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blxetsi · 3 years

Note

I was curious if you’d be up for headcanon of adopting Gabi Braun, or what it’s like being her older sibling?

If not maybe just Pieck relationship headcanons

Please and thank you

im so sorry im getting to this so late 😭🤚 ty for requesting ‼️

‼️CONTENT WARNING: SPOILERS FOR SEASON 4 AND CHAPTER 139‼️

adopting gabi braun headcanons (canonverse)

characters: gf!sasha braus x gn!reader, platonic!gabi braun x gn!reader, fatherly!levi ackerman x gn!reader, platonic!falco grice x gn!reader

warnings: death, angst, hatred for kids (fuck them kids‼️), peepaw levi 😁👍

- uhhhhhh,, your relationship w gabi had a very rocky start. Lol !

- it all started when your friend eren jaeger decided to run away to infiltrate marley causing the survey corps to go get him just as a war was declared between your countries, and then two kids snuck onto the airship you were using to escape and shot your girlfriend. and she died. Lol !

- you had a lot of hatred for gabi in the beginning, and it was understandable

- you blamed her for shooting sasha, but you also blamed yourself for not being able to save her.

- you were a trained medic, you were supposed to save people, and yet you couldnt even save the woman you loved. it was like a slap in the face, like god was playing some cruel joke on you

- you remember sitting against the wall with sasha's blood staining your hands. you could barely process what happened at the time, and then levi came

- he sat next to you, taking a handkerchief out of nowhere seemingly, and just wordlessly wiped your hands down.

- your relationship with the older man was never defined, even today, but you both cared for each other

- the next time you saw gabi, was in that restaurant, niccolo had attacked gabi and falco, injuring them both, and said she killed sasha

- your blood went cold, you felt so many things, the grief you had pushed down in favour of your job, anger, fear, among other things

- niccolo had said there needed to be justice, he said that gabi should die for what she did, he tried to get sasha's father to kill her, and all you did was stand there.

- your body went on autopilot, barely listening to mr. braus' speech, you watched as kaya pointed a knife at gabi, and you listened to her wails of agony as you blindly led mikasa, armin, and gabi to a different room

- you were scared of yourself, for what you were thinking. did you really want a kid to die ? she did kill your girlfriend, the woman you wanted to spend the rest of your life with, the woman that shared her food with you, the woman that held you when you got scared at night, the woman that promised you that after the war you two would live on a farm together, and have a family of your own.

- but she was still a child. she didnt know any better. you were conflicted in your feelings, especially after hearing what niccolo had said, but it all just emphasized what was already known to you. she was a child

- your blood was pounding in your ears, and you could faintly hear gabi asking your comrades if they wanted to kill her. when armin reassured her they didnt, she looked to you and asked "what about them ?"

- you didnt answer her, and continued to lead them down where eren would be meeting you all. you were supposed to drop them off, but eren made you stay, and then a fight broke out

- you dont remember when you did it, but you held gabi in your arms, shielding her from the fight. you think you needed to be held more than she did

- things got more complicated after that, and slowly the hatred you had for sasha's killer went away, until all you had left was a hole in your chest from guilt and sadness.

- at fort salta, you thought you were going to die there, next to your friends. you thought you'd become a mindless titan, like connie's family

- but you didnt, well you did, but only for a short time, and when you turned back, you reunited with your friends

- looking around for gabi, you saw her tackle falco into a hug, which made you smile

- "y/n !" jean called, you remember looking behind you in confusion, he sounded distressed, but you understood why when you saw sasha saluting the three of you

- you felt your legs move on your own, and you ran closer to her, before stopping about a meter away. she was dead, you knew she was dead, but she was there, wearing that goofy smile on her face and looking at you as if you'd hung the stars in the sky

- she looked at you. "you did good." hearing her voice felt like a dream. your mouth felt dry, and your jaw opened and closed like a fish before you felt tears sting your eyes. "i love you."

- she nodded, before looking at the sky. "i know." she replied. sasha looked back at you before giving you a soft smile. "you know what to do now." before she disappeared in the debris

- you knew what to do, so you did it

- you found levi sitting against a rock, and when you leaned down next to him he muttered something. "i saw erwin again. and hange. all of them." you nodded. "i saw sasha." he looked at you, and gave you the closest thing to a smile. "i guess we're both at peace now."

*****

- three years later, you've become a school teacher in paradis, teaching young children how to read, to write, and basic math. you teach them about art and music, and nature. its nice being surrounded by children all day, kids are lovely.

- you live with gabi, falco and levi, in a small house inside wall sina. levi's legs have gotten weaker with time, causing him to use a wheelchair and crutches. he's given up on his dream of a tea shop, but is content with the life he has now.

- gabi and falco have gotten more rowdy with age, but they've both matured quite a bit. they make you proud

- you send letters to sasha's family. kaya is growing up, and has taken over archery just like her sister. niccolo is living with them now.

- you'll never be able to let go of sasha, or what happened to her, but the pain in your chest has dulled immensely. you think about her sometimes, when youre in bed alone, wanting to feel the warmth of her body in your arms, you know you should move on, you get teased about not having a new girlfriend, even levi has made comments about there being "plenty of fish in the sea"

it was a late night, on a friday. you were grading spelling tests at the dining room table, one lone candle being your source of light. your pen moves swiftly across the different pieces of paper, adding check marks or x marks when needed, adding a note at the bottom of each test, before adding a smiley face on all of your students' hard work. it was tedious, but it needed to be done, and you had to remember to bring them in on monday, you couldn't forget like last time.

you heard footsteps coming down the stairs. they were soft, and slow, and at first you thought it was levi but realized it couldn't be since you couldn't hear the soft tapping of his crutches on the stairs. they came down to the bottom and stood there, it was gabi, dressed in a light pink nightgown that came down to her knees, and her disheveled hair in the braid you did for her before bed.

you pushed your reading glasses to the top of your head. "what are you doing up ? it's late."

she shrugged, and walked over to sit across from you at the table. gabi grabbed the stack of papers that you already graded and shuffled through them, giggling when she found a misspelling.

you rolled her eyes. "don't laugh, they're six."

she shook her head. "i was spelling ten times better than this when i was their age."

"uh huh."

"are you calling my bluff ?"

you chuckled. "maybe. you should be in bed though."

"why ? it's not like we have school tomorrow."

you shrugged. "i was thinking we could go on a picnic outside the walls. it gets stuffy in here."

she nodded. "that would be fun."

the silence came back for a while, until you finished grading and set your papers aside.

"you know, i hear you sometimes." she whispered.

you looked at the brunette in confusion. "how do you mean ?"

"when your in bed, sometimes you cry."

you scoffed, and leaned back in your chair. "yeah well, i try to muffle it."

"i don't think ive ever apologized to you," she started. her eyes welled up with tears and her hands shook on the table. her cheeks and nose became pink as she held herself back from crying. "i know i feel bad, and i regret killing her but, i've never actually apologized to you for-"

"don't." you said. you kept your eyes on your lap, you felt your throat growing tight. "please gabi, don't say anything."

"i need to apologize-"

"you don't. you killed her. she's dead, the war is over. it's done. just let it go." you said, your voice wavering.

"have you let it go ?"

your head shot up to her. "i lost the woman i was going to spend the rest of my life with. she promised me a safe home, a farm, and a family. and she promised we'd grow old together. and that didn't happen. i grew up with her, i've known her since i was twelve, we started dating when i was sixteen. of course i haven't let it go, gabi."

gabi looked shocked by your outburst, but nodded. she understood how you felt, and she felt so guilty. "you don't forgive me do you ? i get it, i really do. i'm sorry."

you shook your head. "gabi no, i do. i do forgive you. i just, i can't forget it." you whimpered, tears started streaming down your face and you choked back a sob. "i loved her with all of my heart, i still do, but i don't hate you-"

gabi rolled her eyes, tears coming out uncontrollably now. "you should. i killed her, i ruined your chance of a happy life ! she was your family and i-"

"gabi no !" you exclaimed, cutting her off. at this point you both looked like a mess, and you were worried you woke up the boys. you grabbed her shaking hands in your own and held them to you. "you are my family. you are. so is falco, and so is levi. i forgive you, and i love you with all of my heart." you said, a sad smile on your face. her eyes widened at your words, before she started sobbing.

you got up from the table to come to her side, and held her in your arms as she cried. her arms wrapped around your shoulders while she dug her head into your neck, tickling you with her hair.

you rubbed her back and cradled her head while shushing her. she sobbed out a muffled "i love you so much y/n." that you chuckled at.

"i love you too so much." you whispered back.

it took a long time for gabi to calm down, but when she did you still held her, rocking her and yourself back and forth slightly. you two moved from the chairs down to the floor, funny enough.

you kissed the top of her head before talking, the only noise in the room being your whispers, her sniffles and the living room clock. "you know reiner's coming home soon. are you excited ?" she nodded against your skin and sniffled again, clearing her throat too.

"i hope he brings me a gift or something." she whispered back, her voice hoarse. it made you laugh, and you had to cover your mouth to keep quiet.

"they're going to shiganshina district for a couple of days, to visit mikasa and eren, and then mikasa will come with them to the capital."

"do you miss her ?" she asked.

"so much. i miss all of them, but mikasa is a close friend of mine, she holds a special place in my heart."

"do you think you and levi will go to the meetings between the marley ambassadors and the jaegerists ?" she asked.

"maybe, if they feel as though they really need us."

you sighed through your nose, which was a bit stuffy from crying. "after we turned back into humans, i saw sasha again."

gabi lifted her head up from where it was resting on your shoulder. "what ?"

"yeah, i saw her ghost i think." you looked down on her with a smile on your face. "she told me i knew what i needed to do, and then i went and got levi and you and falco." you paused for a moment, thinking about how you would word what you were thinking. "i did what i needed to do, i got my family together." gabi's eyes widened. "sasha promised me a family, and although this wasn't the family i had envisioned, it's still a family nonetheless. i believe her last gift to me was you, falco, and levi. and i am so grateful to have you all in my life."

gabi smiled before hugging you. she opened her mouth to say something-

"oi !" a deep voice came from the top of the stairs. "you two woke me up with all of your crying. go to bed." before your heard the creaking of the floorboards and the closing of a door.

you chuckled before standing up, pulling gabi with you. you walked her to her room, and even tucked her in, you both exchanged 'i love yous' and 'goodnights' before you retreated from her bedroom, closing the door behind you.

across the hall, levi stood leaned on his doorway with his arms crossed together. "that family speech, that was cute." he commented. you rolled your eyes at the older man. "were you listening in on a private conversation ?" you teased.

the ex-captain scoffed and looked away. "go to bed y/n. we have a picnic to go on tomorrow." before closing his door.

you chuckled to yourself, remembering how you brought up the idea to him that morning, and he only replied with a curt "we'll see" before sipping on his morning tea.

you went back to your own room, and got into your bed. you turned on your side, and looked at the space you always left open for sasha, and brushed your hand against the pillow.

"goodnight love."

uhhhhh doesnt feel like my best work but whatevs 😁👍 enjoy my comeback to tumblr 🤩🙏

requests open mfs ‼️

#attack on titan #attack on titan fanfiction #attack on titan x reader #erwin smith #hange zoe #levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi x gn!reader #sasha braus #sasha blouse #sasha braus x reader #sasha blouse x reader #niccolo aot #falco grice #gabi braun #gabi x falco #chapter 139

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css1992 · 3 years

Text

Guilty Pleasure

[Porn AU]

Summary: Peter and Beck used to be a power couple in the porn industry, but after Beck dumps him, Peter is forced to start over. With no money, no family and nowhere to go, he doesn’t have much choice other than to keep doing porn, so he joins Just4Fans to get back on his feet and then one day he gets a very generous tip from someone under the username of YKWIM.

All the warnings listed on Part I apply.

Read on AO3

Part I / Part II / Part III / Part IV / Part V / Part VI / Part VII / Part VIII / Part IX / Part X / Part XI / Epilogue

-x-

As it turned out, Tony did make great pancakes. Peter woke up the next day to the smell of them, and shyly headed in the general direction it was coming from, until he reached the kitchen. Tony was standing there, wearing impeccable gray dress pants, a crisp white shirt and a green tie, as he added batter to a frying pan. Peter supposed that was what heaven would look like when he died.

“Oh, hey, kitten, you’re up.” He grinned at him, who smiled in return, nodding. He had put his clothes from the night before back on, and he was glad he did, because Tony was dressed to the nines and it would have been awkward if he had shown up in just his boxers or something. “Sleep well?”

“I did, thanks.” And it was surprisingly true. Peter hadn’t had such a good night’s sleep in a while, he supposed he missed sleeping next to someone. He did share a bed with Beck for two years, so it felt awfully lonely to sleep by himself. “Are you headed to work?” He asked as he sat on a stool by the kitchen island and Tony nodded guiltily, fixing two plates of pancakes.

“I’m so sorry, I tried to make arrangements to get the morning off, but duty calls.” To his credit, he did look genuinely sorry, so Peter thought maybe it wasn’t just an excuse to get rid of him. Maybe.

“It’s okay, I have to be home soon, or my friends will worry.” Which wasn’t exactly true, but not exactly a lie either. They wouldn’t notice he was gone until lunchtime, since they both had work or class in the morning, but when they did notice, they would freak out.

“I thought you lived by yourself?” Tony sounded interested as he sat beside him by the kitchen counter and pushed a plate his way. Peter thanked him, taking a bite of the surprisingly good pancake.

“I do, but we live in the same building, so we’re always checking in on each other.” Tony hummed, nodding, and they were silent for a little while, until the older man spoke up again.

“Can I ask about your relatives?” He felt his eyes on him and knew that, much like the night before, he was testing the waters, making sure Peter was comfortable with that subject.

“Sure. I don’t have any, though. I’m an orphan, I’ve lived in foster homes for most of my life.” Peter didn’t really mind talking about that period – it was basically all he knew. He was too little when his parents died and was only ten when Ben and May passed away, so the foster homes were where he made most of his memories.

“Oh. I’m so sorry to hear that.” Tony winced, maybe thinking he had touched a sensitive subject after all, but Peter smiled and shrugged.

“It’s okay, it was a long time ago. My friends are like family to me now, so I’m good.”

“I’m glad you have them.” Again, he gave him that genuine smile that made Peter believe he was actually glad to hear that. Like he actually cared. “So… Can I see you again? Or was this just a one time thing?” The older man turned his body to face Peter, who froze for a second with the mug held to his lips, mid-sip.

“Oh, uhm…” Peter almost chocked on the coffee, not quite believing his ears. He honestly thought that the older man would slowly disappear from his life. Or maybe not even that slowly. Peter figured he had gotten what he wanted, so why would he stick around? “I mean, sure. If you want.” He said, like an idiot, and Tony raised a brow.

“I really do, but I don’t mean to pressure you, so if you want to say no and just go back to what we had, that’s okay. Or not even that, if you prefer. Just say the word and I’ll get out of your hair.” He sounded honest enough, but Peter quickly shook his head, eyes wide.

“No, it’s okay, I definitely wanna do this again.” He assured him, and Tony seemed satisfied with his answer, expression softening as he nodded.

After breakfast, the older man insisted on driving him home and when they arrived at his building, he felt a little awkward as to how to say goodbye, but Tony made it easier by simply leaning in and kissing him softly on the lips, one hand stroking his knee in a gentle caress.

“I’ll call you later, kitten.” He promised and Peter just sighed quietly, feeling dizzy.

