. Lately, she had been sleeping like a cat, but today her anxiety was in full force. The woman had tossed and turned all night, finally deciding to crawl out of bed and jump into the shower when the sun first made its appearance over the horizon. It was no use trying to sleep anymore.

As she stood there, turned to one side, she ran a hand over her lower abdomen. If she cocked her head just right, she could have sworn she noticed the start of what would ultimately be a massive balloon in the middle of her stomach. Though, to be fair, she could also be imagining it. The mind sees what it wants to, right?

The sound of the sheets ruffling had her snapping her head around to her husband who still lay in bed. He stretched out his long limbs, the longer locks on the top of his head mussed from his night’s sleep. He blinked a few times as he woke, quick to take in the looming figure of his wife at the foot of the bed. A smirk graced his features as his eyes traveled up her bare legs, noticing all she had on was a pair of panties.

“Mmm, I’ll take this wake up call any day.” His voice was husky with sleep. His wife rolled her eyes but climbed up on the bed anyway, crawling into his waiting arms and laying against his bare chest.

Y/n sighed as she nuzzled into him, “I can barely go ten minutes without being either exhausted or needing to vomit, so unless you have some sort of The Exorcist fetish I don’t know about, then I’m gonna have to decline.”

“Ugh, god,” Jensen scrunched up his nose, pushing his wife away from him as he climbed from the bed. She laughed, chasing after him into their master bathroom. Y/n slipped her arms around his waist, pulling his back against her bare chest and placing a kiss between his shoulder blades. The pressure against her sore breasts was uncomfortable right now, but not unbearable. This one was her new least favorite symptom of pregnancy.

“You nervous about today?” He whispered, grabbing her hands with his own and threading their fingers together.

Y/n let out a huff of air, the action sending goosebumps across Jensen’s skin. Of course, he had picked up on her anxiety. “Yeah, and excited. I don’t know this kind of makes it all real, you know?”

“I do.” He pulled her hand up and kissed the back of her knuckles before releasing her. He turned around in her arms to lean in and press his lips against hers. Y/n leaned into her husband, taking full advantage of having him close to her.

Jensen pulled away, running his tongue over the swell of his lower lip and cocking his head. “Why do you taste like a bag of Warheads?”

“Oh, I woke up to my stomach rolling and the only thing I had within reach was the sour candies I bought last week. It actually helped a lot.” Y/n smiled sheepishly. If she thought about it long enough, she had eaten plenty of those candies to quell her stomach enough before she could even sit up in bed so it shouldn’t be surprising her husband could still taste them on her.

“I’m not gonna lie, I kind of like it.” He flashed her a grin that was all teeth before lunging to kiss her again. His wife laughed, shaking her head at all the boyish charm she had fallen in love with shining through so early in the morning. “Alright, I need to shower. Go, make yourself some tea, and try to eat something real for me.”

Y/n scrunched up her nose as he smiled at her. She didn’t want to eat, her already flimsy stomach on overdrive today, but for her husband, she would try, muttering an exaggerated ‘all right’ as he started the shower. The woman trudged her way back out to the bedroom, finishing getting dressed for the day in her comfiest sweats, before retreating to the kitchen to make herself some tea and buttered toast. It had been a week since she had tried toast, not willing to touch the stuff after the incident, so she hoped it was a safe bet.

As the kettle came to a boil and the toaster did its magic, Y/n looked out the large window onto their courtyard. The rising sun was casting elegant patterns against the white stucco of their house and dancing along the surface of the pool.

Y/n had scheduled the first appointment of the day with her doctor because she knew that she would be up early anyway. They still had time before they needed to leave their house, which Jensen would use to his advantage, taking extra time in the shower and getting dressed. Y/n on the other hand had already done that, so now she was trying to figure out something to occupy her mind until her husband made an appearance in the kitchen. When it seemed her breakfast was not going to make a reappearance, at least for now, she decided to put on some coffee for him and started the pan to make him an omelet.

Y/n was slipping the eggs onto a plate when Jensen made his appearance in the kitchen.

“You didn’t have to make me breakfast, I know how your stomach has been.” Jensen came up to her side and put his hand on the small of her back.

“I’m surprisingly okay this morning. Must be some sort of anxiety override.” She laughed as he kissed her cheek. Y/n grabbed him a fork as he turned to pour himself a cup of coffee. She slid the plate across the island as he sat down across from her.

“I was thinking,” Y/n spoke up from behind her mug of tea, “I mean, I know it’s still far too early, but I don’t want to find out the sex.”

“No?” Jensen quirked a brow at her, his mouth full of his breakfast, muffling the word on his tongue.

“There are few mysteries left in this world most days, and I just think this is one that would be exciting.”

“That’s fine with me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, you aren’t wrong. Who cares about our baby’s genitals anyway?”

Y/n pursed her lips and bit back the emotion already bubbling up in her, instead, allowing herself to feel excited for now, “Then it’s settled.”

Jensen looked up at her then, a smile cracking on his face. He shook his head at the giddiness over taking his wife. With everything that she had been through lately, it was refreshing to see her truly smile again. He had missed that smile.

Jensen cleaned up the mess from her making his breakfast and the two were out the door to the doctor. The office was located in St. David’s North Austin Medical Center, over thirty minutes northeast of their home, depending on traffic. Y/n had been seeing Dr. Garcia as her gynecologist for years now, and she loved the woman and the attention she paid her patients.

The couple made their way inside the familiar building, checking in at the desk and waiting in the lobby for them to be called back. When the nurse came from them, she took Y/n’s weight, vitals, and asked the usual questions before giving her a cup for a urine sample. Once Y/n returned from the bathroom the nurse instructed her to get undressed from the waist down and cover herself with the provided blanket.

The room was silent as they waited for the doctor, neither of them quite sure what to say at the moment. There were too many questions that could only be answered by the doctor. Y/n had her eyes trained on the machine to her left when a knock came from the door before it opened. Jensen squeezed her hand as Dr. Garcia came in, a smile on her face.

“Y/n, it has been a while since I’ve seen you in here,” She noted as she pulled up her chart on the computer.

“Uh, yeah, that’s kind of why we are here now.” Y/n admitted, a sheepish smile on her face.

“Well, the urine sample you provided us confirms pregnancy.” Dr. Garcia continued to examine her chart, hitting some buttons in silence. “Looks based on the information provided, you are about eight weeks along now, which will give us an expected due date of February twenty-third, all of which I will confirm after an ultrasound. Tell me a little bit about how you are feeling.”

Y/n went into detail about her symptoms the past few weeks and the doctor gave her basic information on necessary diet changes as well as a prescription for a prenatal vitamin. She also handed over pamphlets to get the couple started.

“I’m going to do a vaginal ultrasound since the fetus is still small, take a few pictures, listen to the heartbeat, and then we will get you guys out here.” Y/n nodded, laying back on the exam table as the doctor pulled up the ultrasound machine and pulled up the footrest. She helped Y/n put her feet up in position.

“You’ll feel pressure,” Dr. Garcia talked Y/n through what she was doing, though it didn’t make the action any less uncomfortable. Jensen moved to stand near her head, never letting go of his grip on her hand. Both of them watched the screen with bated breath as the doctor searched for what was growing inside her. “Ah, there we go,”

A black spot made its way onto the otherwise white screen, in the center a small white bean-shaped figure. “That’s it?” Jensen asked, leaning in for a closer look.

“That’s it, and the little blip in the center there is its heartbeat.” Dr. Garcia pointed on the screen before taking a snapshot and starting her measurements. She hit a few more buttons and the rhythmic whoosh of the baby’s heart could be heard like a siren in the small room.

Jensen let out a small huff of air before he brushed away the hairs on Y/n’s forehead and placed a kiss there, his lips lingering for a second against her skin. There was no point in trying to hold back the tears anymore. The longer she stared at the screen, the more the realization of the fact that she had a tiny human growing inside of her began to take hold in her brain. Sure, she had known for a few weeks now, but not being able to see it on her body, finally having visual and audio proof had broken the dam in her head.

“I’ll print this picture and be right back. You can get dressed now.” Dr. Garcia smiled at the equally teary-eyed couple. Y/n finally broke her gaze from the computer to look up at her husband, her hand coming up to cup his jaw.

“Oh, Jay,” She sighed as she wiped away the tear that had fallen down his cheek with her thumb.

“I can’t believe this is really happening,” He breathed out, staring at his beautiful wife below him. There had been nights he dreamed about starting a family, the woman always a blurry figure in his mind. Now, with the actual woman staring back at him, he felt like his chest might explode. He loved her more than his own life, and he didn’t think it was possible to love a person more, but seeing this ultrasound had changed all that. There was enough room in his heart for someone else, and that was his child.

****

Jensen dropped Y/n off at home before meeting Steve at the studio to work on their second album. His wife wanted to take a nap after not having gotten much sleep the night before, and he was more than happy to oblige her. If he was being honest, he would do anything for her right now as he continued to ride the high from their doctor’s appointment.

Y/n curled up on the couch with the television playing a soft jazz radio station and she fell asleep with ease. Most days, it felt like she slept better anywhere but her bed if her husband was not curled up next to her. The large king-sized mattress just felt too empty without him.

She woke up a few hours later, the sun now low in the sky. Y/n checked the time before cursing to herself and jumping out of the warm blanket she was curled up in. The trash would be coming their way soon, and in the excitement of the morning, she had forgotten to put it out. Slipping on a pair of sandals, she headed to the garage to grab the cans and drag them down the driveway. She pulled them to the end of the drive, making sure they would not be in her husband’s way when he returned.

Y/n pushed the recycling can to the side and something caught her eye. She squatted down, taking in the handful of used cigarette butts that were just barely visible against the stone of their driveway. A frown pursed her lips and she brushed the trash into the street before returning inside to find something to make for dinner.

Part 4: 12 Weeks Pregnant

Forevers: @22sarah08 @akshi8278 @anathewierdo @atc74 @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @callmekda @dawnie1988 @deanwanddamons @ellewritesfix05 @emoryhemsworth @flamencodiva @foxyjwls007 @hobby27 @janicho88 @jensengirl83 @katehuntington @lyarr24 @malfoysqueen14 @mrsjenniferwinchester @msmarvelouswinchester @polina-93 @sleepylunarwolf @stiles-stilinski-24-dylan @smol-and-grumpy @superfanficnatural @supraveng @talesmaniac89 @tranquility-or-chaos @waywardbeanie @winchest09

Happiness Continues: @ashleyrose0117 @austin-winchester67 @deanmonandnegansbitch @deans-baby-momma @death-unbecomes-you @dvnmbabe @harryhook-lover @hoboal87 @itsdesiree86 @let-me-luve-you @lunarmoon8 @onethirstyunicorn @parinarain @rebelemilu @smoothdogsgirl @spnfamily-j2 @stoneyggirl @squirrelnotsam @traceyaudette @winqhster @zpandaqueen

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mutilatedmadonna · 4 years

Text

A Heart To Heart Conversation (Not Literally Jesus Christ Where Did You Even Get That)

YOOOOOO made it with one hour to spare but ya girl still has her submission for the @secret-shifters gift exchange! This is for the lovely and talented @hiddendreamer67 who I was so fucking excited to write for! Also side note, I started a fic before this one but it was taking too long for my taste so I popped out this sucker instead. That being said like............why waste a perfectly good fic.............why not finish it eventually...........and still gift it to her since it’s techinically her prompt lmaoooo

I will go back and edit this post to include the AO3 link when I publish it :3c

Anyways

Warnings: Mild depictions of gore, fearplay; obviously, it’s all I know how to write whoops

Some people are great talkers, others are fantastic listeners. Some listen so well, in fact, they’re willing to destroy a government lab for you.

“Stop, please, I don’t want to hurt you!”

As if Derrick stood a fucking chance against the massive creature that was currently inching closer to him, crouched low to fit within the compound’s hallways. The alarm ringing was making his head pound, an unfortunate addition to his dizziness he’d been overcome with as soon as he saw the first body. Well, bodies. It had wiped out nearly every scientist and researcher in that sector as soon as it was freed from its cage, growling and hissing all the while as it dug its teeth and nails into the panicking humans. How it escaped at all was still a mystery and probably forever would be. As soon as it clawed its way through the protective lockdown doors into gen pop, all hell really broke loose. Guards tried and failed to take it down, hoping to wound the monster at best so that it could be recontained, but even as more backup arrived with heavier artillery, they never stood a chance. It was fast, it was strong, it was pissed, and it seemed to have a taste for blood and bones.

He didn’t know if it had any sort of plan beyond escaping the observational cage it had been trapped in for years, seemingly going into halls and sectors at random to slaughter the hapless scientists seeking refuge. The only reason Derrick had survived this long was simply because he ran and he continued to run. There was no use trying to hide, it was too good at tracking, so instead he did his damnedest to stay ahead of it. It had been working pretty well until he was stopped by the door at the last hall, a dead end to safety potentially. The only problem being his fucking keycard wasn’t high enough clearance to open it. He could hear it getting closer, hear the screams and crunch of bodies and deep growls that echoed all around. His breathing became more ragged the louder the sounds grew, knowing it was just one final turn away from being at the far end of the hall with a straight shot right to Derrick. No, no, no, he didn’t want to die like this. Not at the hands of this beast, not at the hands of...shit, what he thought was almost his friend.

It was his job to observe the creature in its confinement at night and take excruciating notes about every sigh and twitch it might make. It was truly as boring as it sounded, especially when the creature was awake a majority of his shift but only laid on the floor, quiet and still. It looked depressed and Derrick didn’t blame it. It had long since been locked away before he had even started at the organization, subjected to trials and tests day in and day out for hours so that the scientists could jot down these amazing discoveries. He had no idea what they planned on doing with all this data they were collecting given that this whole place was top secret, the creature certainly never meant to see the light of day. Or rather, people were never meant to see the creature. It’d cause mass hysteria. So, one evening, a few hours into the terribly dull silence he started talking aloud. Not to anyone in particular and not about anything exciting, just idle chit chat with the wall, really.

He never expected the creature to perk up at the sound of his voice, eyeing him curiously as he continued on. He certainly never expected to turn his head back towards the massive bay window to see it sitting much closer than before. Still watching him with wide, yellow eyes and tilting its head when he quickly shut his mouth. It had never moved so close before, hell it never even showed interest in him before beyond a few glances when he’d first enter the small overhanging room. At the same time, it didn’t appear aggressive or annoyed with his mindless ramblings. In fact, when he had stayed quiet for a minute during their staring contest, it chirped at him. Like it was...encouraging him to talk again. So he did, nervously at first before getting back into the flow of whatever random thought he had at the moment. And every time the creature would just sit and listen, its full attention on Derrick, with the occasional dozing off in the midst of his longer topics. He wasn’t sure how much it actually understood him. After all, it never listened to any directions it was given during another trial, but then again that could have just been out of spite and defiance. It didn’t speak English to his knowledge as it had never once given him a reply, but that didn’t mean it didn’t know it.

It never really responded, but there were quite a few times it would react to whatever he was saying. He theorized it was basing most of its assumptions off of whatever emotion he was portraying in his speeches. When he was visibly upset about some incident with Travis down in aquatics, it would whine. When he was excited about some great news he was dying to share with someone, it would chirp. When he was exhausted for one reason or another, unable to keep his eyes open or his stories coherent, it would purr. Almost as if it was trying to lull him to sleep, which it succeeded in every time with its soft white noise. If he were to be honest, he genuinely looked forward to his evening shift just about every day. Derrick could get so much shit out of his head and off his chest without having to worry about what the creature would think about him later. Maybe this was just a trick of the mind, but...it almost seemed just as happy to see him as soon as he would appear in that bay window, immediately twitching its ears up and moving closer.

Clearly, the mutual bond was not reciprocated.

Stupid, stupid, stupid, why the fuck would the creature like him? He was just another human that stared at him for science and soon enough he’d be just another human ground under its palm until his organs burst. Perhaps it just liked hearing the sound of his voice, anything being better than the silence it was constantly surrounded in, or maybe it had always been sizing him up for a snack. He had never written any of these emotional reactions down. He didn’t...well, it was hard to put in the right words, but he just didn’t want his superiors to have that knowledge that could understand feelings for the most part. That it appeared to like him. That it could be docile. Almost like he was trying to protect it from more severe and psychological tests they would surely run. He wondered if things would be different if he actually did report his findings, like if they could have prevented whatever triggered its rage strong enough to rip down doors and walls.

It was creeping closer now, claws clicking along the concrete floor. It was absolutely soaked in blood, especially around its mouth and hands. The way its tail jerked side to side reminded him of an irritated cat, which he didn’t take as a good sign. It wasn’t like Derrick actually had something to protect himself with like he so claimed. His bluff was called in an instant and it made a throaty rumble in response to his threat. It had been difficult to see at a distance with the flashing, red light acting almost as a cheap strobe, but now that it was only a few yards away, he could very clearly tell there was something hanging from its mouth. Something large and dripping and red and oh Christ it was a body. He hoped the poor bastard wasn’t alive anymore for mercy’s sake, firmly clamped between its jaws and impaled on its fangs. Was that a sign of things to come for him? He pressed as much as he could against the lock door in a vain attempt to somehow phase through to the other side and reach safety. With no such luck, he slid down to sit on the floor instead and covered his head with his arms curling in tightly on himself. He was shaking something terrible and tears still managed to find a way to escape his shut eyes. This was never how he imagined he’d meet his end, but either way he didn’t want to see it coming. Maybe if it did like him just a smidge, it would grant him a quick and painless death. He doubted it, though. It sounded like it enjoyed the struggles of its prey far too much.

Derrick could tell when it was hovering right above him. Its shadow engulfed him, blood dripped steadily into a puddle in front of him, spreading out across the floor until it actually touched his shoes. Fuck, he couldn’t help the sob that escaped him. He was scared. Strangely enough, it didn’t...do anything to him as seconds ticked by agonizingly slow. Staring at him, he presumed? Just how it would when there was a safety window between them. Something heavy landed in front of him with a disgusting squish, splattering more blood onto him. When the silence stretched on again, he hesitantly cracked open an eye to see what was supposedly laying at his feet and immediately wished he didn’t.

It was fucking Travis. Or what was left of him, anyways, torn to shreds and missing a few vital chunks from his body. Derrick wanted to throw up, but his throat was already choked up with more panicked cries. He looked away from the corpse, not wanting to take in anymore of the gory details and instead looked at the face of the creature. It didn’t look upset in the slightest, not like how angered it had been dismembering every other unlucky human in its path. Instead, it just stared back at him with those same wide, yellow eyes, tilting its head at Derrick’s lack of reaction. It leaned down to nudge the body closer to him with its nose, pushing it against his legs and rumbling curiously. No, no, no, get it off, get it off!

“S-stop! I don’t fucking w-want it!” He cried, kicking his legs out to shove the remains away from him. What was he supposed to do with it anyways!? Why was it showing off its latest kill, like it was seeking his approval, like it--

...like it did it for him.

The night before last, he and Travis got into it again in the break room. He was already pissed about being transferred to the division the creature was in and leaving his previous work behind. It could have been because Derrick happened to be the only one there or because he was one of the younger hires, the asshole decided to take his frustration out on him instead. Snide comments turned into full on insults and all Derrick wanted was some goddamn coffee before he clocked out. Waiting for the machine to finish brewing wasn’t worth it at this point, he could pick up a cup somewhere else on the way home. He tried to leave, but Travis blocked the doorway and he, not being in the fucking mood, tried to shoulder past him instead. It was very much not appreciated as the next thing he knew he was being pinned against the wall, the lapels of his coat clenched in his fist. He was absolutely ready to throw hands with this guy before he backed off suddenly, another coworker entering the break room with a cheery greeting and total obliviousness.

Maybe he should have told his superiors about the incident, but he chose instead to vent about it to the creature the next night. As soon as he mentioned when it got physical, its ears flatten back and it growled, though Derrick was too consumed by his own emotions to really care about its apparent threat display. After that was when it had clawed its way to freedom and started its rampage. That...that couldn’t have been what set it off though, right? There had to be other catalysts surely. However, it didn’t change the fact how eagerly it was presenting the mauled corpse of his aggressor, almost as if to say look! For you!

Did that mean...it really did understand him? It understood enough that Travis had tried to attack him and he was not his biggest fan right now. He had been really worked up during that little rant, too, probably making it sound worse than it actually was. Either way, it didn’t like that and took matters into its own hands. Or, mouth rather. This must be its interpretation of protecting him, killing the threat before it could strike again. Good thing he wasn’t one to usually bad mouth coworkers or the creature possibly could have had its massacre sparked by Derrick being mildly annoyed that Sarah always forgot to clean out the coffee filter when she was done.

The creature looked at the body as it was kicked back towards it, whining slightly. Was it upset that he didn’t accept its gracious tribute? That wouldn’t start another fit of anger, would it? He thought it just might when he scoot forward those remaining few injuries to press its face against Derrick’s trembling body. Its bloody mouth transferred an unfortunate amount of gore onto his clothing, but he had other things to worry about, like how close its fucking mouth full of fangs was to his more important organs. The nose buried into his chest rubbed gently, trailing up his neck and to the side of his head. Purrs rumbled with each quiet breath, taking care not to accidentally deafen him. He still cried out when the creature invaded his personal space, though he didn’t have much room to struggle as he was pinned between the door and the face. He whimpered regardless, trying to turn his head to avoid being nuzzled and ultimately failing.

If he thought the impromptu cuddling was bad, he was in for a worse shock when the creature pulled back just a hair, foolishly thinking that it finally had its fill of smelling him or scenting him or what the fuck ever. Of course it wouldn’t be that easy, not when a black tongue darted out from smiling lips to lick him from his stomach to the crown of his head in one, quick swipe. Now that made him actually scream out some sort of pathetic, strangled sound, squirming about as he was lapped again and again and again.

“N-no, don’t, p-please!” He begged uselessly, “D-don’t kill m-me, please, p-please, don’t e-eat me!”

Much to his surprise, the creature actually pulled away from him after that last remark, tilting its head questioningly again. While Derrick was in the middle of his panic attack, doing his damnedest to keep his cries from becoming too harsh, it crossed its arms and rested its head on them, watching as he tried to collect himself to no avail. When it seemed like he was starting to slip deeper into his episode, it started to purr. Quiet and soft, a nice noise to help drown out that increasingly annoying siren. And the worst part was that he really was actually starting to calm down. Not that he liked being so scared he couldn’t breathe, but it was the sheer fact that it was the creature bringing him comfort when it was the one who terrified him in the first place. His sobs quieted down after a few minutes and when they were ragged breaths instead, it started to chitter. Little chirps and purrs and throaty noises he could only assume were directed at him since that’s where it was staring so intently, though the sounds meant nothing to him. Was that how it felt when he used to talk to it for hours on end?

Was it trying to talk to him to soothe him, because him talking to it made it feel relaxed?

He supposed their time together was a much needed break from being poked and prodded and tested and it started to associate Derrick with that mini luxury. The talking probably gave it a sense of company considering he had no fucking clue if and where other members of its species resided. Maybe this friendship wasn’t as one sided as he thought. Maybe it cared so much about the stupid little human that would blather his entire shift that it was willing to rip the facility inside out just to get rid of his bully. One by one his muscles started to uncoil their tension until he was sagging against the door. His breathing was still labored, but he could at least get a steady breath through his nose rather than his gasping mouth. A minute tremor in his hands was all that was left of his previous quivering and his headache was now replaced with a cloudy exhaustion. The creature was still making its imitation noises, only tapering off when Derrick managed to raise his head up and look at it.

“You won’t hurt me...will you?” His voice was so small and weak, it was a good thing the creature had fairly strong hearing.

It responded by bumping its nose into his chest again, smiling all the while. Affection. It liked him. Hesitantly, he raised a hand and gingerly placed it on the creature’s cheek, giving it a tiny pat.

“...you...you know we’re fucked when the army comes...right?” They were a last resort when all other failsafes went south and had yet to be deactivated. It wasn’t their job to find and help survivors, it was their job to make sure nothing about this event was leaked into the public. Be it the experiment itself or scientists who could potentially blackmail the directors.

It shifted to push itself back into a crouched position, lowering towards him with its mouth open. He flinched and turned away which seemed to be exactly what it wanted, clamping down on the back of his shirt and jacket and narrowly missing giving his back a nasty scrape. Derrick all but squeaked in surprise when he felt himself be lifted up, dangling a few dozen feet in the air. It was like he had the same POV as the creature, watching its hands paw at the locked door until claws were able to scratch through the metal in large gouges. Wiring and mechanics were exposed as a result and with a little more tearing and pulling, it opened the entry wide enough for it to slip through, Derrick in tow. Huh. Guess keycards we’re always a necessity.

He hadn’t the faintest idea where they were headed, but it seemed like the creature had a general sense of direction and so far it was taking the correct route to the surface, to outside. For the moment, he didn’t have a single thing to say and simply let himself sway with the creature’s gait. Its intentions with him after they escaped into the world above were pretty vague at best, but he couldn’t really find the energy to care right now. As long as the military hadn’t beaten them to the exit, they’d be fine.

They could talk later about their really unconventional future later.

#secret shifters 2020 #g/t #gaint/tiny #fearplay #macro/micro #g/t fearplay #my fics #oh my god i hope you like it #im sorry if the paragraphs are kind clunky???#google docs and tumblr and ao3 all format them differently otz #also my beta is asleep so guess what hasn't been proofread because this girl has no reading comprehension #MEEEEEEEEE #but also like for real i hope you like it #and if not #i give you permission to curse me

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the-sympathetic-villain · 4 years

Text

The Stowaway’s Heart - Chapter 5

AO3 | Previous | Next | Masterpost

Description: Virgil is rescued by selkies after being abandoned at sea and brought back to their pod to recover. Virgil’s poor, gay heart may just explode from how attractive they all are.

Word Count: 4615

Chapter Warnings: Play fighting, Sexual Tension/Innuendo (Mostly just heavy handed flirting), Overstimulation, Anxiety, Embarrassment, Swearing (Let me know if I need to add anything!)

Virgil curled comfortably into himself as he gently woke from his long sleep. He couldn’t remember the last time he'd slept so peacefully. Gently stretching his arm out, he hummed with pleasure at the soft blankets beneath him. He ran his finger across the silky, smooth fabric enjoying the way his hand glided across the top of the bed.

Maybe, I'll even lighten the dark circles under my eyes.

Virgil snorted to himself.

Unlikely.

One good night’s sleep wasn't likely to make a dent in his years of sleep deprivation, but one could hope it may lighten it's affect. He gently rolled forward on to his stomach, stretching hi arm out over the edge of the bed. His mind drifted as sleep pulled at his body. Exhaustion threatened to claim him once more when he felt an arm wrap tighter around his waist.

Wait.

Adrenaline jolted him awake and his eyes shot open. He forced himself to move slowly, carefully tilting his head to look over his shoulder. The sight of Logan’s golden, brown hair buried in his shoulder eased his escalating anxiety. His relief was short-lived as confusion settled over him. Brow furrowed, he stared back at Logan trying to remember how he'd come to be here only to up blank. His gaze drifted down, locking on to the pelt draped over Logan's shoulders. The soft fur covered most of Logan’s upper body and the edges extended over Virgil’s side, draped over where Logan’s arm wrapped tightly around his waist.

That’s why I slept so well.

He tried to swallow down his guilt, but it seemed to wedge in his throat. The memories of the evening before came rushing back. Images of Logan’s terrified expression flashed through his mind as regret burned the images into his mind Sucking in a deep breath, he squirmed in in Logan’s arms, trying to wedge himself out of Logan’s tight grip.

I can’t do this.

I can't hurt him—

“What are you doing?”

His panicked thoughts were quickly interrupted by Logan's tired voice behind him. Virgil gasped in surprise at Logan's voice. His melodic voice was deeper than usual as he woke from slumber. The sultry sound sent shivers up the back of his neck and he barely managed to mutter a response.

“Escaping.”

Silence hung between them for a moment as Virgil continued to squirm in Logan’s grip. After a long moment, Logan’s lazy voice came again. “And where, pray-tell, do you plan to escape to?”

“The ground seems like the place to be right now.”

“Why is that, love?”

Virgil gritted his teeth and his chest ached with emptiness. “Because—because I can't hurt you there.”

“Ah,” The soft exclamation gave Virgil pause. He heard sadness in Logan’s voice and guilt welled in his chest. “So, dear one. Your hypothesis is that by getting to the ground, you will avoid hurting me?”

“Yes.” Logan shifted next too him and Virgil felt the edges of his pelt brush against the skin on his arms. “I can't do that again—”

“And you’re sure this hypothesis is the one you wish to test?”

“Yes.”

“Very well, Virgil.”

Virgil squeaked as Logan lifted his arm from Virgil’s waist and the momentum of his squirming sent him tumbling forward over the edge of the bed. He landed with a groan on the stone floor below.

“What the h—”

“I think your theory is null, love.” Logan leaned over the edge of the bed with a smug smile. “Besides being slightly more entertained, I do not feel any different than before.”

Virgil groaned as he sat up, scowling at his supposed soulmate. “You’re a jerk, Logan.”

“Perhaps,” Logan crossed his arms on the edge of the bed, leaning his chin down on top of his arms with a sickeningly innocent smile. “but I think that makes us even.”

Virgil looked up at him with a confused expression. “Even?”

“You feel guilty for grabbing my pelt without express permission,” Logan chuckled smugly. “and I dropped you off the side of the bed. I believe that to be fair recompense for your trespasses, Virgil.”

Virgil straightened nervously, hanging his head. “I think what I did was worse, Lo.”

“What you did was purely accidental and you quickly rectified your mistake.” Logan’s eye flashed devilishly down at him. “What I did was intentional and I have no intention of apologizing, therefore my actions are at least equally reprehensible, if not more so than yours.”

Cocky bastard.

Virgil raised an eyebrow at him. “Is this your way of trying to make me feel better?”

“Is it working?”

“Unfortunately.” Virgil smirked up at him from the ground, before softening his tone. “You’re really not upset about what happened?”

“Not in the slightest, love.” Logan smiled down at him from the bed. “Now, will you please join me up here again?”

“Most men at least offer to buy me dinner before asking me to jump into bed with them.” Virgil glanced up at him with a challenge in his eyes.

The smile that spread across Logan’s face sent chills down up his spine. He nearly squealed as Logan leaped gracefully off the bed a strutted towards him. He scrambled back a few feet before his hand slipped and he landed on his back.

Fuck.