He was a little out of it for the rest of the day, both Ned and MJ asked what was wrong with him in separate occasions, but he just said he was tired from his new routine. They had dinner together and when he went back to his apartment that night, he was just mildly surprised that he actually got a call from Tony. It was an innocent, sweet phone call, too. He did not expect that, to be honest, they had been sexting for two months and they had actual sex the previous night, so he kind of expected Tony to just go for it.

But no.

He asked about his day, about his friends, he told him about his own day, then somehow they ended up talking a little bit about Peter’s childhood, his parents, aunt May and Uncle Ben, it was just a really nice chat, which he appreciated. Not that he didn’t enjoy talking dirty to Tony, but the fact that he called just to have a normal conversation with no second intentions was, well. Nice.

He didn’t really know where they were going with that, probably nowhere, really, Peter was an ex-porn star, Tony was an A-list celebrity, a billionaire and a fucking Avenger, so there was literally zero chance they could evolve to something else. They would probably just go out a few more times, have mind-blowing awesome sex, and then go their separate ways. And Peter was okay with that.

It was fine. Really. It was just fine.

And it was for the best, otherwise how would he explain to Ned and MJ that he was dating Tony Fucking Stark? It would be a nightmare. MJ would kill him and lecture him on how big corporations like Stark Industries were destroying their way of life and Ned would pass out – and possibly die – so, yeah. It was a good thing they had no real future together.

That didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy it while it lasted, though. Tony was really nice, a true gentleman, a good conversationalist, a great kisser and an amazing lay. So whatever he could get out of those moments they had together, he would. Everything was perfectly fine and under control. And did he mention fine?

The next morning, he woke up early and went for a jog around the block. He had been experimenting with different types of workout routines, but he thought he might stick with jogging and yoga for a while, he was even looking for a yoga studio close to his building so he could start training more seriously. When he got back, he took a long shower, made breakfast and spent a few hours answering people on Just4Fans, then posted a few pictures there, linked it to his twitter account and let people know on Instagram.

Tony texted him mid-morning and Peter blushed like a teenager when he read his message.

“Just saw the new pics, you look stunning as always, baby, but I have to admit I’m spoiled now, pictures are not enough. Can’t wait to see you again. Dinner tomorrow?”

“Flattery will get you everywhere, sir, keep it coming.” He smiled to himself and bit his lower lip, excited by the prospect of seeing Tony again so soon. “Tomorrow sounds great, where are we going? Should I start stressing about the dress code?”

“I was thinking you could come over. Did I mention that I’m a great cook? Pancakes aren’t my only specialty.” Peter felt butterflies in his stomach. It was stupid, of course, but he just found it endearing that Tony wanted to cook for him.

“I’d love to. I’m curious about your cooking, your pancakes did taste fantastic.” Just the thought of that morning and, more importantly, the night before that, made his mind wander, as a quiet sigh left his lips.

“Prepare to be blown away.”

“You’re so humble, I love that about you.” The young man smiled to himself.

“Thank you, kitten, it’s one of my many qualities.” Peter laughed at his antics.

They settled on a time and Tony insisted on picking him up, even though it was obviously inconvenient since they were having dinner at his place, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer, so Peter gave in. They talked a little more, but soon Tony had to go back to work and now that the younger man knew exactly who he was, he imagined it was a lot of work.

He went on with his Saturday – in the afternoon, he took a few pictures and videos with different sets of lingerie he bought with MJ when they went to Victoria’s Secret, and that should be enough to last him at least a few days. At dinnertime, he went down to his friends’ apartment, as usual, and they were both home.

“What’s up, nerd,” MJ greeted from the couch, but didn’t raise her eyes from her phone.

“Hey, Pete, dinner is almost ready,” Ned called from the kitchen island.

“Want me to set the table?” He walked over to where Ned was fishing a plate out of the microwave.

“Sure.”

Peter knew his way around the kitchen, so he got to work, placing the plates and cutlery on the small, square table by the counter.

“Hey, are you up for a Star Trek marathon tomorrow night? I don’t have any classes next Monday morning, we can stay up late.”

“Oh, uhm. I –“ Fuck, he hadn’t really thought of an excuse for why he wouldn’t be having dinner with them. “I can’t, because…” He noticed that MJ had finally raised her eyes from her phone, only to stare at him suspiciously. “I have this thing, uhm, on my Just4Fans… Tomorrow night.”

“Can’t you just schedule the posts?” MJ asked from the couch, because of-fucking-course she knew about that.

“Uhm, yeah, I can, but – uhm. It’s a live stream. I’m live streaming tomorrow for the first time. It’s good for tips and stuff, so. Yeah. I’ve already let everybody know, I can’t cancel.” He gave them an apologetic smile, trying to look convincing, but he was pretty sure he just looked like a nervous wreck.

“Oh. Ok, then.” Ned shrugged and didn’t seem bothered at all, but MJ kept staring at him from the couch, like she could smell his bullshit from a mile away. She didn’t say anything, though, for which he was grateful.

The next morning, he woke up early and decided to skip his usual jog around the block and just did a short yoga session in his living room, warmed by the morning sun that flooded his apartment at that time. He had lunch with his friends and spent the afternoon with them, but left early with the excuse that he had to get ready for his “live stream”.

When the older man texted to say he was waiting outside, Peter was already showered and dressed and skipped downstairs two steps at a time. He didn’t know what he was supposed to wear to a billionaire’s house, but he decided casual was probably fine, so he put on a pair of light blue jeans and a light pink, thin sweater.

Tony was driving a low-profile, black SUV and he got out of the car when Peter stepped outside the building. He had a baseball cap and tinted glasses on, dark blue jeans, a Metallica t-shirt and sneakers, and if Peter didn’t know it was him, he would never have thought that was actually Tony Stark.

“Hey, gorgeous, looking good.” Tony didn’t think twice before reaching out to pull him closer by the hips, stealing a chaste kiss from his lips. Peter blushed and completely forgot he should be worried that Ned or MJ might see them if they came downstairs for something, or even if they looked out the living room window. He wrapped his arms around the older man’s neck and deepened the kiss.

“Thanks, but you should get your eyes checked.” He joked as he let go, taking a small step back.

“Yeah, I think so too, I think constantly staring at such beauty is taking a toll on my eyesight, I’m an old man, after all.” Tony pulled him by the chin and stole yet another kiss. When he pulled away, Peter shook his head and laughed.

“Oh my God. Seriously, do you practice these lines in the mirror or something?” He had a feeling that if it was anyone else saying half the things Tony said to him daily, he would find it corny and possibly annoying, but somehow the older man made everything sound charming, sweet, sexy, endearing – hell, everything at once. And he always knew what to say to make Peter’s knees go weak, it was unnerving sometimes.

“No, you just inspire me daily, baby.” He gave him a charming smile, as he opened the door and gestured for Peter to get in the car.

The ride to Tony’s place was filled with the sound of the older man humming along to the music playing. Peter didn’t recognize any of the songs, it was a classic rock playlist, but then he heard a familiar beat and thought it was a great opportunity to stick his foot so deep inside his mouth he almost choked.

“I love Led Zeppelin!” He didn’t exactly love Led Zeppelin and he was quite sure he had just heard a cover of that song, not the original version, but he thought he’d sound cool if he said that. When he looked over, though, Tony was laughing his head off. Peter blushed a deep crimson, eyes widening as he realized he must have said something incredibly dumb.

“Oh, you’re not joking.” Finally seeming to realize that the younger man wasn’t laughing along with him, Tony turned down the volume, as they approached Stark Tower’s garage entrance. “That’s Back in Black by AC/DC, kitten. But hey, I love Zeppelin, too, who doesn’t?” He smiled warmly, looking at him sideways, and Peter nodded.

“Oh, right. Yeah. Of course.” Fuck his life. Of course he had to make a complete fool of himself right at the beginning of the night. He wanted to jump out the window from embarrassment, but it would only add to his humiliation, since Tony had already parked and got out of the car.

The older man opened the door for him and Peter avoided eyes contact, as he led him to the elevator. He could still feel his cheeks burning on the ride up, his head was starting to hurt from shame. Was that a thing?

“Hey, don’t be like this.” Tony pulled him into a loose hug, kissing his temple with a soft smile on his lips. “It was an honest mistake. Besides, I wouldn’t be able to identify whatever it is you kids listen to these days.”

It was oddly comforting to hear that. Even though he knew Tony wasn’t trying to be mean to him back in the car, it was hard not to feel attacked in situations like that. Beck always tried to make him feel dumb, inferior and juvenile whenever he got the chance.

So he rested his head on Tony’s shoulder and nodded slowly. He was going to say something like “don’t worry, I’m fine” but it got lost somewhere in the back of his throat when the older man held him a little tighter and stroked his hair.

The whole interaction lasted merely a few seconds, soon the elevator doors opened to the familiar sight of Tony’s living room, looking just as impeccable as it did a couple of nights earlier. The older man gestured for Peter to lead the way and he did, paying closer attention to the details, since he was a little too nervous to do it the last time he was there.

What he realized when he took a look around, was that the penthouse didn’t look lived in at all. It was all glass and metal, shiny floors and sophisticated furniture, black and gray decoration – it looked ready to be featured in one of those shows that listed the most beautiful houses in the world, but it didn’t look like a place he would like to go back to at the end of the day.

“You don’t spend a lot of time here, do you?” Peter asked, as Tony led them in the direction he remembered the kitchen and the dining room were.

“That obvious, huh?” The older man winced and Peter flushed, realizing he might have been a little rude in his observation. “But yeah, when I’m home, I spend most of my time down in the workshop.”

“Ah, the famous workshop. I suppose if I were to visit right now there would be pictures of me hanging on every wall?” He joked, remembering that Tony had once told him that he would hang his pictures in the workshop and never get any work done.

“I mean, not every wall…” He turned to him and winked, leaving the younger man a little unsure if he meant it or if he was just messing around. Sometimes it was hard to tell with the man’s sarcastic sense of humor. “I’ll give you a tour after dinner.” He promised, when they finally reached the dining room.

The table was set in a simple manner, for what Peter was glad, it made him feel more comfortable and at ease. Tony pulled out a chair for him then headed to the kitchen, which was separated from the dining room only by a long, wide counter, where the had breakfast the other day.

The man came back with wine, pouring two glasses for them, then he started placing the dishes on the table. There was mashed potatoes, grilled veggies and roast chicken, and the smell was to die for, Peter’s stomach rumbled and he wasn’t even that hungry.

“Voilà. This was my favorite meal as a kid, my grandma used to make this for me all the time when I spent summers with her.” He took a seat across from Peter, looking at him expectantly. The younger man found his enthusiasm amusing, so he fixed a plate under Tony’s eager supervision. “Tell me what you think. But be nice, I haven’t cooked this in a while, it might be a little dry.”

Peter took a bite of the chicken first, and it took him a few moments to feel the explosion of flavors on his tongue. The meat was tender and juicy, cooked to perfection, and the seasoning tasted inexplicably like home – it didn’t taste like something he could order at a restaurant, let alone a frozen meal he could buy at the supermarket. He then tried the mashed potatoes along with the grilled veggies and almost cried.

“Tony, this is so good, have you considered dropping everything and starting a restaurant?” he gushed, taking another bite of the chicken only to confirm that, yes, that was probably what paradise tasted like.

“Don’t exaggerate. I already like you plenty, kitten, you don’t need to flatter my cooking skills.” Tony smiled, shaking his head lightly, and if Peter didn’t know any better, he might think he was blushing.

“I’m not, this is seriously the best homemade meal I’ve ever eaten,” he insisted and Tony cocked his head to the side, with a confused smile and a frown

“What the hell have they been feeding you, kid?” He asked and Peter chuckled.

“Well, I spent most of my life in foster care and I was never lucky enough to end up in a family that liked to cook.” The families he stayed with weren’t bad – not compared to some of the horror stories he heard from other foster kids he met in the past – they just weren’t good. They provided him with the bare minimum for survival, so water and enough food to avoid starvation. “And uncle Ben and aunt May, dude… They couldn’t cook for shit.” He laughed, remembering Aunt May’s date loaf, which was probably the worst thing he had ever tasted in his life.

“Well, now I feel obligated to feed you properly,” Tony announced, and Peter quickly shook his head, feeling his face grow red for the hundredth time that night.

“Oh, no, you don’t need to, I wasn’t–”

“I want to, if I’m your only source of good, homemade food, then I’m taking this seriously, kitten.” He pointed a fork at him as he spoke. “And you can help me cook, what do you say? That way I can teach you a thing or two so you won’t starve to death.” Again, the idea that Tony wanted to cook for him was too sweet. He was an incredibly busy guy who probably didn’t even cook for himself, but he was willing to waste that kind of time on Peter. It just–

“Sounds amazing.” He smiled, nodding, and the older man’s face softened when their eyes met.

“Good.” He took a sip of wine and topped off both of their glasses. “Did you tell your friends you were coming here today?” That seemed like a polite way to ask if they knew about him, and Peter wasn’t sure what kind of answer he was expecting.

“No, they think I’m home.” He watched the man’s face, waiting for his reaction, but there was none, so Peter felt like he should explain himself further. “After my ex – they’re just a little too overprotective, so, you know. I just don’t want them to worry.” Tony raised his eyebrows and Peter’s eyes widened, realizing what that might have sounded like. “Not that I think you’re my – that we’re – I mean, I’m not assuming anything, I just meant –“

“Hey, it’s okay, I know what you mean.” He reached across the table to squeeze one of his shaking hands. “Your friends sound like good people, by the way. You’re lucky to have them.”

“Thanks.” Tony smoothly changed the subject and started talking about his summers with his grandmother and how she taught him everything he knew about cooking. He said that was the reason why his repertoire consisted only of comfort food and Peter thought that was the sweetest thing he had learned about him so far.

Once dinner was done with, Tony kept his promise and gave him a tour. The place looked like a labyrinth made of glass and steel, there were five floors, several rooms with various purposes, but everything seemed sterile and impersonal, like nobody ever stepped foot in any of those places, which somehow made them look lifeless and even a little scary – like a ghost town of sorts. Peter couldn’t help but think that his tiny, mostly empty apartment felt more like a home than all five floors of Tony’s.

Well, all except for one.

“And this is the workshop,” Tony declared with a flourish when the glass doors slid open, revealing a wide, open space filled with worktables, holographic screens, robots, cars, Iron Man suits, and so many other things he had never seen before in his life. “Sorry about the mess.” He didn’t sound sorry, though, he sounded happy and proud, and Peter thought it was the only place in the penthouse that felt weirdly cozy and homey. To his relief – and secret disappointment –, there were no pictures of him in lingerie hanging on the walls.

“This is amazing…” Peter breathed out, realizing that that was Tony’s actual home. There was even a kitchenette in a corner, and next to it there was a small, cozy couch in front of a reasonably sized TV and a fluffy rug. He supposed Tony took naps there, too, because there was also a blanket draped over the back of the couch.

He walked over there, followed closely by the older man, and took a seat, sinking into the soft pillows.

“I think this is my favorite room.” He blinked up at Tony, who regarded him silently for a few moments, and Peter started to think he had fucked up again. “What?” He whispered, but his answer came in the form of a kiss. He immediately melted into it, all worries flying out the window as he opened his mouth to taste him better.

Tony pushed him gently until he was lying on the couch with his larger body on top of him, and he’d be lying if he said that wasn’t the best feeling in the world.