Logan's grin widened as he slowed his approach. Virgil gulped as Logan kneeled next to him. Before Virgil could even process what happening, Logan leaned a hand on each of his elbows, effectively pinning him to the ground. Virgil squirmed uselessly against Logan's weight, freezing as he leaned over him. Logan breathed on his neck with a teasing whisper.

“Oh, honey,” Logan chuckled as Virgil’s breath became ragged beneath him. “You are going to have to work much harder than that if you want to fluster me.”

“You motherf—” Virgil growled as Logan pulled away.

“Now, now, Virgil.” Logan chided, biting his lip as he teasingly raised an eyebrow at him. “You'll have to learn to watch that mouth, if you want to stay. I won't have you teaching Patton any new swear words.”

“S-stay?” Virgil pushed himself upright.

“That is what you want.” Logan extended a hand down to him. “Right, Virgil?”

Virgil looked up at him in confusion. “But Roman saw me take your pelt—”

“He also saw you give it back, love,” Logan held his hand out expectedly until Virgil finally reached up and Logan grasped him. He pulled Virgil to his feet in one swift motion. “He has agreed to allow you a place here, Virgil.”

Virgil eyed him tentatively before giving in to Logan’s persuasiveness. “What do I have to do?”

Logan’s usually icy gaze burned with determination. “You simply have to be willing to learn about our way of life and be capable of coming into contact with our pelts without being overwhelmed.”

“Logan—” Virgil eyes widened at the suggestion and he shrunk back, leaning back against the wall. “I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

“No one is getting hurt, love,” Logan frowned as Virgil hung his head, avoiding eye contact. He stepped toward Virgil with a serious stare. “including you.”

“I know—” Virgil blushed, looking nervous.

“Virgil, look at me.”

Virgil blinked slowly. His muscles ached with tension as he hesitantly looked up at Logan. He paused, stunned by the soft concern in Logan’s eyes.

“I am sorry about the fear and guilt I caused you. My actions were negligent and you suffered as direct result of them.” Virgil opened his mouth to protest, but Logan quickly held up a finger to silence him. Once Virgil settled back, Logan smiled gently down at him. “I knew the temptation of what I was holding so close to you, Virgil. I scared you far more than you scared me and for that, I apologize.”

Virgil stared up at him, mouth agape as he struggled to find his words. “I don't know, Logan.”

“Virgil, come here.” Logan gently guided him back to the bed and dragged Virgil down to sit with him. He pulled his pelt from off his shoulders, hushing Virgil as he squirmed uncomfortably in front of him. “Do not stress, dear one. I do not expect you to touch it until you are comfortable doing so. You set the pace for what happens. Okay?”

Virgil hesitated for a moment before reluctantly nodding.

Logan smiled as Virgil seemed to relax slightly, staring down at the spotted fur in his hands. “Contrary to most human's knowledge, a selkie’s pelt is much more than a tool for us to be able to change forms at will. My pelt is a part of me as much my body or my mind.”

Virgil nodded along nervously. His hands instinctively clenched around the fabric of his pants to keep them from wandering.

“Part of my soul resides in my pelt, Virgil.” Logan sighed tiredly. “Without it, I am incomplete. When it has been taken by force, I was hardly present in my own body.”

“Isn't that more of a reason for me not to touch it?” Virgil’s voice was breathless with defeat as he turned his head up to look at Logan.

“No,” Virgil’s whisper had caught Logan off guard, but he kept his expression firm. “I trust you, love, and that makes all the difference.”

Virgil stared at him blankly. “How?”

“My emotions have a huge impact on how the pelt calls to me.” Logan frowned, biting his lip. “Earlier, when you picked up my pelt, I panicked.”

“I'm sorry—”

“Your apology has already been accepted,” Logan smiled weakly at him. “and it is not your fault my reaction was so strong. I have—I have had my pelt stolen before, Virgil, and simply the idea of it happening again triggered an unfortunate response.”

Virgil’s heart broke as he watched Logan shift anxiously in front of him. He slowly unclenched his fist and reached a hand out to rest on Logan’s leg, careful not to even brush the pelt in Logan’s hands. His heart fluttered warmly as Logan smiled at him appreciatively.

“I am sure I will share more of the details with you at some point,” Logan paused, looking up at Virgil. “I was scared and my pelt could sense that I had not given it to you willingly, so it called to me. My willpower had begun to drain away and I would have had no choice but to have followed your orders should you have given one.”

“I wouldn't have—” Virgil’s hand instinctively tensed on Logan’s leg.

“I know, Virgil.” Logan smiled at him. “You see, a selkie’s pelt is sensitive to intention, even more so to yours because our souls share a connection. You told me to take my pelt from you—”

“I—” Virgil sucked in a breath and pulled his hand back like he'd been slapped. His voice was broken as he managed a small whisper. “I did give you an order—"

“No, love. You never ordered me to do anything.” Virgil tried to move away, but Logan quickly set aside his pelt and gently grabbed Virgil’s wrist. Virgil froze, clenching his eyes shut with guilt. “Virgil, the second those words left your mouth, the trance was broken and it should not have been.”

Virgil paused, staring down at Logan’s hand around his wrist.

“My trance should not have broken until my pelt was back in my hands,” Logan leaned forward, gently using a curled finger lift Virgil’s chin up to look at him. “but even in your panic, you couldn’t muster the intent to force me to relieve your fear.”

“I—” Virgil started to pull back, but Logan moved his hand to his cheek and Virgil stopped in his tracks.

“Virgil, I trust you.”

Virgil turned a hesitant look up at Logan and his eyes darkened with guilt. “I don't want to take the risk of hurting you, Lo.”

Logan’s smile softened and he let his hand slip from Virgil’s wrist to his hand. “Would you take the risk to make my life better?”

“What?”

Logan smiled. “I want to show you my home and I want you to meet the other members of my pod. I cannot truly share my life with you if you are confined here, love.”

Virgil looked up and down at him with reluctance in his eyes before sighing dramatically. “Tell me what to do.”

Smiling patiently, Logan dropped his hand and reached his pelt, sliding it over his lap. “Hold out your hands, Virgil."

Virgil eyed him nervously for a moment before extending his hands out in front of him. The dirt on his fingers made him cringe in embarrassment but Logan seemed unaware as he lifted the pelt to hand it over to him.

Logan held the fur gently above Virgil’s hands with an excited grin. “My pelt is a living part of me and shares the soul connection I have with you. I should warn you that while this should not be overwhelming like last time, but it still may be intense for you.”

Virgil nodded nervously, closing his eyes as the pelt was lowered into his hands. He flinched as the soft fur came into contact with his hands, shooting pulses radiating through his body like lightning in the sky. He gasped, feeling a sense of comfort wash over him. Logan grasped his hands underneath the pelt, grounding him.

Suddenly, his mind felt clearer than it had in years. Nervousness gave way to peace as the effects of years of hypervigilance melted away. He glanced up at Logan only to see him staring at him an intensity he finally felt he could match. An uncharacteristic confidence flared in his stomach and he suddenly leaned forward, dropping his hands from the pelt.

He leaned forward, his lips stifled the surprised squeak that escaped Logan’s mouth as he toppled backwards. The corner of his lips twitched into a smile as he pinned Logan’s shoulders down to the bed. As his initial shock faded, Logan's tension ease his soft lips kissed him back. After a moment, he gently pulled back.

Virgil smirked down at him. “You're not so hard to fluster.”

Logan seemed to ponder for a moment before sighing with exaggerated disinterest. His eyes gleamed playfully. “Not so bad, love, but do not think you have bested me. You are still playing out of your league.”

“What?!” Virgil stared down at him with shock in his eyes. “You’re still blushing. You don't get to claim the upper hand here.”

“Would you be willing to make a wager on that?”

Irritation burned in Virgil’s stomach as he stared down at Logan's relaxed smile. Riding the wave of confidence from Logan’s pelt, he smirked down at the egotistical selkie. “What kind of bet are we talking?”

“If I cannot turn the tables on you by the time you count to thirty, I will concede to your claim of having the upper hand and admit your superiority.”

Virgil looked down at him suspiciously. “And if I lose?”

“Seeing you turn red and flustered is prize enough for me.”

“You’re a cocky bastard.”

“Do we have a deal?”

Virgil flexed his fingers on Logan’s shoulders. “Do I have to let you up?”

Infuriatingly, Logan closed his eyes and shrugged. “I think it will be more satisfying if you do not release me, but it is up to you.”

Virgil stared down at him suspiciously for a long time. “Fine, deal.”

Logan was silent for a moment and Virgil’s skin crawled with anticipation as Logan didn’t even open his eyes. His grip slackened as he watched Logan nervously.

“When does your time start?”

“I have twenty-one seconds left.”

Virgil’s muscles tensed in confusion. “You’re not doing anything.”

“I do not require the full thirty seconds.” Logan smiled smugly.

“What are you—” Adrenaline shot through Virgil’s body as an evil smile curled on Logan’s lips. He tensed, nearly drawing back before a few calm words slipped from Logan’s mouth.

“Remus, dear. I am so glad you could join us.”

Virgil smiled. “Nice try, but I'm not falling for th—"

“Oh, Lolo. If you were going to put on a show, you could have at least given me a better view.”

Virgil’s blood froze.

Fuck.

He spun around off of Logan, cheeks burning as his eyes locked on the man leaning against the bars across the room. The short man twirled his dark mustache staring at him with a dangerous smile. Virgil gulped, scooting back.

Fuck me.

The man was dripping wet, wearing nothing but a pair of trousers and a dark brown pelt around his shoulders. His body was tan and Virgil could see his toned muscles from all the way from all the way across the room. Virgil pulled the hood of his cloak over his head to hide the shame on his cheeks. Logan curled upright, turning to face Virgil. He reached a hand to Virgil’s cheek. The coolness of his fingertips sent shivers down his body and he whimpered.

“I think I won, love,” Logan smiled gently. “Do you still want to meet him?”

Virgil looked up at him, hands unclenching from his hood. “It's a little late to back out now.”

“You always have a choice, Virgil.” Logan whispered. “I failed to give you proper notice. There is no shame in not being ready.”

“Notice would have been nice.”

“I intended to warn you, but I did not anticipate him arriving so soon.” Logan’s thumb brushed lightly across his cheek.

“Awww, Logan,” Remus drawled dramatically. “You called for me. Open the door.”

“I may have called for you, but I expected you to have the common sense to dress yourself before coming.” Virgil watched as Logan rolled his eyes with a smirk. “As far as I am concerned, you deserve to wait.”

“You could have been in danger, Lolo.” Remus whined pitifully.

Virgil curiously leaned around Logan’s shoulder to catch a glance at the man lazily pouting at them between the metal bars. He shrunk back as the man wiggled his eyebrows suggestively at him. His heart pounded in his chest and he forced himself to take deep breaths.

Logan seemed unfazed. “Your feigned innocence falls flat, Re. You did this on purpose.”

Remus giggled. “I wanted to make an authentic impression.”

Logan rolled his eyes before turning back to Virgil’s nervous expression. “I will send him away, Virgil. This can wait until your ready.”

Remus groaned dramatically as Logan turned to move towards the wall of bars.

“Logan…” Virgil whispered quietly. “It's okay.”

Logan turned back with a quizzical glance. “What do you mean, Virgil?”

“You can let him in, Lo.” Virgil smiled nervously. “I want to meet him.”

“You are sure?” Logan asked patiently. “There is no pressure to do this today.”

“I'm sure, Logan.”

Logan glanced over a Remus, noticing the smugly satisfied grin on his face and turned a devilish smile back to Virgil. “Still, I quite enjoy the thought of making him wait.”

“Lolo…” Remus whined dramatically.

Virgil chuckled, matching Logan’s evil grin. “Well, I wouldn’t dream of ruining your fun.”

“Good.” Logan made to move back to the bed, before Remus’ groan interrupted him.

“Oh, come on,” Remus cooed from the bars. “Don't tease me.”

Plopping down on the bed, Logan sprawled himself out comfortably, laying his head in Virgil’s lap. “You attempted to fluster our poor guest. You asked for this, Re.”

“You're being a bit hypocritical. Aren't you, Lolo?” Remus called over, his voice taking on an edge of sarcasm. “From what you've told me, you've done nothing but tease your ‘poor guest'.”

Virgil had to stop himself from giggling at the strange selkie's sarcastic air quotes, but he quickly looked away as he locked eyes with the Remus, who was now raising an eyebrow and smiling at him.

Logan didn't even open his eyes as he smirked. “You forget one thing, Re.”

“And what is that, Lolo?”

“I do what I want,” Logan dragged out the words, savoring the moment. “And no one can stop me.”

“Is that so?” Virgil looked up to see Remus was apparently unfazed by Logan's snark.

“Undoubtedly.”

“You know, Lolo. This was meant to be a different type of surprise, but Jan taught me a new trick.”

Logan tensed in his lap as Remus fell silent and Virgil looked down to see suspicion in his eyes. “What kind of trick, Re?”

Remus giggled and Virgil looked up at the sound of metal creaking. He looked up just in time to see the door swing open. “I can pick locks now, Lolo.”

Virgil flinched back as Logan rolled off his lap and only managed to catch a blur of skin as Remus rushed past him. He scrambled off the bed just in time not to get out of the way as Logan tried to evade Remus' grip.

Logan groaned as he protested. “You are soaking wet, Re.”

Remus giggled. “Well, you should have thought of that before you decided to be a jerk.”

“Virgil has to sleep here. You are aware of that, right?”

“I'm sure you’ll find a way of keeping him warm.”

Virgil nearly gasped out loud as they tumbled off the bed and onto the floor, but even that they seemed to do gracefully. He stared in awe at the men wrestling in front of him. Finally, Logan seemed to get a grip on Remus, holding him in a loose headlock as he pulled him to his feet.

“Now, cease.” Logan muttered. “Lest you make your bad first impression worse.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. He's enjoying watching.” Remus wiggled his eyebrows at Virgil knowingly. “Just look at the way he’s blushing.”

Virgil's heart felt like it stopped as Logan turned his gaze to him. Instinctively, he shrunk back even deeper into cloak, his cheeks burning.

Logan rolled his eyes, keeping his voice neutral even as he barely bothered to conceal the smirk on his lips. “Regardless, are you ready to behave yourself?”

“Never.” Remus giggled.

“Fine, we will be leaving then.” Logan said matter-of-factly before dragging Remus towards the door.

“Wait—” Remus babbled, squirming in Logan’s grip. “Wait—You win. Let me go, Lolo.”

“Are you going to be reasonable, if I let you go?”

“I'll be as amicable as a newborn baby—”

“Newborns are not—”

“Lolo, just let me go. I'll be good.” Remus squirmed more vehemently.

“Fine—” Logan rolled his eyes, releasing his grip on Remus.

Free of Logan’s grip, Remus lunged forward at Virgil, who startled back into the wall behind him. Logan rushed to grab him, nearly crashing into Remus as he abruptly stopped in front of Virgil.

Virgil nervously pressed his back into wall as Remus bowed dramatically in front of him. With a playful smirk, he extended a hand out to Virgil. “The name is Remus.”

Virgil anxiously looked between Remus and Logan who had straightened up behind him. He hesitantly reached out to take Remus' hand. “Virgil—"

“But first—” Remus yanked his hand away before Virgil could grab his hand.

Virgil glanced up at him and froze. A shiver crept up Virgil’s spine as all warmness disappeared from Remus' face and he sneered dangerously as he leaned in close to Virgil’s face.