It was a tight fit, but they made it work, as pieces of clothes were thrown to a pile on the floor; as skin met skin and made the room feel unbearably hot; as hands explored and mouths danced together and teeth left secret claiming marks on eager necks; as he felt, once again, full and sate and whole, and then spent and lax and dazed in the best of ways.

Suddenly, what had been frantic and passionate became slow and soft, what had been loud and messy became quiet and wholesome.

The room was silent then, as their bodies slowly cooled down. Tony was lying on his back on the couch and Peter was lying on top of him, chests flush together, breathing in and out in sync. He felt a blanket being draped over his shoulders and he all but melted into the body underneath him.

“Can I ask you a question?” He whispered quietly into Tony’s neck, after several minutes, not sure if the older man had fallen asleep, his breathing was slow and constant.

“Baby, you could ask me anything right now, there’s no way I’d say no to you.” He answered right away and Peter giggled, pushing himself up on Tony’s chest to look down at him.

“Why did you want to meet me? For real?” Tony, whose eyes had been closed until that moment, opened them to gaze at him. He was quiet for a while, as one of his hands found the small of Peter’s back under the blanket and started rubbing circles on his skin.

“I liked talking to you.” He answered quietly, eyes locked on his. At first, Peter thought that was all the answer he was getting, and he would have been fine with that, but Tony kept talking. “You made me feel alive again.” His heart raced and his breath hitched in shock. He blinked down at the older man, who raised his free hand to tuck some of Peter’s curls behind his ear. “You see, things were… rough. After Thanos.” He remembered the funny story Tony told him in the restaurant a few nights earlier and was surprised to see such grief in the man’s eyes. “I had these nightmares. Anxiety attacks. Couldn’t sleep most nights.”

Peter reached out and ran a finger across the man’s forehead, trying to smooth down the frown that had formed there. Tony smiled, grabbing that hand to give it a little kiss.

“Pepper wanted me to give up the suit for good, said it was killing me and she wouldn’t stand by and watch it happen. On top of that, my relationship with some of the Avengers was strained, to say the least. I thought retiring from the Avengers would be enough to solve most of my problems, but I was wrong and everything just kind of snowballed from there. So what I mean to say is that by the time I met you, I was… Fucking exhausted.”

“Tony...” He frowned, heart clenching, because he could hear the pain in the man’s voice and how much he meant every word and it was devastating.

“I looked forward to talking to you every night, you know. Still do. I don’t why you got under my skin like that, but you did. So when I said I needed to meet you, I meant I needed to meet you.” He smiled and Peter’s heart skipped a beat. The whole confession was almost too much to handle, too much to believe. At the same time, he knew what Tony meant because he had also been in a very dark place when they met and, somehow, talking to him brought some light back into his life. “My turn?”

“Sure.” Peter smiled, entwining his fingers on Tony’s chest and resting his chin on top of them, looking at the older man’s face.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to answer, I have a feeling this might be a bit of a touchy subject for you.” He cautioned, and Peter gulped. He knew what was coming and he thought about not answering, but Tony had been honest with him, so he took a deep breath and nodded.

“O-okay.”

“How did you end up doing porn? Not that it’s bad or anything, you just sounded so uncomfortable the other night... Like you’re ashamed of it, or regretful.” Tony asked carefully, one of his hands was still rubbing soothing circles on the skin of his back.

“Hm… Well. It’s complicated. I guess the short answer is: I was young and dumb and my older boyfriend convinced me it was a good idea. Then he left me and took all the money and everything we’ve ever built with him and – and now the only thing I know how to do is porn, so… Yeah.” It was a very short version of what happened, but very accurate as well. Tony frowned, raising an eyebrow.

“What do you mean he took everything?”

“He told me to pack a bag and leave. Whatever I couldn’t fit in my bag stayed behind, as well as the social media accounts, the channel, the money… He locked me out of everything.” Peter’s voice grew weaker as he spoke, because he felt so fucking ashamed. Of everything. Of admitting he let a man like Quentin into his life, that he made so many terrible decisions just so he could stay with him, only to be treated like that in the end. It was fucking humiliating.

Tony sat up in a haste, forcing him to do the same, until they were both facing each other on the couch. The older man’s eyes were wide, he looked so shocked it was almost funny. Almost.

“Peter, that’s – why – wait, and what do you mean he convinced you to do porn? Is it not something that you want to do?” Peter dropped his gaze for a second, not really sure what the true answer to that question was. If he was honest with himself, most times he just avoided thinking too much about what he was doing.

“Well… I don’t hate it anymore, I guess,” he settled on that, after a few minutes of silence. “Sometimes I even enjoy it now, like… Like when we talk,” he mumbled the last part, raising his eyes again to look into Tony’s warm ones, and the older man looked back at him with – what? Worry? Regret? Guilt?

“So you hated it? Before?” He insisted, and Peter knew he could still choose not to answer if he wanted to, Tony wouldn’t force it out of him, but still – Peter wanted to tell him. He wanted Tony to know.

To know him. All of him. Even the parts that hurt.

“I did.” He whispered, holding back the tears that filled his eyes when the confession left his lips, because that was something that he never wanted to acknowledge. It took all he had to hold Tony’s gaze and not look away in shame. “I just felt… kinda shitty sometimes. Like… I wasn’t even human, just an object to be used and abused and disposed of.” He continued, swallowing a lump in his throat. He couldn’t read Tony’s expression, but his eyes were gentle as always, there was no judgment there. “I didn’t feel like my body belonged to me anymore.” Saying that aloud came almost as a surprise to Peter himself. He always tried so hard not to think about those feelings he almost believed they didn’t really exist, even though they were always there at the back of his mind.

“Pete...” Tony cupped his face in both of his hands, he looked so torn, it almost made Peter regret telling him.

“I’m doing okay now, I promise. I’m in control of my body, my choices, my money. I’m fine now, really,” he vowed and Tony pulled his head closer and pressed their lips together – it wasn’t even a kiss, just a caress.

“I can help you.” He offered with determination, holding his face in his hands, looking straight into his eyes and they were burning with anger, but Peter knew it wasn’t directed to him. “I can help you get everything back, I can make his life a living hell for doing that to you, I can –“

“Please, don’t,” He winced, shaking his head firmly, lifting his hands to hold Tony’s wrists, feeling his pulse and how fast his heart was beating. “Okay? It’s in the past. It’s over now. I don’t want to – relive it, I just want to forget.” His heart raced when the older man closed his eyes and started shaking his head. “Tony?”

“Peter, you can’t ask me to –“

“I am asking you leave it alone.” He insisted, a little desperately, but Tony’s face was locked in a frown and panic started creeping up on him. He couldn’t bear to think about confronting Beck, having to see him again, maybe talk to him again, he just wanted to move on, to forget he ever existed. His eyes burned and he closed them, trying to get his breath under control, but he could feel his hands shaking. “Please, please, don’t make me –“

“Hey, no, no, no.” Tony gathered him in his arms, rubbing his shoulders in a soothing way. “I’m sorry, no, I would never force you to do anything, okay? It’s your choice.” He cupped his face in his hands again, peppering kisses on his cheeks and forehead. Peter started calming down slowly, and even laughed a little when the man’s beard tickled his nose. “You know that I see you, right? And I mean I see you, Peter Parker, not the persona in the videos or the pictures, and you sure seem pretty fucking human to me, kid. You know that, right?” Tony kept holding his head in between his hands, forcing Peter to look back at him, which wasn’t necessary, he couldn’t look away if he tried.

He smiled, nodding slowly, leaning in to kiss his lips. The older man lay back down, pulling him along, until they were back to their original position. He rested his head on Tony’s chest and closed his eyes, sighing in relief.

He felt Tony wrap his arms around his waist, holding him tight, and he thought to himself that if heaven looked like Tony making breakfast in the morning and tasted like his cooking in the evening, it certainly felt like holding him at night.

-x-

Tag list (please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed from the list): @sadachmesarthim @iamnotparticularlyproud @staticwhispersinthedark @bluestarker

Sorry for the long chapter, guys, it really got away from me 🥴 Only four more chapters to goo ✨✨

#starker #peter parker x tony stark

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writingbakery · 4 years

Text

“what’s new, pussycat?”

this work is my absolute pride & joy, one that i hold very near & dear to my heart! it was previously written for a different fandom, & ive reworked it to fit here. i hope you love it as much as i do, & yes - there will be more parts to this story! ✨taglist; @katsukisprincess @secondhand-trash @redbeanteax @monst @shinhoetoshi @shinsouzone @togasknifes

[pairing; panther familiar! hitoshi shinso x green witch gn! reader]

[warnings; fluff, meet-cutes, magical au, bitchy witches, soft words, strangers to lovers]

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

for a green witch in a relatively small town, you’ve got a pretty good life.

you’re not the most powerful witch around; your talents are more centered around healing, crafting potions & spells, but you don’t mind. you like helping people, whisking away their problems & leaving them happier than when they walked into your little shop.

your shop is perfectly situated right at the forest line at the end of town, making it easy for you to restock your supply. you don’t get many customers, but you treat everyone like they’re most important, focusing on what they need & providing them with just what they’ve asked for. you don’t have many friends, most of the other witches not thinking much of your talents or your profession - they were all more modern witches, using electricity & technology to help others - but the ones you do have treat you nothing but kindly.

you’ve got everything you need in your little shop; a tiny apartment just above it, a loyal customer base, & the forest to soothe your worries.

the only thing you don’t have is a familiar.

you turned twenty six months ago, the age at which every witch receives their familiar. sometimes, it happens sooner, sometimes it takes a little longer. you’re just a hint impatient.

you’ve been ready for your familiar since your powers emerged at six years old, little flowers & vines bursting from chubby fingers & small palms. your friends even had a betting pool set up, sero swearing that you would get a kitty cat, & kirishima insisting it would be a rabbit.

you don’t care what your familiar is. you just want to meet them.

you’ve nagged your mother more than enough over the years, whining & complaining at your lack of a companion - both the animal aspect of them, & the human. familiars often became their witches’ best friends, & on most occasions, have fallen in love with them.

it’s a romantic concept, really. two magical beings, tied together forever by their shared powers, falling in love.

you’ve had dreams about it. kaminari makes fun of you for it whenever he can.

still, you don’t need to fall in love with your familiar. you love them already for supporting & adding to your magic, even if you haven’t met yet. you just know you’re going to be the best of friends.

you also side with sero. you’re definitely hoping for a kitty.

you alway tell your friends you don’t mind being patient, but secretly, you wish your familiar would speed things up a bit.

the other witches in town don’t tease you outright, a bit more poised than that, but you’ve heard more than enough whispered giggles of “bet it’s a fly, & it just can’t find them” & “maybe [y/n]’s just too weak for one”. you know they consider you a joke, a laughingstock, but you do your best to ignore them, burying your head in your spellbooks & inventing new potion strains.

you’re good at what you do, & that’s all that matters. but with a familiar, at least you’d fit in. you’re not expecting anything huge, not like the wolf inasa got, or the pheonix momo was gifted. you just want something that’ll care for you, help with your little tasks & fill the hole in your heart.

you even have a little side room set up in your shop for them, complete with a small fluffy bed & lots of pillows. kaminari had wrinkled his nose at the setup. “what if they don’t like all the fluff?” he’d asked - his familiar, an overexcited ring tailed lemur named mina, had absolutely destroyed the setup kaminari made for her, choosing to snuggle the taller witch in her human form every night. you had a separate betting pool with kirishima & bakugou about when those two would finally start dating.

mostly, you just hope your familiar won’t be disappointed with you. you aren’t the fastest on a broomstick, or the smartest with spells. your potions are good, but they take you a while to brew, & you don’t get that many customers. you’re definitely not the best witch in town, but you try your best, & you hope that counts for something.

it ends up counting for a lot, even if you don’t realize.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

you’re looking through your little vials & plants one day, crafting a rejuvenation potion for mrs. parks - she’s got a garden to maintain if she wants to win first place in the landscaping competition next week, & at 85 it doesn’t always come naturally - when you realize you’re clean out of starflower. the pretty little orange & yellow foliage always added an extra boost to your energy potions, & you chance a glance out of your shop windows. it’s a nice day, sunny but not too hot, & you easily tug on your jacket & basket to gather some from the forest.

the air is warm, floaty with the smell of spring & you bask in the pleasant heat of the sun as you walk. the forest is unusually quiet, a sort of energetic thrum hovering just under the surface & normally, you would be concerned. but the day is so lovely, the warmth seeping into your bones & you brush it off as a slight imbalance in the woods.

you find the right clearing relatively quickly, sitting cross legged amidst the flowers & beginning to pluck them. you coo to the brightly colored petals gently, asking them to feel safe, protected. you wouldn’t hurt them, nor waste them unnecessarily. they were headed to a good purpose, & you reassure them as such as they make their way into your basket.

the already quiet air stills suddenly, birds silent in the trees & leaves pausing their ruffling. you shut your eyes & soaks up the sudden silence, an odd sense of calm settling over your body before you open them again.

a pair of amethyst violet eyes stare back at you, barely ten feet away from your face.

you open your mouth to scream, but let out nothing but air; your breath seems caught in your throat, lodged painfully deep. the creature in front of you is still, black fur gleaming glossy in the afternoon sun - a panther, twice the size of any normal big cat, sharp fangs glinting in its large mouth. you just stare, frozen & wide eyed.

the panther tilts its head at you inquisitively, letting out a sharp exhale through its velvety - almost cute? - black nose. you do scream this time, a barely there squeak that youd defend to your dying day as a very aggressive yell.

& then you pass clean out, slumping to the cool forest floor.

above you, the panther simply snorts, rolling bright purple eyes in mild annoyance as it curls its lithe form around your unconscious body, settling in for a nap.

it protects you from harm, patiently waiting for you to wake up.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

you wake up confused & a little dizzy.

you’ve only been out about an hour, but already the sun sits lower in the sky, a chill sweeping through the quiet wood. you’re disoriented, taking a few moments to remember where you are, & why. youre warm despite the cool forest air, body swathed in silky softness. you burrow deeper into the warmth, sighing softly as you toe the line between sleep & awake.

then you remember the panther.

shooting straight up from the dirt, you look around wildly, all traces of sleepiness gone as you take in your surroundings.

the panther lays curled around you like a warm blanket, keeping you tucked up against its shoulder with massive black paws crossed in front of your legs. it’s fast asleep, not even stirring as you shift a little to study its face.

gold runes run from the tips of each large, silky ear, trailing down either side of its face to its long whiskers. each rune matches one on your own arms, elegantly winding down your smooth skin. a little flutter settles in your chest.

this is your familiar.

you run one slim finger down the sides of the panther’s sleeping face, gentle & light as you trace over the marks that mirror the ones you’ve had since birth. it’s a little nerve wracking, a little unreal.

you’re so awestruck you don’t feel a pair of sharp violet eyes tracking your every move, looking just a little fond.

you start a little when the panther stretches, long heavy limbs arcing out into the air as it yawns. you get a good eyeful of sharp, gleaming white fangs & an impossibly cute pink tongue before the panther is staring at you again, seemingly waiting for your next move.

oh right.

hastily clambering to your feet, you stand in front of the lying animal, just about level with its head. you swallow a little nervously, shifting from foot to foot as you look up into bright, curious eyes.