“Let's be clear about something,” Remus’ melodic voice echoed hauntingly and Virgil's skin crawled with the urge to get further away. “If you hurt him, I will disembowel you and scatter all of your organs in the bay for the sharks to feed on. Got it?”

“Re—” Logan rested his forehead in his palm, shaking his head in exasperation.

Virgil turned his head from Logan, looking down at Remus with a serious expression. “I won't hurt him.”

“Good.” A smile twitched at the corner of Remus' and he laughed. He extended his hand out to Virgil once more as his dark demeanor disappeared, replaced by a genuine smile. “Welcome to the family, Virgil.”

Fuck, he's pretty.

Virgil forced himself not to stare as his damp, curls bounced along with his animated movements. His breath caught at the sight of his piercing emerald-green eyes and he couldn’t help but follow the water droplets as they trailed down Remus' body—

Fucking. Focus. Virgil.

You have a soulmate now.

“Th-thanks.” Virgil reached a hand out to Remus. Remus clasped his hand and he gasped. A jolt of tingling shot up his arm and his knees went weak. Remus dropped his hand and he leaned back against the wall, shaking.

Fuck.

Shit.

What the fuck.

“Well, I didn't see that coming.”

Virgil looked up at Remus' shocked voice. Virgil’s breath was rapid and uneven, but Remus just stared at him in confusion.

Logan stepped forward curiously, looking between them with wide eyes. “Re?”

Remus moved towards Logan, still staring intently at Virgil like he'd suddenly grown two heads. For the first time since they'd met, Remus seemed speechless.

Anxious with anticipation, Logan wrapped a hand around Remus' waist. “Remus, is he—”

“Yeah, he is.” Remus cut him off, sounding breathless.

Both of them turned to look at Virgil, who was now shaking with disbelief.

I don't have one soulmate.

I have two.

“Virgil?”

Virgil looked up at Logan’s voice, barely registering his name. His vision blurred as he tried to focus on Logan and Remus. His balance seemed to fail and he stumbled. The ground seemed to suddenly move closer but strong hands caught him before he made impact. He groaned as he was curled up and lifted away, breath stalling in his lungs.

Virgil finally sucked in breath as he was lowered onto to bed. Arms were still wrapped around him as he clumsily wiped away the tears trailing down his face. “I'm sorry—”

“Love, never apologize for having feelings.”

Logan’s voice in his ear relaxed him slightly. The cool touch of the hands around him grounded him and he felt himself calming as he listened to the breathing next to him. He flinched as a hand brushed his own, his skin tingling intensely. The hand pulled back and Virgil opened his eyes, blearily looking up at Remus' guilty expression.

“I'm sorry—”

Virgil shook his head, blindly reaching for Remus' hand. Once he managed to feel Remus' hand, he clasped it, holding on tightly, despite the intense feeling. He felt Remus relax as Virgil held his hand. After a moment, he leaned comfortably into Virgil’s side. The intense tingling abated as they curled up on the bed together. Virgil's heart swelled with gratitude as his new soulmates rested on each side of him.

“Are you okay now, love?”

Virgil smiled, looking up at Logan. “Never better, Lo.”

Logan stared down at him adoringly. “I guess there is little room for doubt that you belong here now.”

“He's staying, even if I have to fight Roman myself.” Remus nuzzled into the crook of his neck.

“I hardly think that will be necessary, Remus.” Logan sighed with a smile.

“Fine, I'll fight Roman for fun then.” Virgil cooed as Remus’ voice resonated against his shoulder. He closed his eyes, settling in comfortably.

“Rest now, dear one.” Logan purred, breathing into Virgil’s hair. “When you wake, Remus and I will help you grow accustomed to holding our pelts. Once you can handle that, the world is our for the taking.”

“And we'll take it all.” Remus whispered.

Virgil curled comfortably into their arms, nearly drifting to sleep instantly. He gently felt their hands in his as he sunk down between the two selkies. “Whatever you want, as long as I get to stay with you.”

“Forever, love.”

The Stowaway’s Heart Taglist:

@alias290 @lonelyanxiousbean @somehow-i-got-an-account @kieraelieson @evoodo123 @dndnerd1609 @lovesupernova25 @minninugget @ace-in-a-shopping-cart @trainwreckwithlimbs @i-apparently-exist @rachetssearch @twilight-trix @evelyn-nova @sluggerbot-2-5 @chronicallynervouschild @arsenicdragon @so-what-if-im-crazy @somehow-i-got-an-account @slutty-cinammon-roll @inferiorfilth @justanotherhumanstuff

#sanders sides #sanders sides fic #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides fanfic #ts logan #ts virgil #ts remus #analogical #intrulogical #intruanalogical #The Stowaway's Heart #villain writes

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hiswhiteknight · 4 years

Text

Fighting with Fire – Part 3

Summary: The Reader is friends with Erin Reagan, but absolutely hates one of her brother’s. After meeting Erin for a case, Reader meets Erin’s youngest brother. But due to her hatred of a certain Reagan, the Reader isn’t necessarily warm towards the youngest Reagan.

Pairing: Jamie Reagan X Fire Fighter Reader

Words: 1700

Warning: This chapter focuses around learning attack strategy, please be cautious if this can be difficult. I recommend watching Chelsea Kyann tutorials about self-defense. Also some cursing, eventual angst, eventual fluff

As much as it displeased you, it was nice to have a male volunteer. It was usually one of your brothers or one of the guys from the station. Usually they are pretty distracting for the ladies at first, but it was able to show them potential real-life scenarios. However, it did feel strange bossing a Reagan around. Eddie, Jamie, and a friend who was a fighting instructor for jujitsu named Chloe.

Chloe walked up to you, leaning in, “Well this is new, what a snack.”

You and her watched Eddie and Jamie chatted with a few regulars. You could tell it meant a lot to them both to build rapport with the community. It felt strange to not see a Reagan male not take up so much space and give off an ego, testosterone driven vibe. If his brother were in this space, he would show the woman he is a strong powerful male, who will protect and avenge their justice. Jamie vibe was a bit different and you couldn’t necessarily map it, which bothered the shit of you. Acknowledging Chloe’s statement, you made a vomiting sound in your mouth, “Get your mind out of the gutter.”

She looked at you strangely, straightening up and turning to look directly at you, “Something weird is going on.” She looked at you closer, Chloe had a psychology degree and loves to add her own analyses to things. Usually she only uses it to counselor some women after a bad trigger or if they want to open about a past trauma. Before she can pick your brain or poke you, you clap your hands heading towards the crew.

This caught Jamie’s reaction, as you ignored the mischievous look your friend is giving from behind you. He turned his body to face you, “What do you need boss?”

You shook you head, “Don’t call me that,” you point at him. You spend the time to give the group of women a greeting before directing instructions towards the pair, “So Eddie, I’d love for you to help pair women up and volunteer to be someone’s partner. Chloe usually floats because she is the true expert when it comes to fighting techniques.”

“Sounds great,” Eddie nodded.

Clearing your throat, you look at Jamie, “I don’t think I have to tell you, but most women in these classes had some bad experience with a man.” He nodded his head slightly, still listening, “I don’t let men come to this particular class to learn for a reason. Though usually a guy plays an especially important role in this class.”

Jamie looked excited, rubbing his hands together, “What is it?”

“My dummy,” you smirk. Eddie chuckled into her hand, trying to make it sound like a cough. You took a second to think about your feelings, a glow of satisfaction to be able to kick the crap of a Reagan and nervousness, though you couldn’t pin point why, “That’s not a problem is it?”

He shook his head, “Use me any way you need,” he tried not to smirk.

You look him up and down, looking unamused by his comment, “Stay hydrated, I don’t need you passing out,” you said walking away to prep your resources and workspace.

Eddie tapped him on the chest, “Real smooth Romeo.”

He looked down at her, before glancing back towards you, “I think I got a chance.”

Straightening up to look at him directly, she wore an amused look at her face, “That woman is going to eat you alive.”

You had all the women pair up and explained the boundaries and expectations of the class, like not pushing themselves and taking a break if they feel overwhelmed or exhausted. It’s a rousing speech about the realities of being a woman and how to be a community. You introduced your volunteers before instructing each of them to discuss their comfortability level with their partners, as well a little about themselves. This gave you time to look at Jamie to explain some of the movies and what he should do, “You got to make it real,” you say to him. “Don’t be gentle, don’t hold back, the best these women can learn is if they see what it’ll possibly look like in real life if it happens.”

“If I were to hold back, it would be because I know you can kick my ass,” he whispered down to you, “But I get your point.” He looked around to the women talking, “You did quite a thing here, I wish we had a program like this.”

You blinked a few times, looking taken back. You never anticipated hearing something nice from a Reagan, well at least a young Reagan, “Thank you.” You instructed the women to wrap it up to start the officially lesson.

Jamie noticed how you got flustered after his compliment. He decided to break whatever tension you were feeling, “Should we have like a safe word?”

You smirk, not looking at him, “Just tap out Reagan, give me a few taps.”

You hated to say it, but Jamie was a great asset. As you taught the class about getting attacked in different scenarios, from the front, the back, with a weapon, etc, he was patient with you tossing him around and hurting him in various ways. He and Eddie were able to add some insight from the police perspective. And he was extremely good at complimenting and empowering the woman. Honestly, outside of enjoying beating up on a Reagan, he was a great member of the team.

This was the last exercise of the day, where the attack gets them on the ground. This was the first time Jamie seemed hesitant, “Well let’s go dummy,” a few woman chuckle.

Taking a deep breath, Jamie gets on top of you and you start your instructions, like how to use your legs, how to protect your body, different ways to use your own weight as your weapon. Your favorite instruction dealt with using the attacker’s shirt as your weapon. It didn’t have to do with as much strength as it was strategy. Jamie rapidly tap at your waist, you let go and bounced up before instructing the pairs to try. Jamie finally caught his breath stepping up to you, “I wish Danny knew who scary you were.”

You let a laugh leave your mouth while watching some pairs. You give him one more smile before walking away to give some individual tips.

After some talking with some of the students and cleaning up, Chloe and Eddie were talking about the next lesson when Jamie approached you, “This was really great, I hope you keep me in mind to help even if I’m a Reagan.”

You look away from the brochures in your hands, “The jury is still out on you, but I’m getting a vibe you are different from your brothers.” You put rest of the stuff in your resource box, “Thank you for your help, you are always welcomed.” Jamie was about to say something, “But don’t think for a second I’m letting my guard down, this might be a ploy from Danny about getting in my head. I’ve got my eyes on you and him.”

He put up his hands defensively, “If that was ever a plan, I would never start something with you after what I learned today.”

You jabbed at him, “And that is just the tip of the iceberg there sparky, spread the word don’t mess with Y/N Y/L/N.”

Shaking his head, fighting this feeling on intrigue he has about you, “I will definitely spread the word of your power to all who can hear, mainly Danny.” You smirk holding your box, waving to Chloe as she headed out, “Look Eddie and I are grabbing a beer, would you want to join us?”

Eddie was casually looking at you both from the stairs. You were taken back for a second, “Oh, I’m sorry. I just got done working a 48-hour shift, I’m dead on my feet. But thank you, like for everything.”

“My pleasure, really and maybe next time,” he started to walk you towards the entrance, meeting up with Eddie, “You wouldn’t want to walk us to our car, would you,” he joked at you.

You genuinely laughed, shaking your head. You plopped your box in you back seat before looking at him. Eddie tried to stop her scoff of his response. He surprised you differently from any other Reagan including his sister and father, “I don’t believe that in necessary, I felt all that muscle you got underneath there,” you point towards his clothing. “Plus, you’ve got Eddie I know she saves you all the time from humiliation, attackers, etc.”

“She’s got that right,” she pointed at you, “Bye Y/N.”

Jamie started to walk backwards in the direction of Eddie, “I’ll see you later Y/N.”

“Take your time,” you smile back at him, “I’ve had my monthly fill of Reagan males.”

You got in your car, starting it up, and driving off. Something was different and you didn’t take the time to acknowledge your physical attraction to the younger Reagan. It was easy to distract your thoughts when teaching self-defense, but now all you could think about was Jamie’s body and how it felt around you.

Eddie teased Jamie some more about the interaction between the two of you, “Hey man, you’re making waves. This time she didn’t show her teeth and she acknowledged your assets,” she gestured to his body.

He rolled his eyes, “Shut up.” He drank some of his beer, “I’m not crazy right, you see the chemistry?”

“Oh no, you’re crazy,” she commented. “But I do like to watch you try to be charming and epically get torn apart by her,” she added.

He shook his head thinking about you, you had a good feeling and it had nothing to do with hate, “Whatever, I am charming.”

Eddie scoffed before getting distracted by a game on a tv.

Taglist: @screeching-student-unknown

#Jamie Reagan #jamie reagan imagine #jamie reagan x reader #Blue Bloods #blue bloods fanfiction #blue blood imagines #fanfiction

159 notes · View notes

dorki-c · 4 years

Text

The Three Cups: Cup of Caution

Characters: Villain Deku, (reader), Brief mention of Shigaraki, Kurogiri, and Toga!

Relationship: Villain Deku / Izuku Midoriya and Fem! (Reader).

Audience: 16+ ONLY please!

A/N: Two weeks and approximately 6 pages later- I bring to you the second cup: Cup of Caution. Thank you all for your support the past two weeks and the lovely comments, it really means a lot! I would be really thankful if everyone who read this would reblog and liked this!

But before anybody goes on and read this, PLEASE PLEASE TAKE CAUTION (No pun included) WHEN READING THIS. It handles some heavy things within the one-shot and I really don’t want anybody to be reminded of horrible experiences that they may have gone through. AS WELL AS! Please note that I’m not a health care professional or somebody who knows how to deal with first aid- so please do not use my one-shot as a correct and reliable source to deal with this situation!

(ALSO! COME REQUEST A PROMPT FOR MY VALENTINES WRITING EVENT! CLICK HERE FOR MORE INFO!)

TW: Gun use (only very briefly), Mention of Self-harm (only if you squint REALLY hard), blood and bleeding, Self-deprecating thoughts, mention of bullet removal, unprofessional medical procedures and cauterization, implied forced enclosure, mention of alcohol.

[IMPORTANT: I DO NOT ENCOURAGE ANY OF THE TRIGGER WARNINGS!]

[<-- Previous Part | Next Part -->]

The midst of every night always had its unknown secrets basking in the twilight. They writhed and crawled scantly across the surface of the two villains hides like insects ready to rip and chew apart delicate layers of flesh.

Darting left and right from advantage points, your observant pair of eyes stayed forever locked on the green-haired man (boy) behind the heavy-duty mask that carefully- though quite excellently- tightened around the back of your neck and head with approximately four, maybe five, click-in locks.

You didn’t know what this arranged ‘meeting’ was about, frankly you didn’t care (like always), though as each minute of the task (in your mind) was wasted by each and every mother fucking curse you plan to yell at Shigaraki when you arrive back at the base.

That crusty asshole decided it would be (unadulteratedly) hilarious to set you up to ‘guard’ his younger brother’s puny smug (handsome) ass which in turn meant staring by squatting down where your unshielded knees may scrape against the harsh concrete of the building you stood on top of.

Obsessively gripping the bland black pistol in the palm of your hand, your nerves screamed at you to relax to the cold polluted air that ran warm in the blood of whoever isn’t dead tonight. With the narrowing of your eyes darting from Deku to the three men standing in front of him with a small flat line seemingly narrowing to an expression of annoyance.