“a-are you my familiar?” you ask, immediately cursing yourself for stammering & asking stupid questions. you’re supposed to have your shit together, you’re the witch here.

the panther seems unfazed, if not a little amused, as it nods once, then twice, eyes twinkling in the sunlight. your own eye twitches.

you’ve got a familiar. a panther familiar. you, [y/n l/n], who can’t fly a broomstick straight & nearly burnt down your shop crafting a potion last week.

suddenly everything seems a whole lot less simple than it was before.

bracing your hands against your knees to catch your breath, you let your mind go wild, running through a million thoughts at once. what would the other witches say? what would your friends say? how the fuck was this panther going to fit inside your house?

you don’t have a single answer for any of them that won’t send you into a panic.

your stomach ends up deciding for you, the low rumble of it breaking the tense silence. the panther actually does roll its eyes at you this time, standing to its full - very, very tall height & moving to kneel at your side. it motions towards its back a little impatiently, & you scramble to climb on.

you can feel lean, powerful muscle underneath you as the panther begins to walk through the forest, quickly shifting through the underbrush towards town.

it’s much quicker than you walking on your own, & you appreciate that.

you know you’re going to get plenty of stares once you hit town, & you’ve already got a plan set: make it through quickly, avoid questions, & once you’ve got the both of you locked up in your shop, the panther can shift to its human form & introduce themselves. simple.

the second you step foot - & paw - into the town, you know you’re screwed.

all of the townsfolk are staring wide eyed, giving the pair of you a very wide berth as the panther trots along the street. hushed whispers are already circulating, & you can feel endless sets of eyes digging into your back.

just a couple more feet, a few more moments. then we’ll be safe, you think as your shop comes into view, breathing a quiet sigh of relief. you slide down off the panthers back to unlock the door & usher it in, locking it behind you both with another relieved sigh. you relax too soon.

there, in your kitchen, sit sero & kirishima, both gaping as they stare at the massive panther in your foyer. sero’s got a teapot in one hand, the other cupping the air - a shattered mug at his feet.

“we came for tea,” kirishima squeaks. sero is dumbfounded where he stands. the panther huffs unamused, tail flicking & breaking one of the china plates along the wall.

you sink to the floor in despair.

what the fuck, is all you can think, burying your head in your hands.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

your friends take it all in surprisingly well. sero sweeps up the shattered mug & dish, kirishima makes them all tea, & you have a mild panic attack.

the panther simply curls up in a corner of the shop, avoiding everything delicate as it takes up a good chunk of the space. kirishima can’t stop staring at it, eyes blown wide as he takes in every inch of the creature.

“it’s really yours? your familiar?” he’d asked, voice hushed. you swatted at his arm with a scowl, glancing over at the uninterested panther. “stop talking about it like it’s not here! you know it can hear you.”

truthfully, however, you don’t even think the panther is listening. it has an air of disinterest clouded around it, lazily examining its paws & twitching its whiskers every so often.

sero maintains that he won the bet, much to your chagrin. “it’s just a really big cat!” he insists. kirishima simply rolls his eyes & tells him to take it up with bakugou.

it takes an hour or two, but eventually you manage to shoo your friends out of your shop, a headache building at their incessant questioning - “so what's its name? boy or girl? did it try to eat you? why is it looking at me like that?” - & all you want to do is sleep.

you lead the panther to the small side room you’d dolled up, albeit for a much smaller animal, wincing at the judgemental look you receive in return. “right, that won’t work. i mean, you could stay in my bed? it’s really big, just a bunch of cushions & blankets on a floor mattress?” you offer, twisting your fingers in your shirt a little shyly. the panther pauses, then nods again, squeezing its massive frame through the narrow staircase to follow you upstairs.

your bed - a custom made mattress that spanned nearly across the entirety of your bedroom floor - seemed to accommodate the panther just fine, and it paced around once, twice, before settling in one corner of it. its lithe form took up a good two thirds of the mess of blankets, & you can’t help but coo at the sight. it really was just a big kitty cat, although you’d probably never say it to the creature’s face.

you busy yourself with getting ready for bed, washing your face, brushing your teeth & changing into your baggy blue silk pajamas - they’ve got little yellow crescent moons sewn into them, & you swear the panther laughs at you in them - before settling between the sheets.

“goodnight, mr. panther,” you mumble sleepily, silently hoping that things would be easier to fix in the morning before drifting off to dreams.

above you, the panther huffs a little fondly, nuzzling your soft little cheek before falling asleep as well.

—

the next few days aren’t any easier.

for one, you’re swamped with customers for the first time ever, people crowding into the tiny shop to catch a glimpse of the enormous panther curled up in the corner. normally you wouldn’t allow it, but the panther doesn’t seem to mind, & everyone who walks in leaves with something - you’re making a killing.

another little problem: the arrival of your - rather powerful - familiar means your own abilities have gotten a much needed boost. everything you make is soaked in energy, & your plants are shooting towards the ceiling every other hour.

in short, you’re probably the most powerful nature witch in the country, let alone the county.

you appreciate the fact that you’re better at what you do, but it tires you out quicker, & you’re twice as busy now that you can do so much.

all of this would be reasonably manageable, if your familiar wasn’t still stuck in its animal form.

the panther’s refused to shift for the entirety of the time you’ve known it, staying in its animal form in the corner of the shop. it simply watches & observes, occasionally nudging the right vial or plant closer to you with its large black nose. it’s a cute sight, the little nature witch bustling around the shop in your emerald green robes, a huge black panther tracking your every move with a fond expression. you’ve started to get comfortable around it as well, but you would like to get to know it eventually, & you enlist kirishima’s help.

the more experienced witch drops by with an old history book one afternoon when you aren’t as busy, the pair of you sitting at the table to read up on familiars.

“it says here familiars usually shift within the first day of meeting their witch,” kiri reads from the book, squinting at the tiny text. you had shooed the panther into the garden so you could talk uninterrupted, & you watch as the large creature nips at the butterflies circling its head. it makes you smile, heart a little fond at the sight.

“it’s been almost a week, kiri,” you pout, looking up at the witch in concern. maybe it's not comfortable with me yet, you add in your head. your stomach twists uncomfortably at the thought.

kirishima, seemingly sensing your worry, ruffles a hand through your hair, a reassuring smile on his face.

“don’t worry, [y/n]. i’m sure they’re still getting used to being here with you,” the taller comforts you. “just give it a little time.”

watching as your familiar tramples your hydrangeas, looking up at the window with a guilty expression on its face, you can only sigh.

“i hope you’re right.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

nearly two months later, you’re starting to doubt kirishima’s advice.

your familiar still hasn’t shifted in front of you, although you’ve got a sneaking suspicion it does while you’re asleep, a smattering of all black clothes hidden in random corners of his shop.

you still know absolutely nothing about them, every question you throw at the panther met with unblinking silence. but the panther knows all about you.

it knows which tea you prefer in the morning & evening, nudging out the right canisters with one massive paw. it knows every plant in your shop & garden, delicately ripping out whichever ones you need with sharp fangs. it knows to growl when a potion is boiling over, or huff when a customer is at the door. it even ran off a few thieves a week ago, snarling with its hackles raised at the foot of the stairs as they screamed & ran. you had given it an hour long head massage, complete with ear scratches, as a thank you.

the panther has settled itself in your shop & your life almost perfectly, a constant presence that you’ve grown fond of. but it doesn’t change the fact that they still haven’t revealed themselves to you. you feel like this relationship is ridiculously imbalanced; the panther knows you inside & out. you don’t even know their name.

still, you push down any doubt or insecurities you’re feeling, determined to let the panther come to you in your own time.

the mayor’s birthday changes all of that.

the mayor always requests a grand celebration, complete with magical fireworks, charmed balloons, singing lilies, & a three tier magical cake. normally, he only requests singing lilies & roses from you.

this year, you get a golden invoice for everything.

the mayor wants you to craft the cake, enchant the balloons & streamers, gather the singing flowers, and charm the fireworks, all in less than two days. you immediately break into a sweat.

you can’t ask your friends for help, as they’re tied up in their own town’s festivities. your only choice is to get the other witches’ in town; surely they’d help with the mayor’s birthday celebration.

surely not. they laugh you away from their shops the moment you ask, a pleading expression on your face.

“you shouldn’t need help, little dirt witch. you’ve got that powerful familiar of yours, don’t you? unless you can’t handle it,” they mock you, & your fists clench unwillingly; you force yourself to breathe.

you don’t need their help, or their disdain. you’re going to do it all by yourself.

you start with the flowers, collecting the brightest & loudest singers from your garden & placing them in charmed rainwater to keep them pristine. the panther helps where it can, delicately holding them between its fangs.

enchanting the streamers & balloons takes the better part of the day, & you’re up late into the night crafting the fireworks the right way. you fall asleep in a spellbook, the cake left forgotten till the morning. the panther simply rests its head next to yours on the table, the pair of you fast asleep until the next day.

when you wake up, the birds are chirping steadily outside, sunlight filtering in through the windows. it’s calm & soothing, & for a moment you’re at peace.

then you see the time, panic immediately setting in.

“wake up! wake up! i have to have the cake ready in four hours! it’s going to take me three just to mix the batter!” you’re running around the shop in a flurry of robes & quick spells, arms full of supplies. the panther just watches from its position on the floor, eyebrow quirked.

you’re halfway through mixing the batter when you realize you won’t finish in time.

you can’t focus on charming all three tiers at once as he mixes, but if you do them one by one you won’t finish in time. you pause, turning desperate eyes onto the panther.

“i know you’re not ready, & i didn’t want to push, but please. i need your help,” you plead. hands clasped in front of you & flour in your hair. the panther continues to stare, unmoving, as though immune to your begging.

it’s too much all at once, stress & anxiety building until you snap.

“why not! why! i get it! i understand you’re disappointed! i’m not some high tech witch in a big city, i’m not powerful! i’m weak & i suck & i can’t brew potions fast without blowing them up & i fell off my broomstick in the garden & you saw, i know! i just need help, for god’s sake! just help me, & you don’t ever have to talk to me again!” you promise, eyes watery as you burst into tears.

dropping your head into your hands to muffle your sobs, you barely register the faint whirling of air in front of you.

hands suddenly flutter over your crying form, hovering just above touching you as a low, rough voice pulls you from your misery.

“please stop crying, shit, please, i’m sorry, i swear i didn’t mean to make you cry, fuck,” you hear, & you tilt your head up, rubbing tears from your eyes.

there’s a man standing in front of you, wearing all black. he’s got messy purple hair sticking up from all sides & dark eyes, a hint of violet flashing through them in the light. there’s circles as dark as his clothes under his eyes, a familiar look on his face - like you’d seen it every morning waking up.

this ridiculously handsome man, looking slightly panicked, is your familiar. every time you’d called him a “pretty kitty” suddenly flashes through your mind.

fuck.

pushing all those thoughts to the back of your mind, you straighten up, hastily wiping your eyes on your robe sleeves. “can you stir the second pot, please? i’ll worry about the other ones,” you ask meekly, a little embarrassed now. you ignore the familiar’s prying gaze, simply muttering spells under your breath as you stir the first mixture.

the pair of you don’t speak unless it’s instructions, racing around the tiny shop to craft the magical cake. flour & sugar & icing cover every available surface as you wave your hands, whisking it all over the towering cake. you struggle a little to reach the very top, on your tiptoes as you attempt to frost the highest tier. warm, strong hands grip your waist & lift you right off the ground, holding you up to help; you blush furiously as you quickly finish.

you’re just putting the final smattering of glitter onto the cake when the mayor’s party attendants arrive to collect it. you can finally breathe as you watch them carry off everything you both had made, shoulders sagging in relief.

your familiar leans against the counter, wiping down the tables with a rag as he watches you. now that everything’s been finished, there’s no avoiding it.

“i’m hitoshi. that’s my name,” the panther - hitoshi - offers, presumably sensing your nerves. “& for the record, i think you’re a great witch. youre powerful all on your own, even without me.”

you can’t help your smile at that, a little flush to your cheeks as you sit at the table. “then.. then why didn’t you shift?” you ask softly. up close, you can see tiny freckles in place of hitoshi’s whiskers, the glossiness of his hair reminiscent of his panther fur.

the familiar shrugs, cheeks going a bit pink themselves as he stares at the table. “at first, i was just a little shy. it’s nerve wracking, meeting your witch. & then you just… passed out, you know? i was worried about how you’d react, so i decided to give you time.” you can understand that, listening closely.

“you were so nice to me, you weren’t scared at all. you scratched behind my ears & made me cleansing potions. & you let me stay in your bed, so easily. you were just…. nicer than i expected. and…. and prettier.” the familiar’s cheeks are a rosy red now, bright in contrast to his soft skin & prominent dark circles. you think it’s adorable.

“i just didn’t want you to think any different of me, you know? you liked panther me a lot, even though i kept breaking stuff, &.... i wanted you to keep liking me.” you outright coo at that, ignoring your familiar’s protests as you dissolve into giggles.

“really? of course i’d still like you, silly! i let you cuddle me! i called you mr whiskers for a solid month! oh god, i called you mr whiskers,” you whine, pouting a little. you’d called hitoshi a bunch of silly nicknames before he’d shifted, from pretty kitty to mr whiskers to sugarpaws. you’d been trying to compensate, in your defense, & hitoshi had seemed to like them.

hitoshi’s the one laughing now, smile bright as he gives you that same fond look. “it was cute. you were trying really hard,” he admits, head cocked to the side as he watches you.

you sit in a comfortable sort of silence then, simply taking in each other’s presence a moment.

“so, you thought i was pretty, huh?” you tease, breaking the silence as you move to stand in front of hitoshi. you giggle more at the flush that follows, ignoring hitoshi’s mumbling rant about “soft little witches” & “green robes & moon pajamas, that's ridiculous”, your smile growing ever wider.

you tap a finger against hitoshi’s nose, the familiar protesting in flustered panic. standing on tiptoe, you press a light kiss to the cranberry stained cheek, watching hitoshi absolutely melt.

“i thought you were cute too, pretty kitty,” you smile, turning to tidy up the pots & spellbooks & leaving an awestruck hitoshi at the table, hand frozen where you had pressed your lips.

i could get used to that, you think, giggling as hitoshi trips over himself to squish you against the counter, covering your face in kisses.

just you, your shop, & one pretty kitty.

#bnha shinsou #bnha hitoshi #hitoshi shinsou #shinsou x y/n #shinsou x you #shinsou x reader #bnha x y/n #bnha x you #bnha x reader #shinso x reader #bnha imagines #bnha fanfiction #bnha fic #boku no hero fluff #bnha fluff #evywrites

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theheartsmistakes · 3 years

Text

The Last Night Part XXI

A/N at the End:

Parts I-XIX:

Here is Part I

Here is Part II

Here is Part III

Here is Part IV

Here is Part V

Here is Part VI

Here is Part VII

Here is Part VIII

Here is Part IX

Here is Part X

Here is Part XI

Here is Part XII

Part XIII

Part XIV

Part XV

Part XVI

Part XVII

Part XVIII

Part XIX

Part XX

.XXI.

The cluster of ewes kept a respectful distance on their side of the fence, heads lifted now and then to watch the pair walking along the empty country road. Cordelia avoided a rather large puddle, filled over with dark murky water, and resumed her step with James on the other side. They were losing the light, and the setting sun had tinged the clouds a golden rose that glowed against the cold flat blue of the dusk.

James, tucked his hands into his pockets and resumed his guided tour. “I’m terribly sorry about having to abandon the carriage. It’s never clear how the wheels are going to weather the roads after a storm.”

“Another added to perk to Algernon,” said Cordelia.