When are they going to finish? You wished you could have said that, but that’s not allowed. It will never be permitted.

Screaming little nuisances echo out protests to rebel again Deku- like the previous time before- though both you and the rest of the audience resting in their seats know not to do that, again. The fresh crescent moon wounds encircled around a singular wrist (covered by a glove) alerts the subconscious bully lurking in the midst at the front of this theatrical performance of life.

But (focusing on the task at hand) what was that man holding? Crouching downwards to get a better look, your body moved on its own accord when shit hit the fan. Invisible gusts aiding in your descent as a small glance to the side can confirm what happened before three bodies laid flat in the closed off alley.

Packing the pistol into a holster at the starting line of your boots, itty-bitty footsteps reached to her colleague, though her form was turned away from them. “Get up, we need to leave before the police get here.” What? How much of an asshole is his crush? “I can’t, you idiot.” Pivoting on her heel, she glanced downwards to see the source of the other villain’s problem.

Oh.

(And here (y/n) never thought black dress pants could turn red…)

With a leg shot to frigging bits, the frayed edges of the dress pants curled upward and attempted to soak up the liquid seeping out of his body, although it was in futile. Alongside that, (y/n) didn’t have any other cloth or rope or… something to stop the blood flow.

However, that was a failed observation on her part.

Glancing at her own self, she noted the blazer that covered only a bare minimum of her shoulders and back. (Oh well, it’s not like I can’t buy another one) Sighing softly, she could feel those all-too-familiar green (laser) eyes observing the slow languid movement of the female taking off her blazer, drooping down to his level and tapping the leg with such delicacy that Deku could’ve had a small crisis about how close (y/n) was.

“Open your mouth.” When he did so, a side of (y/n)’s arm was barged in the clamp that is his mouth.

“Bite down on my arm until I tell you to stop.” This is going to hurt like a bitch, although she didn’t mind pain (it’s a friend nowadays), where in a second she felt the contraction of what might be millions of miniscule sensory cells curse a wave of spiky pain erupt along the bridge of her forearm, the female made quick work of wrapping her blazer into a tight knot around the upper base of Deku’s bloodied leg that certainly is comparable to a two-way circuit of agony that flooded both of their bodies.

When ripping the arm from his canine teeth, only flinching as she did so (her favoured shirt was practically ruined with slobber), a blackened satin hand extended itself upwards and was met with a sweet cranberry red hand.

“Come on, we need to get you patched up.” Said (y/n), where all Deku could do was nod in agreement.

(Why did she want me to go with her?)

(What’s this feeling in my chest?)

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

Kicking the door with only her heel, the leaning weight of what could’ve been a dead man laid heavy on her spine.

Grimly being reminded of the injury he held accountable on his leg, she laid him down on the ragged and worn couch- the fabric was tough and stale (it always caused an uncomfortable rub against naked skin) with the seams of the couch allowing small uplifting specks of thread-, though, she should’ve thrown this heap of shit outside for some DIY freak to refurbish, but (y/n) at the moment doesn’t have the money to afford another couch.

So, she’ll do with this one. Plus, it’s a good couch for staying somewhat clean when your flooding blood out of your fragile body.

In the moment of time, her shoes and mask were thrown off and a new pair of gloves were hastily applied onto her hands.

“Wake up.” Pinching the poor boy’s arm, vibrant green eyes, that match spring grass sprouting from a thick layer of dirt, had burst open in surprise of the ‘prickly golden needle’ sensation, however, the plain white ceiling was unfamiliar to his presence.

Huffing at his slow reaction, although helping him sit up in the process, the soft groan of lethargy slips from the (pretty) boy’s lips to crash and burn the depths of (y/n) terrified mind (about having somebody who isn’t a female in her apartment).

“Damn,” Rasp and smug his voice was, if he wasn’t hurt with a leg injury, then you would’ve tortured him to the full extent of your vexation, “is this my treat for being alive?” You suppose you knew what his innuendo implied, considering you were sitting between his thighs, “What?” Asserted Deku as he observed your facial cues.

“I’m not sucking your goddamn dick, asshole.”

Oh.

(And here Deku thought he could get laid tonight.)

“I need to wrap your leg,” Holding up a roll of dressings for him to see, “and to do that, I need you to take off your trousers.”

“Well, you could always—” He notices one finger of your hand about to take off your purply-red gloves in a threatening motion, “—Okay! Okay! I’ll do it myself…” A pout was evident on his face, but he did as you asked (mostly because he was scared of your quirk).

A belt buckle jingled to the floor, “My offer still stands.” Then the ruined dress pants fell along with them.

“I don’t want your offer.”

Grabbing the disinfection solution and a cotton gauze, the female opened the pungent liquid and tipped it upside down to gather it on the gauze, “This is going to sting.” Affirmed (y/n), “I know, doll.” Deku only managed to hiss out a response as the onslaught of a headache started to run towards him.

They both treaded this situation carefully and cautiously

As you clean the dirt out and rid the chance of infection to happen, your eyes started to frantically inspect each of the wounds as they still leaked blood every time your index finger very softly pressed on the skin around the wounds.

They still bled after applying pressure.

Fuck.

“I have to remove the bullets.” The male’s face paled. “Give me a second, I need to get some things.” Deku saw her (rather sexy) form exit the living room and into one of the rooms (which he guesses to be her room) and then come out with a pillow, tweezers, and a brightly coloured (f/c) lighter. “What are…these for?” Those once bright green eyes gained a cloud of mistrust when narrowing at the objects, “The objects are for the bullet removal,” Staring horrified at her, she continued without paying mind to his facial expression, “I need to grab some plastic gloves and a rag from the kitchen, but after the procedure, I will need you to take a few pills.” (Y/n) wore a blank expression when announcing the news, but it further piqued his interest in this dark hour.

Was she scared? Afraid?

When noticing Deku’s lacklustre expression, (y/n) snapped her fingers at him, “Are you aware of any allergies to any brands or medication?” Shaking his head in response, the female left him alone for a few minutes before returning with the rest of the things.

“Let’s get started, shall we?”

(Deku swore he heard the soft chime of ‘I’m sorry’ behind the curtains of (y/n)’s sentence)

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

Waking up to a soft drag of curtains opening, the green haired villain only remembers the white adrenaline of a few slick objects being dragged out of squishy tensed skin where the only thing keeping him awake was the soft murmuring of “you’re doing good…” as smooth plastic painfully slid across the red hills of his cheeks that began to form rivers from the nearby reservoir uphill.

Alongside the unknowledgeable lull of his drowsy head, he saw the heavily wrapped leg and small patches of gauzes strapped further down his legs, with the ability to only whimper in an attempt to alert you that he was awake.

The small widening of your eyes as your body spun around to see his groggy eyes open to the shimmer of mornings gift: the sunrise.

Shuffling towards the bed and sitting on the side, (y/n) wore some sort of expression that the green-haired villain had never thought she knew how to express. “Holy shit,” Started Deku, “What is it?” (Y/n) added, “Your actually showing-- I might as well dare to say this—your showing emotion for once!” Exclaimed Deku as his eyes looked like they could light up a million galaxies in just a millisecond.

But the moment didn’t last, the luminously concerned expression that Deku had (stupidly) pointed out fell into the deepest depths of hell, then, the usual cold and icy exterior had taken the throne as the new ruler.

“Fuck off.” Snapped (y/n) before making haste out of the room. You left before he could utter another syllable.

Damn it. He should’ve taken caution.

Pushing himself up against the bed, the breakfast that was once warm was already cold. Well, he might as well dig in and find out if you poisoned it. He wouldn’t be surprised, maybe you’ve already figured out the burial site and what colour his coffin could be…

Nevertheless, the small gesture of kindness presented by you had reached his heart. It’s been a long time since he’s actually ate something that smells and looks edible, alongside the small note next to the three white pills, informing him to “take these with the food”.

Wow, you have nice handwriting. The compliment rang through his mind like a ping pong ball emitting even more compliments than he couldn’t utter out loud because he knows the risk of rambling to his crush will be high.

That’s more of a reason why he has to take caution.

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

When was the last time he was allowed out of this apartment?

Sure, everyone has popped by to help him get around the place, but when was the last time he saw- and actually sat down on- his precious throne donning a wine glass in one hand and a roll of newspaper that had a crossword puzzle on the back.

But several things (these past three-ish weeks) have perplexed him to the edge of understanding and not understanding.

Like why hasn’t Kurogiri bothered to teleport him back to the base? Or why does Toga always giggle when seeing him stuck in your bed, additionally, if you truly hated and despised him, then why are you letting him stay bedridden on your personal bed? There’s too many questions and not enough answers.

Gosh, and somebody better not stop him from drinking more then three fucking wine bottles- all from the same brand- or else he’ll explode (not literally, he rather not be like somebody he used to know.)

Sighing at the state his thoughts were in, the timing of your arrival was always as impeccable as ever.

Holding a small bag containing some trinkets, the small smile he used around you allowed the torture of butterflies and (slowly) budding roses in your stomach to erupt into a full fledge garden when he began using a subtle approach when seeing you come back to your home.

Petite smiles became the norm, saying thank you and staying quiet when your gloved hands brushed soothingly on the tattered skin littered with scars as his breath softened to nothing but— “Deku?” Humming a respond to desensitise your harsh wrath, the headache medicine that you had given to him earlier this morning was absolutely making magic (cue the jazz hands in the background) happen in his head.

A soft (and holy) finger ghosted past his temple to simply brush a measly strand of green out of his face. “Are you okay?” Murmured (y/n) where she let her guard down long enough to let the (beautiful) green-haired boy see the glimmer of comfort that you discovered.

Leaning his head towards your unaware palm, he basked in the warmth of your hand that emitted on his cheek.

“Yeah…I’m okay with you, sweetheart.”

(If religion didn’t exist, I would’ve imagined Deku worshipping the ground (y/n) walked on.)

(If the overwhelming heat in your cheeks didn’t exist, I would’ve imagined (y/n) kissing Deku.)

Tag list:

@glitterfreezed, @in-this-house-we-stan-izuku, @haredabi, @orenjineki, @quietlegends

49 notes · View notes

imagination-is-key-in-my-world · 4 years

Text

Brave

Authors Note: I decided to include parts of the book as well as the television series. I really like the way that it turned out. As a previous sufferer of self-harm this was quite interesting for me to write. Due to this I did not want to make it too lengthy as it can cause some triggers.

Request: Could you do one where Jace notices the reader’s self-harm scars? Also, I was wondering if you could mix the story where she refuses to cry and then Jace sees her self-harm scars.

Pairing: Jace Wayland x Reader

Summary: A Shadowhunter who was not born into a life of Angelic powers now fights off her own inner demons. The consequences of being made Angelic from the Mortal Cup were now catching up to Y/N. While she feels numb to every emotion on this planet, she knows one that is true. The love that she feels for one Jace Wayland. But how is he going to feel when he knows that she has been keeping one part of her life private from everyone she knows.

Warnings: Mental health triggers and references to self-harm. This could also contain swearing.

Word Count: 4,687

“What are you doing here Jace?” I screamed from the bathroom door. Jace and I are in a relationship together which is why it should not have been that big of a deal that he invited himself into my room without warning or permission.

Instead of receiving a response, he just stood there watching me with his mouth gaped open in surprise. “Jace!” I launched a pillow from the nearby bed straight towards his beautiful blonde locks. “I am trying to get ready for training, would you please leave!” I yelled as I clutched the drooping towel around my naked body.

“But I thought that we were going to walk over together.” He pleaded. Jace always did this thing where he would drop his head ever so slightly and look straight up at me, the same way that an innocent puppy would to get the last bite of your sandwich. “You know, as boyfriend and girlfriend.”

“You could have still knocked!” I countered as I shut the door to the bathroom to start getting dressed.

“I wanted it to be a surprise, Y/N.” He huffed. I could tell that he was leaning against the bathroom door in a cheesy ‘I want to be as close to you as I can’ kind of way. “Plus, that Sebastian guy keeps on trying to get closer to you and he should know that you are mine and not his.”

I huff back, “You should know by now that Seb means nothing to me. I am in love with the goofy guy on the other side of this door. Speaking of which, will you move so that I can actually open this door.”

When the door was pushed open, I saw how tired he looked. There were large dark circles residing under his eyes as if he had not slept in days. His hair was dishevelled and his clothes were a little creased from where he possibly threw them into the corner of his room without considering to fold them.

I reach for him and hold onto him tightly. “Are you alright?” I rest my hands on either side of his face and gaze up into his eyes. When he did not respond, I asked again. “Jace? Baby? What is going on?” “His eyes sort of snapped into focus and the corners of his lips rose up into a quick grin.

“Right!” He stood back a step and clapped his hands together. “Are you ready to have your arse kicked?” I grimaced at his sudden change in character. Jace has acted weird the last couple of days and I was starting to get a little worried about him. The constant checking of time and sudden change in emotion was not uncommon lately. But it was not the Jace that I grew to love. Something about him was different.

I snatch his hands and pull him away before he could brush me off once again. “Jace? I think we need to talk.” Before I could even finish my sentence, fear flashed in his eyes.

“What! What do you mean by ‘we need to talk?’ That is the ‘you are breaking up with me’ spiel.” I hold on tightly to his hand as his body starts to go into a minor panic mode. The sort of reaction you would get when you looked everywhere for you weapon during a battle while the demon surges towards you kind of thing. Utter hopelessness. “Don’t do this, please. Is it because of how jealous I get with Sebastian when he gets close to you. I will try to work on it. If it means we can stay together I would do anything. I would change anything, you name it, and I will change it. Just do not do this.”

“Jace!” I screamed shaking his body to revive him from the sudden rant that he had fallen into. “Jace, I am not breaking up with you.” His breath slowed and his cheeks slowly regained some colour in them. “Sit down with me.”

I guided Jace over to the bed where I continued to hold onto his hand tightly. “What’s wrong Y/N?” I noticed that his eyes were welling up slightly.

“I could ask you the same question Jace.” I pause as I let my eyes search his. “You have not been yourself lately. Your hair is messy, your clothes are not as pristine as they normally are and it looks like you have not slept in days.” I sigh, “Baby please just tell me what is going on.”

His shoulders caved in and his head dropped to look at the floor. “I am scared Y/N.” The words came out of his mouth in a whisper. “I am scared because every time I close my eyes, I see myself turning into this monstrous form of myself and I get these awful nightmares and they always end the same way. I either push you away, or I destroy you so much that you crumble away into nothing. I am scared that I am going to ruin you because of what I am.”

“What are you on about! You could not hurt me even if you tried. You are a good person Jace.” Carefully I reach for my sleeve that has started to rise on my arm. Slowly I guide the fabric back down to my wrist to cover up the marks that were not caused by runes. Jace has no clue that I have these and if I had my way he never would. The thing is I was not born a Shadowhunter. I was made one. Unfortunately for me when Valentine stole the Mortal Cup and made me into what I am, there were some problems. Some of the runes that most Shadowhunters can use do not work on us who were made from the Cup. Some runes that would make keeping my secret from Jace that little bit easier – the healing rune.

“You were there! Y/N, you heard what the Angel had to say. Valentine poisoned me with demon blood. He made me into a monster. A monster that may one day hurt the people I love.” He held onto my wrists tightly but not in a way that hurt. “I can not let myself become that, that thing.”