“I’ll pretend you never said that and that you didn’t just use its given name. Matthew needs no further encouragement” said James and nudged her with his shoulder. “You know, Magnus owns this whole estate?”

“Really?” Cordelia looked across the narrow, feudal fields of rich red earth and verdant pasture sloping gently down from either side to form the shallow valley of the village, thinking how furious her father would have been to know that a Downworlder owned all of this. He hated the concept of massive estates. “That’s quite impressive.”

“He inherited it apparently. He owns everything— the pastures, the village, everything. Has done for nearly two centuries. Although he’s sold a lot of it in the past century or given it away, but he insists that the architecture be kept the same. That’s why some of the houses look sprung up from the colonies. Neo-Natalian, they call it, that flat-topped design. And that small cottage with the blue smoke coming out of the shoot”— he pointed down into the valley— “that’s his. Not too far to go. Are you alright?”

Cordelia tucked her hands into her coat pockets. “A little walking never bothered me. I would wonder around all over Tehran when I was a child. Alastair would grovel while I dragged him through the streets from one street merchant to the next.”

Squinting a little, Cordelia studied the westernmost end of the road, mentally comparing the earthy tones of England to the desert warmth of her homeland.

“I imagine it was beautiful,” said James.

“It was,” she said with a nod. “Though a different kind of beautiful than I imagine you’re accustomed to. The beauty lies inside of the city, with the people, the culture. It’s like every sense you have comes to life and you come to life. The air is so filled with spices and burning incense that you can taste it in your mouth. The language being spoken by neighbors sounded more like water trickling in a brook then the clumsy verbiage of English. Some streets were covered in rugs being woven and silks being beaded. It is its own piece of the world and could never be replicated.”

“You miss it.”

It wasn’t a question, but she answered as if it were. “Almost everyday.”

“Almost?”

Cordelia carefully avoided another puddle. “As I’ve told you before,” she started as they merged back together. “I grew up very much alone. I didn’t speak the language well— English being my first language, and the children often poked fun at my clothes or the way that I spoke. I had Alastair, but well, we both know how he can be.”

They began the slow descent now into the valley, not more than ten yards distant from the small cottage with the blue smoke chimney. If she was going to have this conversation with James, then she needed to start it now. She cleared her throat. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about what happened the other night. You have to understand that, there was once a time when Alastair and I— we were all each had in the world. And in that time, he protected me from a lot more than I realized and I don’t think he ever learned how to stop.”

“You don’t need to apologize for him, Cordelia,” said James. “As a brother myself, I understand perfectly well what he was doing and if a man had treated my sister the way that I treated you—even unknowingly— I would have flattened him to the gravel before he had a chance to speak. At least Alastair gave me a chance to explain myself before threatening to brazen me.”

Cordelia smiled. “He’ll probably never like you.”

James laughed and Cordelia’s heart responded to the sound. They’d come to the edge of the cottage’s property now, and the cottage seemed to be waiting for them.

“Then it’s a fine thing that it’s not his approval I seek,” said James, an eyebrow arched. “But I know he means a great deal to you.”

“He does,” she answered quietly.

She felt small in the shadow of the old cottage. The stone walls rose covered in a thin veil of moss and bright colored mushrooms. It was a narrow structure, hard and angular, save for the turret-like structure at one corner that probably sheltered a stairwell inside.

Reaching out, Cordelia ran her hand caressingly over the cold stones as they walked past. “Should we knock?” She asked, unsure how to approach the home of a high warlock— much less one with Magnus Bane’s social standing in the Shadowhunter community.

“Yes, I think so. He left specific instructions not to step on his azaleas,” said James, giving a flower bed full of the illusive purple flowers a wide berth.

He walked ahead of her towards the door tucked into the shadows of the wide porch. Cordelia’s trailing fingers snagged on something sharp, and she pulled her hand back, breaking contact with the stone wall.

“Curious,” said Cordelia, examining her finger tip where a small bead of blood now bloomed. “How does he get azaleas to grow this time of year.”

“I plant the bulbs in early winter,” said a voice from the porch, followed by a curl of smoke that drifted away into the air in the shape of a small white rabbit. “They freeze in the earth, then thaw in the summer, just in time for the rains to make everything moist. They’ll bloom until January.”

Magnus Bane emerged, resting his patched elbows on the porch banister. His eyes flickered, cat-like between the two shadow hunters on his lawn, and as a feline grin changed his face. “Come in,” he said, “it’s getting cold. And these hills are notorious gossips.”

Cordelia stepped through the front door, through the white-painted foray with the checkerboard floor. It smelled sharply of cut wood and coal dust and damp quarry tile.

“When I sent the letter, I expected to be invited back to your flat in London,” said James as he started unbuttoning his coat. “I hadn’t expected to be invited to the cottage. I haven’t been here since New Years of 99’ when you hosted that party.”

Magnus chuckled. “Yes, I faintly remember you and Matthew getting merry on spiced rum. One of you fell asleep in the antlers of my stag wall ornament.”

James blushed. “I have no recollection of that.”

“You wouldn’t, would you?” said Magnus. “It was very good spiced rum.”

James cleared his throat and quickly went to help Cordelia with her coat.

“Speaking of drinks, can I offer either of you something?” asked Magnus, lifting his hands towards the arched passageway into the kitchen. “I have fresh coffee, tea, biscuits, or a plate of chutney if you’re feeling peckish.”

Cordelia shrugged off her coat, and handed it off to James to hang beside his own. “I’ll take tea, if it’s not too much trouble.”

Magnus’s eyes flickered. “It’s not too much trouble at all.” Faint blue smoke curled from his fingertips as he snapped them. Cordelia heard the shuffling of glassware in the kitchen, but could not see who might be inside. “Follow me, we can sit in the front room with the fire so you can warm yourself.”

They followed the warlock through the arched walkway into the adjacent room. The large fireplace stacked with a glowing wood pile that crackled but didn’t seem to burn stood center against the forest green papered wall. A mural of Magnus sitting on a sofa with his ankles crossed and a gray cat in his lap hung over the gold painted mantle lined with fresh garland. Cordelia felt the texture of the floor change under her boots and looked down to notice the grand Persian rug underneath her feet. The style and design must have been over a hundred years old. She wanted to place her hands on it, to smell it, and see if there was anything left of its original home left on it, but resisted the strange urge by taking her seat in one of the wingback chairs that faced the fire.

James took his seat in the couple of her chair.

Magnus chose to stand beside the fireplace. “Your choice in correspondence has left me quite intrigued. It’s not often that one of your kind asks my permission before showing up at my doorstep. You either don’t want anyone to know you’re here or one of you has been raised with manners.”

“When have I ever just shown up at your doorstep?” asked James.

“Who said I was referring to you?” said Magnus, his eyes flickered to James’s wrist. “Aw, broken free from the manacle, I see. How did you manage it? Is that what this is about then?”

James gripped his wrist with his other hand. He glanced to Cordelia, probably weighing her reaction, and then back to Magnus. “We’re not here for me. It’s Cordelia.”

Magnus crossed his arms over his chest. “Aw, the young miss Carstairs. You look much better since I last saw you. You seem to have recovered nicely since your rendezvous with the prince of hell.”

“I wouldn’t call it a rendezvous as much as an unsuccessful kidnapping,” said Cordelia and allowed the comfort of Cortana strapped to her back to fight off the memory of being held against her will. Perhaps it was best that she didn’t remember any of it. What if he’d done something unspeakable to her.

“Tell me what ails you and I will see if I can help,” said Magnus.

“When I woke from my coma,” said Cordelia, taking a deep breath, “its seems that I have forgotten everything after the moment I got into the carriage with my brother to go to Alicante. I don’t remember being attacked, I don’t remember Belial, and I don’t remember how I got back except for what Lucie and James have told me. We were hoping that you would be able to gain access to my memories to hopefully learn what we can about Belial and his plan.”

“Curious.” Magnus tipped his head and thought for a moment, seeking a reply. “But you did hit your head rather hard in the attack, did you not? It could just be that your brain became scrambled just a bit and you’ve only temporarily forgotten.”

Cordelia and James glanced at each other. “That might be so,” said James, “but if Belial disclosed any information about his plan on how to capture me as his host to Cordelia and erased her memories as she was escaping, then perhaps her memories are key to his defeat.”

“Perhaps.” He looked between the two of them. “Unfortunately for you, your very concerned parents have requested that if you were to come to me, I not assist you.”

Cordelia and James both dropped their shoulders in dejection.

“Fortunately for them,” started Magnus, “in assisting you, I am actually assisting them, which they also asked me to do.” He examined some dust on the mantle. “This is a tough decision.”

A silver tray topped with a simple white teapot and three cups drifted into the room and gently bumped into Magnus’s shoulder. Without looking, he waved it away. “None for me, thank you.”

Cordelia watched as the tray floated over to the elegant wooden table and sank down with a delicate rattle.

“Cream or sugar?” Magnus asked.

“Just cream,” requested Cordelia.

The pot and the milk jar lifted and poured simultaneously into an awaiting tea cup. Cordelia’s mouth gaped as she watched.

“You never fail to dazzle,” said James.

“I invented the word, boy,” grinned Magnus as the tea and cup soared to Cordelia’s awaiting hands. “And don’t you forget it. But, now, back to our predicament. No one else has tried to access these lost memories?”

Cordelia swallowed a mouthful of hot earl grey tea. “The Silent Brothers refused as my mind was still healing from the trauma. They fear it might cause irreversible damage.”

Magnus frowned. “They’re right. Playing with magic in someone’s mind is incredibly dangerous. Especially when it comes to memories. Just the slightest wrong touch and you could forget entirely who you are.”

The teacup rattled on the saucer in Cordelia’s hand. James reached over and placed a hand on her knee.

“You needn’t go through with it, Cordelia,” he said gently. “We’ll wait for the memories to return.”

“What if they don’t?” She reached forward to set her tea back on the table lest she spill it all over Magnus’s gorgeous rug or plush velvet arm chair. “Can you do it? Do you think you can access them without—“

Magnus studied his polished fingernails. “I can try, but despite what some might believe, there are no guarantees when it comes to magic.”

Cordelia glanced over at James beside her. He was already studying her face; his expression was gentle and considering. They’d come all this way and they’d gone through all of the trouble to lie to everyone and she had promised to help in any way that she could to defeat Belial. Still, she knew that if she decided she didn’t want to go through with it, he’d leave this cottage with her and they’d find another way.

But there was always a trust in everyone’s voices when they talked about the infamous Magnus Bane. She’d heard stories of his camaraderie and bravery with the Shadowhunter community for years. The other thing that could possibly match his style and class would be his power.

“Let’s try,” she said with as much confidence as she could bear to muster.

“Cordelia,” James started. “Are you absolutely certain?”

“No,” said Cordelia, “but you trust him, do you not?”

“With my life,” said James.

Magnus grinned down at his suede boots, pretending not to be listening, or at least not to have any interest in the exchange.

“Then I trust him too. Besides,” she said as she leaned forward to pick up her teacup. “His magic makes a delicious cup of tea and if that’s any indication of his abilities, then I feel completely safe.”

Magnus snapped his fingers and the tray of tea disappeared from the table. He pointed to James next. “James, you lay that blanket over the table. Cordelia, lay on top.”

They did as they were instructed. James removed the tightly knit afghan from the back of the chair and over the coffee table with it. Cordelia sat and swung her legs over until she could recline back in a position that made her feel entirely too vulnerable.

Magnus rolled up his sleeves to his elbows and rubbed his hands together creating sparks between his palms. He came around the table and kneeled down behind Cordelia’s head.

James knelt beside her and offered her his hand. “Perhaps you’d rather wait in the library? This could take some time and may not be pleasant.”

James brushed a strand of hair out of her face and tucked it behind her ear. “I don’t have to go anywhere if you’d prefer me here.”

“Actually, it might be better if you left the room,” said Magnus. “It will give Cordelia a chance to speak more freely and I don’t need the concerned significant other hovering over my shoulder while I am trying to work in the delicate details of the human consciousness.”

Cordelia took his hand and squeezed it. “He’s right.”

James leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I won’t be far.”

She nodded and reluctantly let his hand go as he stood.

Once James left the room, Cordelia felt the cool press of Magnus’s fingertips against her temple. “When you’re comfortable, close your eyes for me, Cordelia.”

After several deep breaths, Cordelia let her eyes close and focused her attention on the gentle rush of Magnus’s breath through his nose and the crackling of the fire wood.

“What’s the first thing that you remember from that night?”

Cordelia let the memories rush past her strangely warped and out of order. The first thing that came to mind was standing before James. “I said goodbye to James. I’d broken our engagement and was leaving London for Alicante with my brother.”

The warmth of the tears on her cheeks, the weight in her chest, the ache in her throat, she recalled all of it as if it were happening again. “I remember leaving James. I climbed into the carriage with Alastair. We started arguing. I told him of my plans to join the Iron Sisters when we returned to Alicante. He was so angry with me. He forbade me from doing it. He nearly turned the carriage around when we felt a jolt, as if we lost a wheel, and the carriage stopped.”

The picture in her mind started to become disfigured. Alastair stood in the darkness, a spear in his hands as he yelled something out to her.

“What was that?” Cordelia asked, pushing herself up to her knees.

“I’m not sure.” Alastair reached for the door. “Stay here. I’ll see what’s going on.”

“I’m coming with you.”

The memory started rippling apart like a stone thrown into still waters.

“Hold onto it, Cordelia,” said Magnus. “There’s a block on your memories, but fight through it.”

“Cyril!”

“Run, Miss Carstairs, run.”

The memory shuddered again.

Alastair stood in front of her with a spear in his right hand, held out in front of them ready to empale whatever or whomever came near. At some point, he had abandoned his waist coat and tie. His eyes danced sharply around them. “Draw Cortana, I believe we’re under—“

Then, there was blood everywhere, more blood than she thought she’d ever seen in her life. Head wounds bleed the worst, she told herself. It was fine. He would be fine.

“Cordelia.” More blood seeped from between Alastair’s lips, staining his teeth. “You— It wants—“

A sharp pain lanced through her ribcage, stealing her breath.

“It’s not real, Cordelia,” said Magnus. “It’s just a memory. Keep going.”

It was dark, that much Cordelia could tell, and it was cold. So cold the tips of her fingers ached. She was flat on her stomach, laying on something hard- stone possibly— that chilled her to her core. A dull, but intensifying pain, ached on the right side of her ribcage with every breath that she took. It was also the only part of her that felt inflamed with heat. Her lungs felt too full, the air scratched against the back of her throat as though she’d inhaled a mouth full of soot. She tried to cough, but nearly cried out from the pain in her ribcage.

Laughter echoed around her as she walked forward through the hazy dream. A figure stood in the distance. He was dressed much the same as the last time she’d seen him, in an all white tailored suit complete with black buttons that glistened like eyes- perhaps they were eyes. His pale gray hair swept across his face; in much the same way as James’s, but she would not allow herself to think about that.

Belial.

“What is it that you want from me?” asked Cordelia, the words shook on her lips.

Belial chucked, it echoed around them. “Nothing from you.”

“James.”

No. No that wasn’t right.

The memory focused on her Lucie, standing before her grandfather in full fighting gear.

Belial’s smile glowed in her memory.

Cordelia’s eyes flew open and she blinked up at Magnus and James starting down above her.

“Lucie,” said Cordelia as fresh tears spilled from her eyes. “He wants Lucie.”

A/N: Thanks for waiting on the updates. I hope you guys enjoy this update. Magnus has always (and will always) be one of my favorite characters. I always have so much fun writing him. I hope I did him justice. Sorry if the ending feels a bit rushed (it was), but it was a lot of things we already know and Cordelia is just relearning. Leave me a comment, a like, and please reblog if you’re so inclined. Also, follow along for the next update coming on December 6. Stay safe and stay healthy!

#the last night fanfiction #the shadowhunter chronicles #cassandra clare #chain of gold #jordelia fanfiction #james x cordelia #james herondale #Cordelia Carstairs

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liberolove · 4 years

Text

Testing the Waters (pt. 1)

Summary: youve finally graduated high school and now youre moving on to college. youve decided to go to sendai university. its summer and youve become curious about checking out the dating pool in miyagi, so you download a dating app. you figure you might as well have fun before delving too deep into your studies

Part: [part one] out of ???

Pairings: nishinoya x reader / kuroo x reader / oikawa x reader / kiyoko x reader

A/N: theres tons of ships here, just me living out my hoe phase lmao please dont judge me. let me know what yall think

Genre: fluff, smut, crack

Warnings: flirting, college shinanigans

even though you decided to stay in your hometown to further your studies, you moved out as soon as you could. your parents were smothering you and you were honestly tired of it. so, you got your own apartment and started to live on your own. everything was fine and easy so far but then you realized how lonely you felt. your friends had moved away to go to other universities, and you were never really good at relationships. the anxiety of not knowing what to do with yourself until classes started was consuming you. to deal with this, you figured you might as well download a dating app.

“Gotta check out all the hot singles in my area, I guess,” you thought.

it had been a while since your last relationship but you were sure you were ready again. or maybe you could try to find something different. maybe some hookups could be enough to help you during this weird adjustment period.

you downloaded the app and added whatever details were needed.

Name: l/n, y/n

Looking for: chat, relationship, hookup, anything

Bio:

it took you about ten minutes to finally decide on what you wanted to add to your bio. finally, you typed out:

Bio: just another single college student looking for genuine human connections. Interests include watching anime, reading nerdy shit, and getting to know you

you were never too good at coming up with bios but this should be good enough for now. time to see what kind of fish you could catch..

not even a minute after uploading a picture of yourself, a new message showed up.

Nishinoya Yuu: hey, beautiful! (;

Y/n: oh hi! how are you?

N: doing better now that I’m talking to youuuu. how about your lovely self?

Y: wow someone is really straightforward. I’m doing pretty well rn thanks. what are you up to?

N: just been bored as fuck on here and then BOOM you showed up (:

Y: lol youre silly. so hows the whole dating scene look like on here? any good ones?

N: nah it sucks honestly. But now you’re here so its a million times better!

Y: oh shush lol. does this site really work? like have you actually met someone from here?

N: uhh i actually havent met anyone yet, but ive had some nice conversations so far! ive still got high hopes

Y: have you been on here for a long time?

N: i just downloaded it like two weeks ago? idk but yeah. im hoping that maybe youll be my first??

Y: your first what? haha be more specific

N: OH sorry!! i didnt mean it like that omg. i meant like my first person to meet off of this app lol

Y: i mean if youre not busy right now, we could meet up for a coffee date or something? (cliche right?)

N: ARE YOU SERIOUS RIGHT NOW? like... right now rIGHT NOW?

Y: yeah (: sorry for doing this so fast. you’re just really cute and im bored haha

N: nooooo its fine i swear im just a little shocked. and WOW you think IM CUTE? you should look in the mirror because your gorgeousss *heart eyes emoji*

Y: so its settled? lets meet today at around 1 pm at XXX cafe?

N: yeah! thats not too far from here! i CANT WAIT

Y: same here (:

as soon as you sent that last message you hopped in the shower and started getting ready. you debated whether to put on makeup or not and then eventually decided to do it. you wore that one red dress that greatly accentuated your butt and your curves. you checked the clock and it was 30 MINUTES UNTIL 1 so you finished up by brushing your hair and adding on a spritz of peach scented perfume. “Hopefully this impresses him.”

the cafe you guys agreed to meet at was only a short walk away from your apartment. you were almost at the cafe when you noticed the time again and it was already 10 MINUTES PAST 1! you were so scared that he thought you stood him up but as you got closer, you noticed a cute boy sitting by himself outside. you stared at his backside for a little, unsure if this was your mystery boy. so you messaged him on the app

Y: heeeey are you the one sitting alone outside with a tan shirt and some ripped black jeans?

your phone lit up with the answer to your question: “yes”

as you looked up again, you noticed the stranger you were staring at had stood up and was looking right into your eyes. once you locked eyes, he grinned the biggest smile you’d ever seen and he chuckled.

“Hi there!! L/n, right? Nice to meet ya, I’m Nishinoya Yuu. Wow, you’re even more beautiful in person!! Do you want anything from the cafe? I’m buying”

You were kind of shocked by his beautiful smile and his spiky hair. It took you a while to respond as you tried to take in the wonderful sight in front of you. He was simply breath taking. You could tell he was the athletic type by the way his shirt hung onto his broad, toned shoulders.

“Ummm... L/n? Are you okay? Do you want any coffee or sweets from the cafe?”

“OH, oh my god, I’m so sorry! I got distracted..” you said as you looked away from him, getting redder by the second. you hadn’t even noticed his compliment or the way he kept eyeing you up and down and licking his lips. “Yeah, I’d love to get a coffee, if you don’t mind. Please..”

His eyes snapped back up to yours. “Awesome, I’ll go order inside. You can just sit your pretty little self here while I do that. Don’t run away! I’ll be right back!”

now that you had some time to reflect on what the heck just happened.. you breathed a sigh of relief. You couldn’t believe that he was real and so goddamn gorgeous. His little tuft of blonde hair at the front of his head was so cute and his smile.. goddamn. the way he looked at you.. and his friendly demeanor. it was all so much to take in. you didn’t really know how to react. as soon as you had relaxed, you tensed back up as he came back and sat down with you.

“Here’s your coffee hot and ready just for you, hun”

“Thank you so much Nishinoya” you blushed a bit as your mouth pronounced his name

“Hey, just call me Noya! Or Yuu...”

“On a first name basis already?”

“Only if you want to..”

you giggled as you noticed that he was getting bright pink too. “Okay, Yuu.”

as soon as you said his first name, his eyes lit up and that bright pink hue on his face soon turned into a passionate red

“Soooo..” you said as you tried to break up the silence.. “what do you do? do you go to school?”

“Yeah! I’m going to start going to Sendai University in the fall! I’m going to be playing on the volleyball team! How about you?”

“No way.. I’m gonna go there too! I guess I’ll be seeing you around probably. And wow! Volleyball huh? That’s hot.”

when you said that last part, Noya almost spat out his coffee. you laughed at the look on his face. he was blushing so much he couldn’t keep still. you were almost afraid he would just run away from you and never come back.

He just tried to regain his composure and laughed. “You really got me there oh my god i almost choked. But yeah I can’t wait to play again.”

The rest of the afternoon you guys talked about everything from anime to your favorite season, to your least favorite horror movie. The more you two bonded over common interests, the more he let his wild side out. He became more rambunctious and fiery and this did things to you, to say the least. you checked your phone to check the time and it was already 6:45 pm. You had no clue as to when the sun had started setting, but it didn’t matter because you hadn’t felt this warm fuzzy feeling in your heart in a while. it felt so nice. you didn’t want it to end. but then noya interrupted your thought by saying,

“Hey, (y/n)..” you two were on a first name basis already and it was just the first date. “it’s getting pretty late and I have to go home and help out my family with some stuff. I hope you don’t mind. Sorry! But we can definitely go out again if you want. i know i sure do..”

“Yes, of course! I totally get it. But first can I get your number?” you look away as you say this because this was the first time you’ve ever asked a guy for their number.

you two exchange phone numbers and hug goodbye. you let the hug linger for a little longer than you should and plant a quick soft peck on his cheek and say,

“I can’t wait to see you again, Yuu.”

He just smiles and replies, “Me too, Y/n. I’ll see you again soon, babe.”

You freeze up and don’t know what to say as he walks away. you think to yourself, “did he really just call me babe?”

#liberolove writes #nishinoya yuu #nishinoya #nishinoya x reader #nishinoya yuu x reader #lblv.nishinoya

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deanstop13billyjoeltraxx · 3 years

Text

Superposition

a deancas college roommates AU

Dean Winchester had it all at Wichita State University — a second chance, a future devoid of his father, and a roommate-turned-best friend who understands him inside and out.

But his father dies, he fails out in his second semester, and Castiel Novak leaves without so much as a goodbye.

Three years later, Dean has picked up the pieces. He works at the most trusted auto-shop in Lawrence, he’s putting Sam through college. Dean thinks it can’t get much better than that.

Then Castiel Novak gives him a concussion, and everything falls apart. Again.

Chapter 2 is up on AO3 (and below the cut)! Tumblr chapter masterlist here.

Classic Rock and Other Foreign Concepts

Three Years Earlier

Castiel Novak was ready for his second chance.

Sure, the name “Wichita State University” held no cache, and sure, it was only two hours away from home. But it was a full ride, it was free of old high school acquaintances. It was enough.

Castiel stood at the door of his empty dorm room, hope blooming in his chest as he regarded the dingy bunks and linoleum floors.

He didn’t have much in the way of belongings, so moving in was quick and easy, even by himself. Castiel made his bed, hung up his limited outfits in the dresser, and filled his desk with his books and paper. Only one thing remained in his suitcase — a picture of his family, two Christmases ago. Castiel took it out and looked at it for a moment, before deciding to place it on his desk.

He decided it might be a good idea to familiarize himself with his new surroundings. That was sure to calm down the inevitable anxiety that his first trip to the showers would bring. Castiel strolled down the hallway, doing his best to stay out of the way of all of the other freshmen moving in on his floor.

After successfully discovering the bathroom and the water fountain, as well as narrowly avoiding an awkward encounter with two giggling girls who were apparently intent upon introducing themselves to him, he returned to his room with a sigh.

Castiel moved to his desk and opened his computer. He pulled up his course schedule, reviewing it again, despite having already committed it to memory. Tuesdays and Thursdays would be difficult, he thought, with financial accounting, economics, and an intro to business. The other days were more interesting, holding philosophy, creative writing, and nineteenth century British literature.

Castiel was about to read the class descriptions for the millionth time when a loud thud and a grunt interrupted his thoughts. He stood up, fast, almost knocking his head on the bottom of his bed. Castiel got to his open door just in time to almost run into someone.

“Shit! Watch it, man!”

Castiel found himself face to face with… Plastic storage bins. The man holding them shifted to reveal a mild scowl. Castiel cleared out of his way, and the man set the three boxes down.

“Sorry,” Castiel muttered.

“You’re fine,” the man grumbled. “Sorry, long drive.”

“Dean Winchester, I presume?” Castiel said, cautiously. He had seen his roommate assignment online weeks earlier.

“Damn straight,” Dean said, and he offered a hand out to Castiel, who accepted it graciously. “Sorry, man, I’m terrible with names. Have we met?”

“I’m Castiel Novak,” Castiel replied, then added, “We haven’t met, but the website informed me of your name and email address. I emailed you a few weeks back.”

Dean nodded. “I definitely didn’t respond. Sorry ‘bout that, I kind of haven’t had access to the internet in… Well, it’s a long story. Anyway, good to meet you.”

“You as well. Do you need any help unpacking?”

“Least you can do after nearly killing me.” Castiel tensed, but then Dean clapped him on the back. “Kidding. Help would be great.”

Castiel moved to unpack the box nearest him, but Dean stopped him with a hand on his arm.

“No! Uh, not that one. No offense, but that’s the most important thing I own. Give me a second, you can start on this one.”

Castiel tilted his head in inquisition, but Dean said nothing more, just got to unpacking the bin. Castiel set to work on the second of the three, first grabbing the sheets to make the bed.

When Castiel had finished with Dean’s bed, he turned to see Dean had set up a record player and a pair of bookshelf speakers on the floor.

“Behold,” Dean announced. “My prized possession.”

“A record player?” Castiel asked.

“Not just the record player,” Dean said. He went back to the box, which Castiel could now see was filled with vinyl LPs. “The whole collection.”

“It’s quite impressive.”

“Fuckin’ A-right,” Dean said. “Here, you like Zeppelin?”

“Embarrassingly, I have no idea who that is,” Castiel said, blushing.

Dean’s eyes widened. “Dude! No way! Oh man, it’s time to educate you. How have you survived this long Zeppelin-less?”

“My father was strict about music.” Castiel felt suddenly very nervous that this, combined with his near-toppling of Dean moments earlier, would have him solidly fixed on Dean’s bad side. But Dean was flipping through his records with animation, as if Castiel’s ignorance was a game to be won.

“That’s utter bullshit,” Dean declared. “Here, listen to this.”

Dean put on Led Zeppelin IV. Castiel turned back to the plastic bins, intent upon doing something while the record played. He was quiet as he worked, setting up first an ancient-looking coffee maker, then a small, LCD monitor. Dean unpacked his clothes, quietly singing along to the music.

“Do you need help with the rest?” Castiel asked when they had finished, assuming there had to be more than just those three boxes. Dean chuckled quietly.

“Nah, this is it. Thanks for the help, Castiel.”

Castiel raised an eyebrow, but only said, “You’re welcome.” Dean had brought even less than he had.

“That’s a weird name, by the way,” Dean said, turning the volume down on the speakers. “Castiel. It sounds kind of --”

“Ancient?” Castiel supplied, and Dean nodded. “That’s because it is. It’s adapted from the name of an angel in the third book of Enoch.” At Dean’s blank look, Castiel added, “Christian apocryphal lore. My parents are very religious.”

“Ah,” Dean said. “And you…?”

“Haven’t been to church since I was fourteen,” Castiel finished. “We are very different, my family and I.”

Dean nodded. “That them?” He asked, pointing at the picture on Castiel’s desk.

“Yes,” Castiel said.

“That’s a lot of kids.”

“Yes, there’s five of us.”

“Road trips must have been fun,” Dean said.

This actually got a laugh out of Castiel.

“I’ve only got one. My kid brother, Sam,” Dean said.

“How old is Sam?”

“God.” Dean rubbed his face, considering. “I guess he’s fourteen now. It’s weird — I feel like I can never see him as any older than, like, eight.”

“I can’t say I understand,” Castiel replied. “I’m the youngest.”

“Damn, that must suck, four older siblings. What’re their names?”

Castiel picked up the picture. “The boy on the left — he’s the oldest — that’s Gabriel. The other is Bartholomew. The redhead is Anna. And then there’s Hannah, she’s just a couple years older than me.”

Dean nodded, moving to his record player. He pulled a small, worn piece of paper from the inside.

“This is old as hell,” he said, showing Castiel the picture, “but that’s my dad, and that’s Sam when he was… ten, maybe?”

“It’s just the three of you?”

“Yeah, my mom died when I was, like, four.”

“I apologize, I didn’t mean to --”

“No worries, man,” Dean said. “Long time ago.”

There was an awkward pause that made Castiel want to open his computer just to look preoccupied, but Dean spoke.

“I’m sorry, I can’t get over this name stuff. I can’t be roommates with a dude named after an angel.”

Castiel felt his entire body deflate. Day one, and just his name was already making things difficult. “I’m… Sure there’s a way to switch roommates. But, what’s wrong with being named after an angel?”