“Jace you are not a monster. Nor will you ever become one. I will not let you.” I searched his eyes for something that possibly seemed like recognition of my words, but there was nothing. He was completely consumed with fear and regret.

“You need to promise me that if I ever become that thing that Valentine wanted me to become that you will kill me.” There it was. A shining drop slowly guiding its way down his cheek only to splash onto my hand. “When or if that day comes, I will need you to kill me, Y/N.”

I pulled his head onto my lap and gently smoothed his hair as he wept. Seeing Jace cry like this did truly break me. But I had no similar reaction when I heard those words. I do not know whether it was because I knew he would never do anything to hurt me, or because I was programmed to be this Shadowhunter that was not able to feel that sort of way. It was hard for me to accept why I was so different. Why I could not cry over things that happened to me. When I saw my mother die, when my father disowned me when he saw what I had become thanks to Valentine or when Jace told me he loved me for the first time. During all these milestones, I had not cried once. The thing is I do feel pain, I feel suffering and I feel loneliness. But I respond in a different way. While most people can get the pain out of their head by crying or opening up, I cannot. Instead I open something else up. I know it sounds bad, but it is the only thing that lets me truly feel those emotions, no matter how long they last. Only after I am done feeling my own ‘pain,’ I can not wipe the slate and pretend that it did not happen, the way that most people can do by shedding a tear. The memory is left on my arm forever.

“Jace, I will never hurt you, just like I know in my heart that you will never hurt me.” His crying was slowing down which was a good sign. I leaned down and placed a kiss on Jace’s cheek. “I love you too much to do anything to hurt you.”

Jace began to sit up and rub at his eyes to remove the tear stains. “I wish I could be as brave as you. Everyone seems to think I am the big brave Shadowhunter. When really it is you who is the brave one. I would love to know for one day what that felt like.”

Those words hit home. Jace would never have said those words if he really knew what was going on with me. What was really going on in my head. I am not brave; I was built to be numb to fear. “You do not want to be brave baby.”

I passed him a tissue from my nightstand and gave him one last cuddle. “Trust me, Jace.”

***

Training was stressful. I mean training could never be exciting or fun for another word for it. I never really expect much when I go, just sweat and hard work. It was intense. Training might have been easier if it was limited to just me and him. The thing is, Jace has this massive problem with some of the other Shadowhunters. He knows that a few of them treat me slightly different to the rest because of the way that I acquired my abilities. Unlike the rest of them, I was not born Angelic. In fact, I was a little reckless before the Cub changed my life. Since then, some view me as unworthy to hold this gift. Sometimes, I would be inclined to agree with them.

Unfortunately, for us during the training session, it was not just me and Jace like we had wished it would be. Sebastian was there and I could tell that Jace was unnerved by the idea of sharing the same space with him. With almost animalistic qualities, Jace would bare his teeth whenever Sebastian came close to us. I do not know whether Sebastian is interested in me because of how I reached this point in my life, or for other reasons. Either way, Jace has decided that he does not like him. Therefore, when Jace has made his mind up about someone, it is often quite difficult to change.

“Why can’t you just tell him to fuck off?” Jace turned to me. Clearly annoyed by his whole presence in the institute let alone the training room. “He is trying to piss me off and I know it. Please babe, can you just say something.” It was not as if Jace and Sebastian had ever had words about me. It is just Jace can not stand his whole entire existence. It was almost as if he smelt something rotten about him.

“Jace, babe. We need to be able to share this room. You know what Alec said, we can not be having any privileges now that he is running the institute. I mean he has made so many allowances for us already. We are the only two Shadowhunters who are not married who can share the same room simply because you said you were afraid for my own protection. Alec is not going to suddenly change more rules around here for us.” I hold onto his shoulder as I stretch out the muscles in my leg. “Plus, I am not interested in him one bit. Therefore, he should not pose that much of an issue for you. And stop growling at him already, you are starting to drool a little.”

Jace scoffed a little and picked me up. I let out a small squeal at the sudden contact that he had made. “Can you both just get a room.” Clary said as Jace’s lips collided with my own. “I mean I am starting to feel a little queasy. I looked over to see that Clary was holding her stomach and pretending to bend over to throw up.

“We have one. Thanks though.” Jace mocked as he continued to kiss me. “I mean you could all leave and we could have this room to ‘continue working up a sweat.’” I swatted his arm as Clary let out another fake gag noise.

While Clary saw the fun in the whole situation, it was clear to me that Sebastian had not. In the corner of my eye I could see Sebastian staring right at me and Jace with a furious look in his eye. I clocked onto the spear that he was holding in his hands. However, the spear was not resting between two of his hands, it was now in two pieces in either hand. I shivered at the sight of the metal weapon now residing in two parts. His face was the epitome of disgust and anger mixed into one.

Due to the kind of Shadowhunter that I am, there were not many things that could startle me in the slightest. However, looking at Sebastian and the broken spear did something to me that I did not think was possible. It scared me.

“Earth to Y/N?” Jace waved one hand in front of my face when I must have missed the last few attempts to gain my attention. “Hey? What’s up with you. Clary and I were only having a laugh.”

Clary looked over concerned that she may have offended me. She was one of my ‘closest friends’ in the Institute as she knew how much of an outside I felt when I first joined. But behind her grew an even angrier Shadowhunter. Sebastian’s chest was rising and falling with an increasing pace. My eyes were locked onto his, for once I felt a little afraid.

“I know.” I forced a fake laugh but I never lost eye contact with Sebastian. Jace continued to talk to Clary as I fought back this intense feeling inside of me that was telling me to run and to take Clary and Jace with me. I watched as Sebastian picked up a dagger from the table. He too did not break eye contact with me. Unlike the spear, he did not break this weapon. Instead he held onto it and bounced it up and down in his palm. Almost as if he were deliberating what he was going to do with it.

“Jace?” I whispered as I watched Sebastian hold onto the dagger. “Jace?” I repeated as his arm lifted above his shoulders and began to fold slightly behind his back. “Jace!” I screamed and launched myself in front of Jace as the dagger left Sebastian’s hand and entered my back. I heard a scream when my body was thrusted against Jace’s caused from the impact from the dagger.

Jace’s face was white, as was Clary’s. He did his best to hold me up as my legs began to weaken beneath me. “Y/N?” Fear washed over Jace as he tried to come to terms with what had just happened. “Clary, go and alert Alec of the attack.” When Clary was frozen still, he yelled at her again. “Clary now!”

The dagger hurt of course but nothing hurt more than the fact that if I were a couple seconds slower that this would have resulted in a different outcome. One that I did not even want to stomach.

She ran off in the direction of Alec’s office. “Pull it out, Jace. Please, I can not reach it.” I wanted to cry from the pain caused by the dagger but instead I just felt empty. The soring pain rushed throughout my shoulder once the blade was removed. It was lodged between my shoulder blades; however, it was slightly more to the right of my spine which lucky for me means that there should not be too much long-lasting damage. If I had not have reacted in time, the dagger would have been perfectly aligned with Jace’s heart. A risk that I was not going to take.

I knew that Sebastian and Jace had issues, but I did not think they were that bad that Sebastian would try and kill Jace over them.

The entire time Jace had tried his best to keep his cool. To stop himself from wanting to run off and find Sebastian and bury the dagger deep in his heart just like he had intended for him. Jace lifted my legs up and carried me to the infirmary where Isabelle and Max were playing cards in one of the spare beds.

“What the fuck happened!” Isabelle proclaimed as she saw the mess that my shoulder was in. “Who did this?” Max jumped off the bed and started prepping the bed ready for Jace to place me onto. The little boy was worried. I had never seen him look that afraid whenever I was around. He once told me that he always felt safe when he had Jace, Alec, Isabelle, Clary and myself in the room with him. But now he was shaking like a leaf.

“Sebastian.” Jace murmured. “See I told all of you that Sebastian was a creep and no one wanted to listen to me. Turns out he is not a creep, but a complete and utter arsehole.” Jace punched the infirmary door once and then winced at the pain that rushed throughout his hand.

“Language!” Isabelle declared as soon as the word ‘arsehole’ left Jace’s lips. “Max is here!”

“Are we going to just forget the fact that you just said the word ‘fuck’ then?” Jace countered. “When I find the son of a-” Jace looked over at Max before rephrasing himself. “Angel, I will make sure that he does not take another breath. Jace was unnerved by the attack and he was not thinking straight. I have seen him act like this a couple times, but not when it came to considering taking another Shadowhunter’s life, even if it was Sebastian.

“Jace. I am okay. There is no need to go and do that.” I whimper as I attempt to adjust myself on the bed so that I was no longer leaning on top of my wound.

“There you go, defending him again.” Jace snapped. I have seen Jace angry before, but this time he was angry within reason. When he gets like this there is no way anyone can reason with him. “Why the fuck do you do that for. He just tried to kill me but he ended up hurting you instead and you will not let me do anything about it. Sometimes it is like you treat him more like your boyfriend than you treat me.”

“Jace!” Isabelle snapped but Jace brushed her off and stormed out of the room. Isabelle looked sympathetic. I could tell that she was torn over who she should go to, me or Jace. “He does not mean it, Y/N. He is just angry.”

I sigh from the pain, “More reason for you to go after him.” She looked over at me with mixed emotions. “I will be okay. Just make sure that he doesn’t do anything stupid.”

She handed me a spare blade that she had in her belt and took off with Max closely behind. Finally, I could be alone and deal with my pain in my own way without any judgements.

***

I looked at the dagger for what must have been 5 minutes. I balanced it in my left hand and watched as the light caught onto the metal. I was in so much pain and I wanted desperately to take the pain away. I scanned the room to ensure that there were no Shadowhunters lurking about as no one would understand the need that I had to do this. I needed to take this pain away, and I could only do it by hurting myself more.

It only took a minute to glide the blade over my arm parallel with the fresh scars. I watched as the blood coated the blade and I felt this rush of overwhelming relief. I let my head fall back onto the cushion and I closed my eyes. I sort of imagine that this is what heroin feels like. A sense of abandonment from the body allowing the soul to feel free. My head buzzed from the loss of blood but it felt good, it felt like my body was cleansing itself.

I let myself think back to the incident. What I could have done differently. But instead of defending Jace, a vision popped into my head that I desperately wished had not. It showed me watching the event happen. But this time, I was further away from Jace. I tried desperately to reach him but it was almost as if I was being held back by something. When I turned my head in the dream, I noticed the snarled face that was Valentine. “Now, now my little prodigy. He told you he wanted to die before anything or anyone hurt you. Let him have his wish. But why he would want to risk his own life for you is unjust. I mean, you’re not even a real Shadowhunter.”

“Y/N? What did you do?” Jace’s voiced boomed in my ears, resulting in my body shooting to an upright position. I sort of panicked when I felt the cool air drag across my arm, revealing the scars that were laid out for him to see, including the fresh one that I made while he was possibly risking his own life trying to defend me.

“Nothing, I didn’t do anything Jace.” I lied clawing at the fabric on my sleeve to bring it down over the marks. Of course, I felt ashamed. I saw the look in his eyes and it made me feel like I had broken the boy that I love.

As fast as I had brought the sleeve down, Jace was at my side bringing it back up. “What the hell is this?” He was pointing directly to the cuts on my flesh. He did not yell at me. His voice was soft and calm. The calmest it probably had been since the incident.

“Jace, I-”

“Babe please do not lie to me. I have eyes, I can see what you have done to yourself. What I want to know is why you did it?” He stared at me and I could tell that he was looking at a completely different person to the one he thought he knew. I searched his person for any sign of blood but there was none. Isabelle must have caught up with him before he could do anything to Sebastian. Well anything bloody that is.

“After everything that I said this morning about wanting to die before I let myself hurt you. While this whole time you have been hurting yourself.” Tears were filling his eyes again and I could not even force myself to look away. “I told you that my life was not worth living if you were not in it. So why are you doing this to yourself.”

I was speechless for a while. It is not that I didn’t have an excuse to tell him. It was that I did not want to lie to him anymore. The words that I had were not going to be enough to fix how broken I had just made the boy I love. I felt my body fighting the urge to react but this reaction was a stranger to me.

“I am not brave.” Were the words that broke through the surface.

“What?”

“This morning, you said you wanted to be brave like me. Only I am not brave. Not even close. From the moment that Valentine did this to me, I was the one who changed. Not only my strengths and abilities, but my emotions to. I became this numb being. A shell of a person who cannot feel things.”

“If you can not feel things, does that mean that you do not love me?” The words were caught in his throat. Trapped behind the tears that were spooling from his eyes. “Did you ever love me?”

“No, Jace. I do love you. That is the one emotion that I know I have. From the moment that I met you I knew that I loved you.”

“How can you know that?” He interrupted.

“I know I love you because every time you get close to me, my heart beats faster. Every time you kiss me, I feel like I belong with you. Every time you say you love me; my cheeks flush and I feel warm in every part of my body. I know I love you because I know that no matter what is broken inside of me, that whenever I am with you, I feel stronger and almost whole. I know that if you are not with me that my whole world will come crashing down. Living is not possible without you. That is why I love you. You make me a better person. Someone who is worth loving.” There was a cold sensation on my hand. I dropped my hand and saw a wet spot that had fallen on top of my skin.

Jace’s hand rose to my cheek, his thumb ran across the space underneath my eye. “I don’t think I have ever seen you cry.”

I shake my head. It was actually happening. I was crying for the first time in years. “That is because this is the first time.” I choke as the tears continue to flood from my eyes. Jace pulled me into him and held me against his chest. “I am so sorry for what I have done.” Within seconds the tears became more rapid and fell quicker from my eyes.

“Can I fix it?” Jace whispered as he reached for his stele from his belt. I shook my head.

“I have tried. Those runes do not work on me.” He kissed my head and continued to hold onto me. “I guess it is the Angels’ punishment for me being the way that I am. For being a reckless and untrue Shadowhunter. When I apply those types of runes all it does is burn and disappear.”

“Will you tell me what is going on? Why you do this to yourself? Maybe if you tell me, then I can make it better and you won’t have to do it anymore?”

I sat there for about an hour explaining it to him and then again to the doctor when he tried to apply the healing rune to my back. I told him about how empty I feel and how hard it was to feel any sort of emotion that made me weak. I told him that love did not make me weak because when I was with Jace I was the strongest person of the planet. That is why I can feel love and nothing else. Jace was understanding but he still looked at me like a frail little girl. “Jace, I am not weak you know.” I looked up at him as my head was resting against his lap. “Now that you know everything about me, I hope you don’t start thinking that I am weak.”

Jace’s head tilted down to look at me directly in the eyes. “I would never think that. I know who you really are.” He whispered, pushing back the strand of hair that had fallen onto my nose.

“Who am I really?” I questioned as I looked up at the man that I knew I loved more than anything in the whole entire world.

“Brave.” He kissed my forehead. “The bravest person I have ever known.”

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robinsondentalfamilylynnwoodwa · 3 years

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1zashreena1 · 4 years

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The Homicide is Hot -12

18+, m/f/f, technically OCxDiego Jimenez [Power]

Summary: Princess struggles with her own morality. But all cats are gray in the dark, right? Oh, and Diego has an epiphany.

WARNINGS: Ridiculous descriptions and ‘the code is more like guidelines’ outlook on grammar. Is it OOC if the character was given essentially zero development in canon???