“Dude, I was totally joking,” Dean said, putting his hands up defensively. “I’m not switching roommates — unless you’re secretly a vampire or something.” Castiel smiled at that. “And there’s nothing wrong with it, I’m just not into the whole religion thing. Makes me feel weird. Nah, I’ll just have to call you something else. Any suggestions?”

“I’ve always just been ‘Castiel.’”

“Man, haven’t had many creative friends,” Dean said. “Cas it is, then.”

“Cas?” Castiel replied. He considered the new nickname. Castiel actually found it strange that no one had ever thought of it before, now that he had heard it. “I suppose it is a great deal shorter.”

“Easier to say, too,” Dean said. “It fits.”

Castiel smiled tentatively. “Sure.”

The music faded, and Dean flipped the record to the B-side.

“What do you think so far?” He asked.

“It’s certainly different than what I’m used to. In a good way,” Castiel added.

Dean beamed at him. “Awesome. I have more in here, too, and it’s not just Zep. Mostly the classics — the Stones, Rush, AC/DC… And a shit load of grunge, too. Man, wait til you hear Alice in Chains…”

Castiel smiled at his animation. “Music is important to you?”

“Dude, I couldn’t function without music. I feel like every time I listen to a song I like, I find something new that makes it even better.” Dean chuckled to himself. “Sorry, I’m geeking out about classic rock.”

“I don’t mind,” Castiel said, and he found that it was true. “I feel similarly about books.”

“You like to read?”

“Immensely.”

“You’ll have to give me some recommendations. I read Vonnegut in high school, and that was cool, but other than that and Harry Potter I think I’m pretty hopeless.”

“I will,” Castiel said, even though he knew he wouldn’t, even though he knew Dean was simply saying the polite thing. He had learned by now that when people asked about him to talk about the things he liked, they were just being nice.

Dean asked Castiel which end of the hall the bathrooms were on, and excused himself.

When he returned, Dean clapped his hands together. “So,” he said. “I gotta ask you the Freshman Questions.” At Castiel’s confused look, he elaborated: “You know, the two things you ask everyone for your whole freshman year. Where are you from, what are you majoring in?”

Castiel nodded. “I see. I didn’t know there was a procedure.”

Dean looked at him for a moment. “It’s not — I was kinda joking.”

“Oh. Right,” Castiel said, rubbing his neck. “Well, I’m from Guthrie — it’s a small town in Oklahoma, just a few hours south of here. And I’m studying accounting and creative writing.”

“Guthrie… I’ve driven through there, on our way to Oklahoma City for a job my dad worked once,” Dean said.

“It’s not very impressive.”

Dean laughed. “Nah, not really.”

“What about you, Dean?”

“I’m from Lawrence — it’s northeast of here. And I have no fucking idea what I’m gonna major in,” he said. “I’m not really… Well, Sam is the smart one. That kid is gonna kick ass when he goes to school. I’m kinda just here to…” Dean trailed off.

“Experience it?” Castiel suggested. Dean shrugged.

“Yeah, I guess.” He cleared his throat. “Why accounting? I get the writing thing, you said you like books — but accounting? I feel like those two don’t mix.”

“They don’t,” Castiel agreed. “But I don’t want to be a starving author. I do want to be able to take care of myself.” I want to be far, far away from everything I’ve ever known. I want to leave and never look back.

“Fair,” Dean said. “I don’t know about you, Cas, but I’m starving. Wanna grab some dinner?”

“Sure,” Castiel said with a smile.

The next day, in his first creative writing class, the professor asked each of them to share their major, their hometown, and a fun fact. He called, “Novak, Castiel?”

“Double major in accounting and writing. I’m from Guthrie, Oklahoma. I suppose a fun fact is that I’m named after an angel, but you can just call me Cas.”

#superposition #destiel #supernatural #fanfic #deancas #castiel #dean winchester

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captainscanadian · 5 years

Text

Better | Bucky Barnes x Reader (Part 1)

My Masterlist

Summary: Doctor!Bucky has a day off but instead of leaving the hospital to go home, he decided to spend it at the bedside of the woman he loves.

Word Count: 4592

Pairing: Doctor!Bucky x Doctor!Reader, Doctor!Bucky x Platonic!Nurse!Wanda, mentions of Steve, Sam, Natasha & Sharon as minor characters

Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of Abuse & Alcoholism, Surgery, Organ Donation, IV & Needles, Emotional Distress, Physical Pain, Drugs, Hospital Stay

A/N: Doctor!Bucky is my guilty pleasure.But I have more Bucky AUs and a Chris Beck one-shot coming soon!

It was the hint of orange against the dark blue sky that marked the start of dawn. As Dr. James Barnes found himself awakening from his slumber, he rubbed his eyes to look up at the pasty white ceiling of the dimly lit on call room where he had taken refuge after his ten-hour surgery. Working long shifts that typically lasted twelve to fifty consecutive hours depending on the circumstances had become a routine for him. Although he did appreciate taking a day or two off once he had reached his weekly limit, he could not get himself to go home that night. His lack of sleep, combined with his aching limbs as a result of being on his feet for almost a whole day, meant that he could not even drive home. He had no choice but to stay within the premises for the night.

As he climbed out of bed, he retrieved his navy blue scrub shirt from the tiled floor of the on call room and shrugged it on, rubbing his eyes again as he let out another yawn. He ran his fingers through his jet black mane, noticing that a few strands of his hair were still partially wet. He had found some time for a quick shower before he had made it to the on call room, but he had just been too lazy to dry his hair. He tucked a few loose strands behind his ear before making the bed. It took him a moment to be completely rid of his fatigue and he remembered the beeping sound that had woken him up. His picked up his pager that rested upon the nightstand where he had left it before he had crashed a few hours ago.

Upon checking his page from Wanda, his most-trusted nurse, Bucky picked up the phone and dialed the extension code for the nurse's desk at the post-op ward. "Hey, this is Dr. Barnes returning a page." He said, groggily, to which he earned chuckle from his favorite nurse.

"You told me to page you when Y/N wakes up, Barnes." She told him. "Did you forget?"

"... Right. Sorry, I'm still half asleep." He let out another yawn. He had completely forgotten that your surgery had been last night. He had been planning to sit in the gallery and watch Dr. Romanoff operate on you once his shift had come to an end. But with an unexpected emergency pulling him away for the night, he had only managed to get a glimpse of you in post-op by the time he had returned from his surgery. Had Wanda not urged him to get some shut-eye while he awaited for you to wake, Bucky would have probably dropped to the floor. He was too exhausted to even be worried about you, it seemed. But hearing Wanda mention your name had fully woken him up in an instant. "I-I-I'll be over there in a moment..." He said between a yawn, clipping his pager onto his waistband before slipping into his black tennis shoes.

"I figured. There's a cup of coffee here at the nurses' desk with your name on it. I'll see you when you get here, Doc." With that, she hung up.

It took Bucky a few moments to gather himself before he walked out of the on call room. Perhaps, it was a good thing that he had the next two days off from work, thanks to his overworking nature that had resulted in him reaching his weekly limit of hours he could work. If he were in the OR at this state though, he probably could not even tell the difference between a vein and an artery if he wanted to. It was for the best. If anything, he needed to be forced to take the time off. Plus, he was planning on spending his time off by your bedside if you needed him. It was just an added bonus.

He jogged his way up the stairs to the nurse's desk on the post-op floor. "Wanda, you're a godsend." He picked up the cup of coffee and took a sip, feeling the bitterness of the dark roast seep down his throat, followed by the urge to spit out this concoction that was the farthest away in taste from his usual vanilla bean latte. "Never mind. Actually, I take that back. You're not a godsend. This coffee is absolutely disgusting and it's such a disgrace to humankind."

The perky nurse let out a laugh from behind her computer screen before shaking her head. "Don't you dare be such an ungrateful little shit, Barnes."

He rolled his eyes as he set down the coffee. "Don't you dare speak to your boss like that."

"Why? What are you going to do? Fire me?" She asked as she looked up at him, her eyebrow raised.

Bucky rolled his eyes playfully at her attitude, even though he felt like it was way too early in the morning for them to be bickering like this. Even though Wanda was only a nurse, the two of them had known each other since he had been a pre-med student at NYU. Aside from Steve, whom he had known since childhood, and Sam, whom he had only met while they were both residents, Wanda was someone who had become a younger sister to him. Having lost her own brother at a young age, she too had accepted him as a brotherly figure over the years. Their constant sibling-like banter was just proof of how close they really were and almost everyone at this hospital knew about their bond. "Or I could trade you with Sam for Sharon."

"Asshole." Wanda rolled her eyes back at him before taking back his coffee, taking a sip of it and watching his face fill with disgust.

He leaned against the desk, shifting his weight from his left leg to his right. "Has anyone from her family been down to see her yet?" The look in his eyes filled with concern and the tone of his voice was softer than it was before, it was hushed. For some reason, a part of him feared that the others might hear him and come to know of his deepest secret, his love for the woman he worked with.

She shook her head as she turned away from the screen once again. "Not that I know of. I did notice her mother go in and out of her father's room until visiting hours were over. And then I saw her sitting at the lobby when I went down to get coffee. She seems to be sticking around the premises but I don't think she intends to go and see her daughter."

He let out a sigh of disbelief before shaking his head. A part of him knew that he should not be pissed at your situation; it was none of his business. But he could not help but be angered by the way your family was treating you after what you had just done for them. Perhaps, it was because he valued human life so much that he respected your sacrifice, or it was because he valued you as a human being much more than they did. But Bucky was not going to let anyone else treat you like shit. He was sure of it. "Unbelievable."

Wanda raised her eyebrow at him. "Please don't tell me that you're going to go out there and yell at them? This is none of your business." If there was anyone in this entire hospital who knew about Dr. James Barnes' feelings for Dr. Y/N Y/L/N, it was her. "And I don't think she would want that."

"No, I know that but I have to say... they're the ungrateful shits here, Wanda."

"It was Y/N's choice, Bucky." She reminded him. "It was her body and her choice."

"You know, she said those exact words to me when I told her not to risk her own life to save the man who destroyed her childhood. She sounded just like Steve that I wasn't even surprised. He taught her well." He laughed at the thought of how his attempt to talk you out of donating your liver had been defeated. "She's better than any of us could ever be."

Though you hadn't been as close to him as you were with Steve, Bucky had taken a strong liking to you over the last few years. You had first come to this Brooklyn hospital to take up a fellowship in cardio-thoracic surgery with the incomparable Dr. Steve Rogers. As you were a career-driven woman who was extremely focused on the job, Steve had taken you under his wing and taught you everything you knew as a surgeon and as a human being.

"She's a natural, Buck." He would beam with pride for his young fellow while he drank with his best friend after a hard day's work. "You would love her." Bucky and Steve had been best friends since childhood. They had graduated high school together before going off to NYU for pre-med. After being neck and neck with their MCAT scores, they had also attended Columbia Medical School together. They had survived the competitive stage of residency and trained together under the best cardio-thoracic surgeon in the country, only to return to their hometown of Brooklyn and work side by side. They were practically inseparable.

If Steve had only known how right he had been back then about how much Bucky would love you if he ever met you, now that Bucky had realized it himself. You had first met him at one of the worst points during your fellowship, having lost your first patient while you had been training under Dr. Rogers. It had been Steve's decision to let you fly solo for that particular procedure, but things had slipped out of your hand in the matter of a millisecond. You found yourself sobbing in an on call room and beating yourself up for it. A life was lost on your operating table and you had taken an oath to do no harm. It crushed you when you realized that you had disappointed your mentor, after all those sleepless nights of studying so hard to get yourself where you were.

It wasn't easy for you to be alone from such a young age, especially with no support from your family and no real friends. You had lived on your own since you were eighteen years old, having fled your abusive home to find yourself a safe place here in New York. After your impeccable grades had managed to get you into NYU with a scholarship, you had pushed yourself through the next eight years of schooling while you worked two part-time jobs to make ends meet. Your mother hadn't even bothered to show up at your medical school graduation even though you had sent her an invite, not that it really mattered to you anyways. You had come to terms with the fact that you were all that you had. You had built a life for yourself and a career that was going to be your backbone; you didn't need people, you thought. But that night, even your career had seemed to be letting you down.

That was when you had met Dr. Barnes, the next best heart surgeon in the hospital, who had managed to scramble into the nearest on call room that night for a power nap, only to run into your tearful self. He had asked you what was wrong and you had poured your heart out to him. If you had been so worried about disappointing Steve, you might as well ask Steve's best friend about how to handle it. As it turned out, he somehow possessed a different approach to teaching than his best friend. He claimed that Steve shouldn't have let you take on that patient until you had been prepared for what you had now missed, but he understood the reason why he had done that. After all, Dr. Rogers did have a reputation for being a little unconventional in his teaching. It was one of the reasons why you had been determined to work with him in the first place. "I feel like I failed him." You had told Dr. Barnes in the midst of tears. "I don't think I'm good enough for this, Dr. Barnes."

"We've all been there, Dr. Y/L/N. We've all lost patients. We've all blamed ourselves for the things that are always beyond our hands. There are some things that we as doctors can't control. Steve didn't get where he is without losing a single patient during all those years of training. I didn't get where I am without losing a patient. We are not perfect. We're human. You shouldn't blame yourself for what happened. You should learn from it and be better the next time around. Steve can be a jerk sometimes, I can tell you that. But if he told you to walk it off, you walk it off." He had told you, making you chuckle through your tears. "I'm not going to tell you that the road ahead is easy. But you signed up for this so you have to deal with the good and the bad."

"I don't think I can ever be as good as him." You admitted, sighing in defeat. "I don't think I could ever be as good as you."

"Then you should probably aim to be better than us."

Looking back at that conversation now, Bucky couldn't help but realize that you had in fact been better than the two of them. The years had managed to mold your extremely formal mentor-student relationships with them into a much more genuine and beautiful friendship. Steve had become family to you, after having learned of your own familial situation. With his friendship came your friendship with Bucky, Wanda, Sam and Natasha. They were your family now, not the people that you shared blood with. Your biological family hadn't been the best but the family that you had found for yourself in New York were much better.

When you had learned from Natasha that her recent patient with liver failure happened to be your alcoholic father whom you had fled all those years ago, a part of you refused to remember that you even had actual parents. But you were human, after all, and you were bound by your emotions. Looking into his file, you had come across the fact that he was going to be put on the donor list. As they had not found a match for a liver transplant, you had volunteered to get tested and found that you were a perfect match. Your mother had been selfish enough to save her husband's life that she had accepted it. Dr. Romanoff stood by what was best for her patient as any doctor should be. Sam and Steve had respected your choice, commending you for coming forward to save the life of the man who had once ruined yours.

But Bucky had somehow tried to talk you out of the surgery, fearing that it would put you in danger. A liver transplant was no joke. Not to mention that he did not agree with the fact that you were willing to give a piece of your own flesh to save your father's life, expecting absolutely nothing in return. But you had convinced him that as a doctor and as a human being, this was the right thing to do. Even though Natasha was a great general surgeon, he did not undermine her expertise. He was just worried that something inevitable might take you from him during this surgery. He realized that he had loved you so much that he did not want to lose you. But thankfully, the things beyond the control of a doctor that he had once told you about did not get in the way when your own life was on the table.

The beeping sound of the cardiac monitor was a constant reminder that you had survived this surgery. Not that you even doubted Natasha's ability to perform a partial liver transplant. She was definitely the best general surgeon at the hospital. But your fear of the unforeseeable factor had been present ever since you had agreed for this surgery. Even when the anesthesia had been administered and you found yourself slowly losing your consciousness, you had hoped that you would wake up from this on the flip side of the eight hour procedure.