Literal murder guys, seriously*** Protective Diego, feels, a blow job, plus size woman+fit man, insightful and helpful Julio, f o r e s h a d o w i n g

A/N: Princess took on a life of her own and has essentially become an OC. There are infrequent mentions of her description (specifically as plus size) and her actual name in later pieces (its Bicki). She started as self-insert so she looks like me (plus size, white, short, blue eyes, curly hair). If that is not your thing, I totally understand. And do not feel obligated to read this, I will not be offended!

I’m not a fan of “plot” so be aware that most of this series is just meandering through their relationship, angst-fluff-smut whiplash style. But with dick jokes.

Please don’t hesitate to let me know if you would like to be tagged or removed.

TAGLIST: @chelsfic @symbiont13 @nicke0115 @bunnykjm @rosee-sensuelle @girlpornparadise @mandoplease @heresathreebee @xxsteph-enrixx @jetiikad @joalsglasses @mutantcookiesecrets @demoncatstone @squidlywiddly87 @lockedoutofmyotherblog @poeedamerons

gif by @el-cheung

"Its hot when he's homicidal." There. You said it.

Okay but remember that time when he stabbed two dudes and carved an ear off of a third? And you were gonna like, die if you didn't blow him IMMEDIATELY???

WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH ME.

Wait, wait. Maybe this is … good? That is not the correct word but you know what I mean. If I'm going to be with someone in his position then I need to be able to handle everything that entails, right?

You glance over at TMP, the small stuffed panther is facing you on the breakfast bar. You know its ridiculous, but you feel like he's watching you. It only takes half a second, but you flip the stuffie around so he can't be a voyeur just like his namesake.

The small dry erase board in your lap reflects sunlight back up into your face. Its covered in anxious scribbles regarding last weekend, you're desperately trying to sort them into some semblance of helpfulness. It isn't going well.

I already know he is in love with me, straight out of the horse's mouth. Lol 'horse'.

Seriously. You cannot go one day without a dick joke.

I love him. I mean, how can I claim to love someone if I don't accept all of them? He doesn't maim indiscriminately, it has a point. Is it justified? I don't know. Do I trust his judgment on it being justified? I think I do. I guess the better question is: Do I care?

I'm already in it. He's paying half my bills, he already paid off all my debt. I've accepted so many gifts with the knowledge that they were bought with laundered drug money. Hell, every article of clothing I'm wearing right fucking now was purchased by Diego. Also, he said that those guys lost a shipment to the tune of EIGHTY THOUSAND DOLLARS, so you know, that's an accessory charge. At this point, even if I decide I have some arbitrary moral high ground, I'm definitely rolling around in a ditch, legally speaking.

You've always known that your morality was a bit off center than most people's, but being with Diego has put it into sharp relief. There are so many things that are illegal that you just don't care about. And your very visceral reaction that night was irrefutable proof.

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

Last weekend

Diego does not like the cold. The heat in the SUV is turned way up, you already closed the vents on your side of the backseat. You're on your phone, pretending to ignore the massive hand sneaking under the hem of your dress while your legs are flopped over his lap.

Diego rumbles at you, the phone comes down just enough for you to peek over the top at him.

"Yes? Is there something you would like, my Murder Panther?" Your smirk is damn near audible as you question him.

His eyes trail down to your lap then back up before he answers in a growl, "There is something I would love." The rockiness of his voice never fails to make you quiver just a tiny bit.

Just as those long fingers brush your thong his phone chirps. Repeatedly. And then starts ringing.

Diego snatches the cell out of his jacket pocket and hisses at the screen. Not good, you think. He answers it with a tirade of Spanish, shoots you an incomprehensible look, then retreats from you. Nooooo.

Being the only one in the car who doesn't speak Spanish is its own variety of delightful hell. Bastian and Julio are exchanging meaningful looks in the front while you just have to wait. Diego has gone quiet, which is utterly terrifying.

He disconnects the call, then passes the phone to Julio, who shows it to Bastian, who then changes course.

Diego reluctantly pulls your dress back down as you drop your feet to the floor. He raises a thick arm and tucks you into his side underneath it before kissing the top of your head apologetically.

"We have to run an errand."

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

The warehouse looks like it came straight out of a Law and Order episode. Its abandoned yet eerily lit from the inside, there is a suspicious assortment of motley vehicles parked outside, and two tattoo covered dudes toting semiautomatics appear as you pull up.

"Please tell me those belong to you." You mutter quietly. Your immediate concern is Diego's safety.

Diego gives you the shark smile. "The men or the guns, Princess?"

In the dark, at this incredibly sketchy location, and with the threat of violence thick in the air, he is actually a little bit scary.

You swallow the apprehension and glare at him with a raised chin. "Yes." You snap, crossing your arms in a stubborn huff. Holding his gaze right now is kind of intimidating but you manage it.

"Si, everything here is mine." His voice is hard as steel but the hand that comes up to grip your chin is gentle. It takes a second for you to realize that he is including you in that group. And that you like it.

You take in his features, those eyes are black in the darkness, but the silver in his beard glints in the partial moonlight. The defined jawline, his long straight nose, those perfectly framed velvet lips, thick brows and even thicker hair. So fucking gorgeous. Cupping his bristly cheeks, you whisper one requirement, "Just make sure to come back to me, baby."

Diego leans his forehead down on yours briefly, then kisses your nose. "Wait here for Diego, my Princess." His voice is dark and dripping with emotion. Julio opens the car door from outside and Diego steps out, adjusting his jacket and tucking the abalone-inlaid gun into his pants. He doesn't look back as they walk away.

Bastian steps out and closes the driver's door to smoke. The only door left open is the rear passenger next to where you sit. You're too preoccupied to stay focused on your cell. You look up to see that Bastian is on his phone, Probably his boyfriend checking on him. You can certainly understand that.

Faint voices float out of the open warehouse garage door, but everything is in Spanish. You slide down to the pavement and pace slowly. Its been almost twenty minutes, should you try to check on him? Each lap of pacing takes you ever closer to the empty doorway, purely by happenstance of course, until finally, finally, you can see people inside.

There are three men kneeling on the floor, surrounded by at least two dozen others armed to the teeth. There are more guns than you have ever seen in your life, all being handled casually. Diego paces slowly in front of them, rattling off some rambling array of options, judging from his tone. Whatever he just said must have been unfavorable because two of the kneeling men start crying and begging. I should not be here.

Diego digs both hands deep into his pants pockets, as though searching for a lost item, only to pull out the larger of the switchblades that you know he always carries. Ambling forward, he snatches the man furthest from you by the hair and yanks his head back. The angle looks excruciating, but what happens next is infinitely worse. The blade glints under the overhead lighting as Diego slides it smoothly across the man's throat, triggering a cascade of red.

Diego just slit his throat.

Diego just killed that man.

Diego just committed murder.

You're frozen. Think. Think. If you move now someone will hear your shoes, you stuff a hand into your mouth just in case you make any noise. Your plum dress and black booties should blend into the night, thank fuck the dress is longer so there's less gleaming pale leg to reflect the moonlight.

I should go I should go back to the car I should go home. Your thoughts are racing but you can't look away as Diego skirts the rapidly expanding pool of blood and approaches the next man. He leans down to listen to the doomed man's pleas, one huge hand on his shoulder in mock comfort. Almost faster than your eyes can follow, Diego stabs him three times in the chest. The man coughs, then chokes on blood. Diego nudges him backwards to the floor with an expression of mild disgust before he can cough blood onto those exceedingly expensive shoes. The noise of his death is a quiet gurgle.

You can't feel your legs. Your stomach plummets and your heart rate leaps. This is Diego. This is my man. This is who he is and what he does. And this is what happens if you wrong him.

Just like I'm doing right now?

Sudden understanding makes your palms sweat and your jaw shake. Breathe. I trust him. You know, all the way down to the bottom of your soul, that he would never do anything like this to you.

I'm different.

I'm special.

I'm important.

I have power.

The thrill of getting away with something courses up your spine.

All of these men are his to command, available at his beck and call, and his to dispatch as he sees fit.

And you? Diego belongs to you. This powerful man chooses to kneel at your feet and pleasure you with his mouth, he dotes on you with gifts and gourmet dining, he waits for your text responses with baited breath. You want nothing more than to belong to him.

Movement snaps you out of your own head; Diego is approaching the last man, all confident stalk and predatory grin. A different feeling settles low and deep in your abdomen. Murder Panther. MY Murder Panther.

Diego strokes over the man, no, this one is younger, the young man's hair. He is definitely an adult, but hasn't been for very long. Diego is whispering in his ear, the guy nods frantically and tilts his head toward you. You watch in morbid fascination as Diego carves off his ear.

Diego wipes the blade off on the man's shirt, then pats him on the head as he walks off casually. He gestures to the group as he puts the knife away and they close ranks to help the lone surviving man to his feet and carry him off.

Before you can jolt your body into retreating Diego turns to head your way. He glances up… and sees you.

His face, Oh no. Shock, horror, dismay, annoyance, and finally, determined resolution all cross his features in under three seconds. He uses his broad body to block you from his men's view and marches you back to the SUV. "Get in." He snarls, but he doesn't push you.

You slide all the way across the backseat to crash against the opposite side and Diego follows, slamming the door behind him and locking it. He scrubs a hand down his face and turns to you, expression grim.

You can't imagine what you look like, Probably a scared little bunny. But what you feel like? Oh, that is a different story. Damn near everything about what you just witnessed was so fucking hot. The actual homicides were kind of 'meh' (What is wrong with me???), but his power and ability and danger? Those you are definitely into.

He looks simultaneously defeated and defiant. "Well?" He barks with an expectant gesture. "This is me. This is what I do. You call me Murder Panther, but its different to see, isn't it, Princess?" The way he spits out his pet name for you hurts. He's lashing out in fear. He thinks I'm gonna run.

You keep your eyes locked with his as you reach out to his leg. He flinches at the contact but stays stiff. Your voice is smoky and dark, "I need you. Right fucking now. Give me your dick."

For the first time since you've met, Diego is speechless. His jaw hangs open while he watches you sink to your knees in front of him. Seemingly paralyzed, he just blinks as you rip his pants open and yank the material down over his hips. The instant you achieve clearance for his cock your mouth is on him. Your moan must vibrate the entire vehicle its so loud.

"Princess!" He finally gasps. "You. What. Fuuuck, what is. Oh, hell yes." His hips jerk and you dig your nails into his lower abdomen. He is fully erect in seconds, a little confusion isn't enough to cockblock Diego. Big hands flit through your peripheral vision erratically before settling on your head. The angle is finally correct and you slide him all the way down your throat, he practically howls with it. "Ahh, h-haaa. Jesus fuck, that feels so good. Shit, shit. Princesss."

The way he calls for you, writhing with it, is almost too much. You moan back but don't stop bobbing your head on his length. Firm suction intermixed with sporadic long licks of your broad tongue have him leaking steadily in no time. Your left hand cups his balls, squeezing gently just to feel him tense up. He's salty, but not bitter. You want it. You need him.

Your right hand snakes down to hike up the dress. Once it’s over your wide hips you spread your knees so you can sink down onto his shoe. He doesn't notice at first, not until your hips start rocking in time with your suction.

He grabs a fistful of hair to get your attention. "Are. Fucking christ woman, are you riding my foot?!" His eyes are huge, mouth open to pant.

You nod tightly, "Mm hmm." The moan vibrates all along his cock, causing his hips to rise off the seat.

"Ohh, oh fuck. You're so wet. I can hear it." He groans as though in agony. The thrusts begin to pick up pace and you grind down onto him. Your mouth can open just wide enough to accommodate the majority of his girth, you already know your neck is going to kill you tomorrow. Worth it. The skin of his cock is silky slick with both of you, he glides across your tongue easily but it requires pressure to fit him down your throat. Its like consuming fire, you're burning up from the inside out and its painfully perfect.

In the darkness of the unlit SUV you can't see anything, you can only hear Diego moan and pant while your nose is buried in the soft hair on his lower belly. The intensity of being engulfed in his scent drives you to distraction, you grind down hard on his foot and you're so, so close. His hips lift off the seat to push deeper and you ride his motions, swallowing around the head of his cock. One enormous hand sinks deep into your curls, he pulls gently just because he knows you like it. His purr is deep, "My perfect little Princess."

That's all it takes. You drop your entire weight onto his foot to shudder and whine as an orgasm rips through you. Hips jerking in time with each spasm deep inside, you ride out all the waves without ever breaking rhythm on his dick.

Diego is frozen in shock as he realizes what just happened. He pulls you off, much to your whining disappointment, to stare down at you in awe. He stutters a little, "Good. Girl."

The instant he releases ringlets you dive down onto him with renewed vigor. The emphatic praise only spurs you on even stronger. Everything is wet; his dick, your mouth, his pants, your chin, the seat, your dress, his shoe. Everything. The sounds, the way he tastes, you're desperate to have him.

"You want this? You want Diego?" His voice is so rough, so harsh. You nod tightly and moan for him, high pitched and hoarse. "Princess, so damn good, take it. Take all of me. Fuck, you look goddamn amazing on my cock." His hands stroke endlessly over your hair, his hips are jerking harshly and you know he is close. "Shit. Shit shit shit. Come," he is gasping, panting, "Come again for Diego, mi amor." His body stiffens, his legs shake, the grip in your hair tightens, and his head drops backwards to the seat as he pours down your throat in scorching jets.

Diego collapses, boneless and breathless, but you don't release him. Your right hand shoots down between your legs to work your clit furiously while you continue suckling softly.

"Yesss," he sighs upon noticing your actions. His voice drops low, overflowing with sinful threat, "You come for Diego. Pretty little Princess, all mine. Follow orders, come on your Murder Panther."

It breaks you. Your whole body seizes up as you wail for him, clenching down on nothing in painful ecstasy. Finally relinquishing his cock, you flop face down into his lap with an exhausted groan. Diego melts back into the seat and you both just lay there, panting.

Diego raps on the door window but stays slumped down and loose-limbed.

Bastian unlocks the SUV, then pops the driver's door to stick his head inside. "Yeah, boss?" The blonde studiously avoids looking lower than Diego's face. You can hear Julio chuckling behind Bastian.

"Fuck the club. Take us home." Diego decrees lazily. You sputter joyful laughter directly into his pants.

You ride home curled up in his lap, snuggled into that salt and pepper beard you love so much while Diego feathers kisses all over your face, the knife cradled in your hands.

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

Diego stumbles down the stairs the next morning, yawning hugely, only to find Julio in the kitchen, unashamedly raiding the fridge. Bastard, Diego chuckles.

"Manito! We need to talk." Julio gets right to the matter. "Before Gordita gets up." He adds pointedly.

Uhh, what. "Fine. Talk. Also, are you eating carrots at 10:12am??" That is disgusting.

Diego plops down onto a barstool and stares dejectedly at the espresso machine until Julio rolls his eyes and turns it on for him.

"Look, you need a check, eh?" Julio sighs but stands firm while Diego side eyes him suspiciously. When no objection comes, Julio forges on, "She saw you murder two people and cut an ear off a third last night, right? And her response was to blow you in the car? Fucking ride your foot to come, what, twice?"

Diego smiles dreamily, "Yeah. It was a good night." So. Much. Licking.

Julio passes him the steaming mug, "If you don't put a ring on it, pendejo..."

Diego nearly drops the mug as his closest confidante walks off into the living room.

Shit, Julio is right.

#damnit diego #murder panther #rough me up then dick me down #24 fucking 7 hours in this house #zash writes #some whiplash #feels and dick #dick and feels

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cagestark · 5 years

Text

-Defender-

Read here on AO3.

Warnings: homelessness, poor!peter. Adult!Peter. Mean!Avengers. Not Steve Rogers friendly. Also, in this AU I’ve taken it upon myself to change some aspects of Spider-Man (not too many, no worries). Enjoy.

The first time he meets the spider-kid, it is after hours on the eighty-second floor of the main building of Stark Tower.

But the kid is on the wrong side of the glass.

“FRIDAY, run that by me again,” Tony says. He’s in his pajamas—a pair of hastily pulled on pants with not even boxers underneath, donned only when FRI sounded the alarm. The holographic video plays in front of him, but what it shows him makes no sense. It isn’t even possible. “What exactly am I seeing?”

“Fifteen minutes ago sensors on the first floor were triggered, suggesting a human presence. On closer examination, the intruder seems to be scaling the side of the building using grip enhancements that I can’t identify.”

“Okay, but is he doing what I think he’s doing?”

“Do you think he appears to be washing the windows, boss? Because all signs point to such.”

As they speak, the figure (barefoot—barefoot and more than eighty floors above Manhattan) dressed head-to-toe in black including a dark balaclava that obscures their features, pulls a squeegee from where it is secured to a multi-purpose belt around their waist. They wipe the glass clean in long, smooth strokes, flicking the water and soap off behind them. The way they move across the glass gives him goosebumps, makes him shiver with terror and awe.

He takes the elevator down from the Penthouse, passing the Avengers’ floor where the others are sleeping peacefully (God knows he doesn’t want to wake any of them up). There’s no indication that this person is a threat—and if they were a threat, this is hardly a dastardly plan.

The eighty-third floor is dark and quiet. It’s an accounting floor where they work to manage his assets and the company’s assets. He passes cubicles on his left and right, and though he visits this floor maybe once a month or less, he feels at home here. The entire building is home to him, and he knows it the way Steve and Bucky knew their tiny homes in Brooklyn, the way Clint knows the farm his wife maintains.

The south wall is entirely glass. Tony stands back in the shadows to watch as the dark figure crawls from east to west. They become preoccupied when they realize that their bare feet are leaving smudges on the glass, and their floundering is—well, it’s almost cute.

Tony approaches that glass cautiously, unwilling to startle person and send them plummeting to their death. When they pass by, squeegee pressed to the glass, the freeze with their face just inches from Tony’s. The balaclava has goggles on over it to obscure the person’s eyes, but Tony doesn’t need to see those eyes to know they are wide with alarm.

Grabbing a paper and pen from a nearby cubicle, he writes a quick message and presses it to the glass.

MEET ME ON THE ROOF.

They stare at the paper for so long that Tony begins to question their literacy. But then they attach the squeegee back to their belt and lift the bottom half of the balaclava. They reveal a cut, angular jaw and thin lips. Leaning in, they come so close to the glass that Tony thinks they’re going to kiss right where Tony’s mouth is—but instead they heave a silent breath, and in the fog of it, write with one bare finger: NO.

“Are you kidding me, right now?” Tony mutters. He uncaps the pen again, holding it in his teeth, and writes on the other side of the paper. TRESPASSING!

They breathe again, write: BUSY. Then they squeegee over the words and continue on like they aren’t dangling 1200 feet above Manhattan.

“Boss?” FRIDAY says. “I believe I’ve pegged the identity of our intruder. It wasn’t until he wrote on the glass that I was able to get a decent map of his fingerprints; all other readings keep coming back inconclusive. His name is Peter Parker. He was hired by Stark Industries in early August as a member of the maintenance department. Twenty years old, native of Queens, emergency contact is one May Parker, also of Queens—”

“Thank you for solving the mystery, Velma, any ideas on why he’s acting like an oversized microfiber cloth on my building’s glass at the devil’s hour?

“Jinkies, Shaggy, I’m an intelligent digital assistant, not a mind reader.”

“Shaggy? You’re grounded, baby. I’m a Fred guy all the way.”

“If anything, boss, you’re most similar to Daphne. But according to Mr. Parker’s recently opened emails, the maintenance department was mandated just yesterday to wash the windows on the main, north, and south towers. It appears Mr. Parker is getting a head—and unorthodox—start.”

“This maniac works for me?” Tony mutters. He follows along the window while the kid cleans, though he loses him when Parker crosses around the corner of the building and disappears onto the west side. “How the hell is he sticking to the window, FRI?”

“I can’t tell, boss. Diagnostics can’t find anything between his hands and the windows, but whenever he is sticking, the characteristics of his fingerprints change. It appears he grows scopulae.”

“Scopulae? As in, spider hair?” Tony stands at the window for several long minutes, lost in thought. At last, he heads back towards the elevator, shivering in the air conditioning. Instead of asking FRIDAY to take him to the floor Parker is currently cleaning (Floor 69, as of now), he tells her to take him back up to the penthouse. If the kid’s enhanced, then he’s safer on climbing the walls than anyone else Tony knows.

Not to mention, the windows are fucking spotless.

Peter is up to his eyes in the HVAC unit of zone 3 in the Stark Tower main building when his ears pick up the sound of the elevator door opening on the other side of the floor. With a building as tall as Stark Tower, heating and cooling takes division of the building into several zones with their own separate units. Zone three is for floors twenty-four through thirty-six—and twenty-four in particular, where the HVAC home base is, is a marketing floor. People here come and go without noticing him, walking briskly and talking on their phones. The elevators open and close all day long, but something about this particular incoming occupant has the office going silent.

The hairs raise all over Peter’s arms and legs. Danger? he wonders. But then he hears the murmuring of voices, a name said over and over in reverence: Mr. Stark. Tony Stark.

Tony Stark. The man who had caught Peter scaling the side of his supertall last night. Emblazoned in Peter’s memory is the image of the man coming out of the darkness on the other side of the glass, wearing nothing but some low-slung pajama pants. And who knew that Tony Stark, forty-plus years old still had the remnants of a six pack? Peter had been distracted for the rest of the night, even almost losing his grip around floor 21. Which wouldn’t have killed him (probably) but would have been very shocking to anyone walking down below on the street.

And now the man is on Peter’s floor? Well. It doesn’t take a genius to know what’s coming.

“Fuck,” Peter mutters. He immediately starts packing away his tools, tucking his hat down lower on his forehead to obscure his brow. His senses activate accidentally and suddenly a wrench is stuck to his hand and he shakes and shakes but for the life of him, it won’t come off—

“Well, hello.”

The wrench goes flying out of Peter’s hand, and Tony Stark barely manages to dodge it as it careens by him, hitting the wall and denting the plaster. They stare at each other, eyes wide, neither of them expecting such a thing to have happened and not being entirely sure how to proceed. The man is even more handsome in the light, eyes like the whiskey he drinks, hair immaculate and threaded with grays around the temples, lips full and curving into a smile. Fuck, Peter has had a crush on this guy since his Uncle Ben took him to a Stark Expo more than a decade ago. Seeing him in the flesh is almost too much to handle.

“Sorry,” Peter mutters, going to pick up the wrench.

“Don’t be. You’d be surprised how often I get that reaction.” He sticks out a hand, and Peter’s got no fucking clue what Tony wants him to do with it until the older man wiggles his fingers. For a business guy by day (and a suited superhero by night), Stark’s hands are calloused and strong. He looks Peter in the eye, gaze soft and unassuming, like he isn’t the most powerful man in the business world, like Peter isn’t some gum he’s tracked in on his shoe.

“I’m sorry for the wall, too,” Peter says. “I’ll fix that.”

“No, you won’t.”

Peter’s shoulders hunch. Of course, he won’t. Stark’s going to fire him. Peter will be back to shelter hopping and picking pockets until he finds another job. At least now he might have some references from coworkers who all seem to have taken to Peter, the youngest of their troop. The quiet woman Sam saves him a seat every lunch hour in the breakroom, and Carlito has started asking his wife to pack him two sandwiches so he can give one to Peter. Everyone has been so nice.

Peter should have known it wouldn’t last.

“You’ll be much too busy, I imagine,” Stark says. He takes the toolbox from Peter, like Peter is some dainty girl who can’t carry her own books to class, or something. Like a gentleman might. Peter is keenly aware of everyone’s gaze on them while the older man escorts him to the elevator. It must look ridiculous: Peter in his dirty work clothes, sneakers taped together, walking beside Tony Stark.

“Are you calling the cops on me?” Peter asks when the elevator door closes. He can tell that it’s moving upwards and not downwards, though—

“Why would I do that?” Stark asks. He’s wearing tinted glasses, and it’s a crime, because he’s so fucking pretty Peter would kill to see his face without them.

“Because of last night.”

Stark’s face smooths out. “I wasn’t sure if we were going to pretend like I didn’t know it was you—but I guess this makes it all a lot easier on my part. No, I’m not calling the cops on you.”

The elevator opens on the most lux penthouse Peter has ever seen: modern decore with glass tables and marble countertops and windows that show Manhattan below them like a toy city that Peter could step out and crush if he so felt like. The wood floors are polished and gleaming under Peter’s disgusting tennis shoes, and he’s never felt more out of place and more at home all at once.

“Thirsty? Hungry? I’ve got leftovers, if you don’t mind my germs. If you do mind my germs, I can order in for you. What do you like? Any food allergies?” Stark’s head pops up from where it had disappeared into the refrigerator. With narrowed eyes, he assesses Peter’s silence.

“Water would be—that’d be cool.”

“Sparkling? Distilled? Alkaline?”

“Uh—tap?”

“Excuse me, tap?” Stark shuts the door with a thud. “Now I am calling the cops. Seriously. You? Sit.”

Peter sits at the stool tucked beneath the island countertop. The marble cools his heated palms when he presses them against it. Despite his words, the man does not make any move to call anyone. He moves a Styrofoam dish to the microwave and heats up something that smells lovely, like marinara and basil. He cracks open a bottle of water and places it in front of Peter. It’s the crispest, most tasteless water he’s ever had. Probably harvested from mountainous glaciers or something.

At last Stark joins him on the other side of the island, sitting the dish of—yes, pasta—between them. He hands Peter a fork. “Dig in, kid,” he says. “I don’t have cooties.”

What the fuck, Peter thinks as he shares pasta with Tony Stark. Unbidden to his mind comes a scene from some Disney movie, when the two dogs share the piece of spaghetti and it makes them kiss. Just the idea of it has Peter staring resolutely at the wall of cabinets, chewing mechanically, hoping his face isn’t as red as it feels.

“Shall we talk shop while we eat?” Stark asks, dabbing at his mouth with a napkin.

Peter shrugs. He has no idea why he’s here. No idea what shop this man could possibly have to talk about with the likes of him.

“You’ve got mad skills,” he says at last. Stark lays his phone flat on the table and from it comes a holographic projection. Peter watches himself in 3-D scale the side of Stark Tower. Yeah, he looks pretty cool—except for the squeegee. That’s kind of dorky. “How are you doing that?”

“It’s—a long story,” Peter says, rubbing his thumb against the prongs of his fork. Society has made a lot of advancements regarding its treatment of enhanced humans, but there’s still a minority of people who are afraid in their ignorance. It was on the news last week when Peter was killing time in a McDonalds before he could arrive at work to Stark Tower: an enhanced teenager was murdered by some concerned townsfolk who believed she was destroying the crops with her weather-controlling capabilities.

He can feel Stark’s gaze on him. It makes him bristle, makes his shoulders hunch. Peter doesn’t do well with authority—that is, most authority seems to just use and abuse Peter. He’s suddenly keenly aware of how vulnerable he is right now: a twenty-year-old with no family, no friends to come looking for him, in the penthouse of the most powerful man in the world who has perfect blackmail material on him. Peter’s palms start to sweat, and he wipes them on his pants.

“Are you going to hurt me?” Peter asks, voice low and quiet. He can’t look. But he has to know—has to prepare himself.

Stark stands, abruptly. “No—Parker. Peter. Look at me.”

Peter does, his jaw clenched and eyes flat. He might be scared, but he’s no coward. Only, Stark doesn’t look anything like a man who is about to hurt him. His mouth is downturned in the softest expression of tragedy that Peter’s ever seen. “I’ve just realized,” Stark says. “This won’t do. I need Burger King.”

“Sorry, what?”

“Burger King. Don’t you know that I’m an eccentric billionaire, doomed to give in to my every whim? And my whims want a Whopper. Come on. Grab your metaphorical coat—or your literal coat. Should we stop by the maintenance floor?” Stark strolls to a closet and rifles through it, pulling out a long, dark, very expensive looking coat. Peter can almost feel it under his fingers, it must be so soft. “Kid? Are you hearing me?”

“I don’t have a coat.”

“Alright, take one of mine. Let’s go. My stomach waits for no one.”

When Peter tries to step onto the elevator behind Stark without grabbing a coat, the man insists on going back in and finding one for him. The billionaire puts him in a half dozen coats made of the soften Italian wools and genuine cashmeres, before settling on one that’s very similar to Mr. Stark’s, only with a collar that Peter can pulls up around his throat to keep the wind away. It smells clean, but faintly of cologne, like the man has worn it out recently and put it away without washing it. Thank God the coat is thick enough to hide the semi he sports.

They end up hiding in a booth in the back of a Burger King two blocks away, both of them with Whoppers and Large Fries and Cokes. Peter inhales his—an enhanced appetite, not to mention the general lack of food he suffers from on a typical day’s basis—but Tony keeps up, holding his own. He takes out his phone and sits it on the table again, tapping several buttons, and suddenly Peter’s head throbs a little, senses spiking.

“Is that bothering you? I’m using it to scramble anything we say from being overheard by anyone around us, but we can do it the old-fashioned way if we must—you know. Whispering.”

“It’s fine—that’s, that’s amazing.”

Stark blinks. “I—thanks. I made it.”

“I figured—how does it work? Can you tell me?”

And the man humors him. Actually humors him, explaining in laymen’s terms even though he might be surprised at the level of conversation Peter could keep up with. When Peter asks a question, the other man grins showing neat, white teeth that Peter would give anything to run his tongue along.

“You’ve been really nice,” Peter says when their food is gone and cups nothing but ice. It’s an understatement, because this is the nicest anyone has treated Peter in a long, long time, and the way Stark talks and looks at him isn’t condescending or pitying. It’s like he sees Peter as a human. “But why am I here? So, you know. About me. What are you going to do?”

“Nothing,” Stark says. “It’s not illegal to be enhanced. And while it is illegal to trespass, mostly it’s very unsafe to do it more than a quarter mile above the ground, so I do ask that anymore night time adventures aren’t spent scaling my building.”

“Okay,” Peter agrees. “I just wanted to make it easier for the other guys. They really look out for me. I didn’t want to make them have to work so hard, when I could do it so easily.”

“That’s very generous of you, Peter. May I call you Peter?”

Peter shrugs.

“I’ll take that as a yes—and you can call me Tony, okay kid? I’m not here to call the cops or to fire you. As a matter of fact, I want to offer you a job. Tentatively.”

“You want to promote me?” Peter asks, brow furrowing.

“It’s hardly a promotion. The hours are longer. The pay is—well, under the table. There’s danger too. Potentially mortal peril.

“Tell me, Peter, what do you know about the Avengers?”

#starker #homelessness #adult!peter #mean!avengers #badass!peter

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