Wanda had been at your bedside the moment you opened your eyes. You had been thankful to see a familiar face, not that any of the hospital staff were unfamiliar to you. But a part of you had expected that you wouldn't be waking up to your mother or an extended family member sitting next to your bed in anticipation of you waking up. Clearly, you had been right about that. Despite the fact that you had now saved your father's life, they could not be bothered about your well-being. They never were,

Being alone as a doctor was not that much of big deal but being alone as a patient sucked. Not only did you have to deal with the nerves before the surgery and the physical pain after it, but there was also the two month recovery time that could not be spent alone in bed rest. You did not know how you were going to survive that, but as you were used to being alone for all these years, you need not to worry. You'll cross that bridge when you get to it.

After checking your vitals and bringing you a cup of water to ail the dryness in your throat, the nurse had left the room. You had asked her about your father's post-op condition but she hadn't said anything about that. It made you worry for the slightest. What if he had suffered the complications of this operation? What if his body had rejected the piece of yours that you had voluntarily given up? That would have made your sacrifice so pointless. You did care about him, even though he had been so horrible to you. It wasn't because he was your father. You had stopped thinking of him that way years ago. But you were a doctor and he was a patient. You had what it took to save his life, ironically which was his blood, and you had made the call to step up.

The sound of footsteps against the cold tiled floor of your hospital room made you gently turn your head towards the door. Wanda had adjusted your bed to help you sit upright but it was still a little uncomfortable for you. Now that the anesthesia had slowly worn off, you were starting to feel some pain in your side. But your chapped lips curled into a weak smile when your eyes landed on the handsome doctor who had just entered the room.

His hair was not as perfectly coiffed as you remembered but it was still as silky as you remembered, the dark strands glistening against the light of the morning sky. His ocean blue eyes looked calm and a lot less blood shot than you were used to. The Dr. Barnes you knew and loved was a sleep deprived mess who cared more about his patients than his own health. But the man who stood before you looked refreshing, like coming up for a breath of fresh air just before you thought you were going to drown. You felt safe in his presence, you had always did.

"I wasn't expecting any visitors at this time and I certainly wasn't expecting a visit from you." You managed to croak out, taking another sip of the water that the nurse had handed you earlier. "But I'll take it."

"Why would that be the case, Dr. Y/L/N?" The man chuckled as he pulled up a chair next to your bed and sat down. You noticed that he was still wearing scrubs and it made you wonder. Had he been working all night and decide to stop by before he headed home? Or had he just arrived at the hospital for the start of his shift and decided to check on you before he was to begin his morning rounds?

"Because I went against your advice for the first time ever. You told me not to go through with this transplant and I did." You reminded him as you sighed. "I just assumed that you would be mad at me."

"Well, it was your choice." He just shrugged. "And now that I think of it, you may or may not have followed another one of my advice."

You let out a soft chuckle, followed by a wince at the pain that you felt in your side, now that the anesthesia was finally wearing off. You knew that you had the option to control your own pain medications through IV but you did not want to fall back into a deep sleep, especially not when James Barnes was sitting before you. "I thought you hated me." You admitted. "You didn't even come down to see me off before the surgery. Rogers was there, even Wilson and Carter. But you were nowhere to be seen."

"I'm sorry, I couldn't be there. I wanted to. But a trauma came in, flail chest, I had to go down for a consult and I was held up." He replied as he reached forward to take your hand in his. "How are you feeling?"

You gave him a nod as you smiled weakly, feeling his gentle grip against your hand. "For someone who's missing a pound of flesh, it's not as painful as I thought it would be. But then there are also several tubes attached to my body and that's not the most attractive thing on the planet." A part of you was worried that you probably looked like a disaster. Along with the IV that was pumping fluids and medications into your body to keep you hydrated, you also had a catheter in your bladder to prevent you from having to get up to go to the bathroom, and several drainage tubes in your abdomen to drain the blood and bile from your body after the surgery. A part of you was embarrassed to have Bucky see you like this. Despite the fact that he was a doctor, who was definitely used to dealing with much worse on a daily basis, you couldn't help but wonder if he thought you were unattractive like this.

"A pound of flesh?" He asked, giving you a confused look.

"Shakespeare." You clarified, wincing again at the pain. A part of you wanted to up the dose on your pain medications. But you feared the risk of the nausea and other complications and side effects that would follow. "The Merchant of Venice takes out a loan and promises to pay Shylock a pound of his flesh... if he doesn't pay back the money on time. It's a good play. You should read it sometime, you know... if you ever find yourself with a day off from cutting into people's broken hearts." You fought the urge to laugh but you failed, feeling the pain in your abdomen only growing by the second.

"Oh, I don't think I could be able to handle Shakespeare. I wasn't the best student in my English class and I was more into the science side of things."

"And you have the medical degree to prove it." You stated with another laugh, only to wince again at the pain which continued to get worse. "Oh fuck..."

Bucky leaned over in his chair to reach for your PCA remote on the bed side, his eyes filled with worry as his lips curled into a frown. He looked over at you for approval. "Do you want me to do it?"

"I thought I could avoid having to pump all those drugs into my body but..." You paused and bit down on your bottom lip as the pain took over your entire abdomen, making you hold your breath for a moment in hopes that it would dissolve. But it only got worse. "Please..?" You shut your eyes as the tears pricked at your eyes, hoping that Dr. Barnes wouldn't notice them stream down your face.

"Y/N..." He hated to see you in pain. "Are you sure you don't want me to page Romanoff?"

"Oh shit, that hurts like a bitch." You felt him squeeze your hand before pushing the button for another dose of pain meds to pump through your IV. "No, no... it's fine. She'll be down here for rounds anyways. Don't bother rushing her to get to work this early in the morning. She's not a morning person and would probably kill you. Just give me the meds. I should be fine."

He nodded as he watched the computer screen, making sure the medication was being pumped into your IV as it was supposed to. "If you start feel drowsy, you just let me know, okay? Don't try to fight it. You lost a lot of fluids. You need to rest." He still hadn't let go of your hand and you squeezed it tightly as you waited for the pain meds to kick in.

"Don't you have rounds? You should go. I should be fine once the drugs kick in." You loosened your grip on his hand wanting to let him go back to work, but he still held onto it, never letting go.

"I went over my weekly limit and I got the next two days off. I just thought I might stick around so that you won't be alone." He told you, making the pain stricken tears finally stream down your face. You couldn't hold them in anymore. Perhaps it was the medication or the emotional trauma that came with having your abdomen cut open. You felt stupid. He had been right. Your family did not care about you. You were alone. He was only here because he pitied you.

"You don't have to do that."

"But I want to."

As you began to feel drowsy, your mind refused to believe what you were hearing. Did Dr. Barnes just say that he wanted to spend his day off by your bedside? You shut your eyes, trying not to lose your consciousness as you slowly felt the pain begin to numb away. Bucky still hadn't let your hand go as he sat down next to you. "You were right, Dr. Barnes." You whispered but you weren't sure if he had heard you. Perhaps, you had just thought it in your head and he hadn't heard you. But he did not respond for a moment.

"Well, you're better than me, doll." You heard him whisper and then you felt his warm breath against your eyelids. It took you a moment for you to realize that he was leaning over your bed. You then felt his free hand stroking your hair before your felt his soft lips press gently against your forehead. You felt it all, the love that he had been holding in his heart for all these years. He probably thought you wouldn't have noticed. But you had.

#bucky barnes x reader #buck barnes au #doctor!bucky #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fluff #tw abuse #tw alchoholism #tw surgery #tw needles #tw pain #tw drugs #tw hospital #aj writes #better

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writing-the-end · 4 years

Text

Exodus- Part 6

Previous Part

An Edolas Hermit Story (AU belongs to @theguardiansofredland )

Impulse wakes up in strange places, but surrounded by familiar faces. Not all of them welcome. But these people are not like the villains and heroes he knows from Hermitland. They’re different, and he can’t tell what’s real and what’s false.

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I know a lot of you can’t wait to see Impulse, Tango, and Zed meet, but I just have to make the tension a little higher before we get that wonderful reunion!

Also, if you like my writing check out my story Wandering Stars! It’s a novel sized story with D&D like action and a few wayward trips to the world of the Hermits by our three adventurers! Check out Chapter 1 Here!

Warning: This story contains general dark elements and language. Blood and needle warning for this part.

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Impulse gasps to reality, finally escaping the inky darkness of sleep. He’s been trying to wake up for...well, he can’t tell how long. Hours? Days? Weeks? But it felt like he was walking through sludge, worse than wading across water to get to where he is now. Impulse’s eyes dart around the room, taking everything in. Every sense is wild and alive.

The room is small, only a few beds lined against the wall. Pure white walls, white sheets, white everything nearly blinds Impulse against the harsh fluorescent lights. It smells just as sterile as it looks, a hint of cleaning supplies and saline in the air. Beside Impulse, he can hear the steady, but rising beeps of his own heartbeat. A screen shows the constant rise and fall, each peak and trough growing in frequency as Impulse gathers more information about the world around him. He follows the grey cord from the heart rate monitor, down to his right arm.

It’s there he also sees the other line tying him down. A thin needle beneath his skin, clear liquid dripping from a bag held above his head. The beeping of the monitor rises to frenzied pace, Impulse grabbing at the IV tube in his arm and ripping it free of his skin. He holds down the bloody pinprick, leaping from his bed. His right foot becomes entangled in the cords all around his bed, tugging on the white bandages that match the ones wrapped securely around his arms. He collapses, finding that the floor is becoming quite familiar to him. Impulse finally rips the heart rate monitor off his finger, the incessant beeping filling his head even after it stops.

Impulse needs to get out of here. Wherever here is, nothing is good about it. It looks too much like Bastion Towers. Where he was held, put through that horrible rehabilitation. Wounded and weak, Impulse struggles to his feet and limps to the doorway. He needs to get out of here, figure out where the hell he is. Is this the End? Or...has he met his own end? Is the afterlife supposed to be this painful?

He reaches a bloody hand for the door’s handle, but it moves before he can touch it. Bursting open, he sees two faces he never wanted to see ever again.

Doc and Cub. Their foreheads are creased with wrinkles, eyes glimmering with worry until they rest on Impulse. Cub steps forward. “Thank goodness you’re finally awake, kidd-”

Cub narrowly dodges as a metal tray is flung at his head. The stranger collapses backwards, grabbing anything within his reach and flinging it at Cub and Doc. The latter yelps, taking cover behind a filing cabinet. Cub dares to press forward, despite the screaming and projectiles. “No! No, I won’t let you take me back! Get away from me!”

“Wha- hold on kid what are you talking about?” Cub pauses, confused. Just short enough time for the stranger to get his hands on a thin scalpel. He shakes as he brandishes the medical tool, blood pouring from where he had ripped the IV drip out. The white bandages on his other arm are stained with bright red blood, new bruises already beginning to appear. It was the crashing noise that alerted them to the trouble within the infirmary.

Cub steps forward, but Impulse swings the sharp knife, and he immediately backs off. This isn’t right, something is wrong. Impulse knows it. Cub is playing with him, pretending to be his friend. Lull him into a false sense of security. This is the man that chased him through that damned forest, tracked him down like a wild animal. There’s a lapse of silence between the two, neither moving in the stalemate.

Until Doc peeks his head out from behind the cabinets. “Is everything safe to-”

He ducks back in as the stranger cries out, throwing the scalpel in Doc’s direction and retreating. He starts to clamber onto the beds like a feral cat, jumping for the high windows of the guild’s infirmary. Doc covers his ears at the sound of glass shattering, and Cub grunting from beyond his hiding spot. “Xisuma! Help!”

Xisuma careens into the room, crashing into the doorframe to reach the cry for help as soon as possible. He looks across the infirmary, at the scene before him. Doc is hiding behind a cabinet, and the room looks like a tornado has blown through it. Cub and the stranger are in the center of the room, surrounded by shards of broken glass. Cub is yelling, begging for the stranger to stop, that he’s only going to hurt himself more. But the patient won’t listen.

“Xisuma! We need to sedate him before he hurts himself more!” Cub calls, holding down the kid’s arms before yelping as the frenzied stranger bites him. Xisuma slides across the floor, pulling out a syringe filled with green liquid. Cub notices the neon sedative as Xisuma flicks bubbles free of it. “Not the experimental one you made on the way here!”

The mad scientist pouts, but puts the fun syringe aside for a more mundane, more boring method. Cub holds down the stranger, his face creased with worry and even a few tears in his eyes. Why is this kid so terrified that he was willing to jump out a window to make an escape? Xisuma lends his free hand, holding the struggling patient still and letting the syringe pinch into his skin.

Impulse’s screams seem to fall on deaf ears, trying to escape the grasp that Cub and Xisuma have on him. Holding him down, preventing him from escape. They did it. They finally caught him, pressing his shoulders and arms against the cold tile floors. Impulse feels hot tears sting at his eyes, watching as he grabs at the labcoat on Xisuma. Trying to rip his hand off the syringe in Impulse’s shoulder. But it does nothing, and he feels his mind grow cloudy as the needle is pulled away from his body.

His hand, bloody from glass and the IV drip, slips away from Xisuma’s white coat. It leaves a red stain down the burnt and tattered fabric. The weight of his limbs feel like ten tons of rock, and the voices around him drift in and out of clarity. “I don’t know what’s going on...he hurt himself trying to get…what is going on?”

What is going on?

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

Ren sips his tea, much quieter than the slurping noise that his friend Grian makes as he chugs the last of his warm drink. Ren sighs, closing his book and stretching out his arms on the bed in front of him. He kneads the warm white blanket before standing. “I’ll get us another mug.”

“Can you get a new one for him?” Grian picks up the mug, completely full with now lukewarm tea. If he were this stranger in the bed, he’d want a warm cup of tea when he woke up.

Ren smiles, taking all three cups out of the infirmary and to a kettle of boiling water. He quietly dumps the cold tea down the drain, watching the tea extract flush away. What a waste of tea, but he understands Grian’s concern. He hums to himself as he lets the warm drinks steep, adding in the honey and sugar to an exact amount that both he and Grian enjoy. He can only guess for the stranger.

When Ren returns with three full mugs of steaming hot tea, Grian is talking. Not to himself- the stranger is awake. Grian’s soft voice and even softer attitude has managed to keep the patient in bed, though Ren can read his body language well enough. The stranger is tense, about ready to leap into action at a moment’s notice. He makes his presence known to both of them, walking over slowly and setting down the drinks. Ren flicks his tail to the side, taking a seat next to Grian.

“Would you like some tea?” Grian whispers, offering the warm mug to the kid. He’s hardly even able to sit up, reattached to an IV but pale from all his wounds. For a second, the stranger only looks at the mug with a withering gaze, but eventually takes the hot drink. He holds it close, watching the drink for a minute. He finally drinks. “I’m Grian, and my feline friend here is Ren.”

Ren nods, picking up his notebook and scribbling down in the paper. He’s been keeping a ledger of notes since the stranger appeared, promising to give it to Cub later on. The first thing that Ren noted was that the patient has a trigger with certain people- specifically, the very person who rescued him, as well as Doc and X. He can’t help but wonder why. “What’s your name, stranger?”

“I-” Impulse pauses, looking down at his drink. Should he be trusting these two people? When he woke up, Grian was immediately pressing him back into bed. For such a short stature and seemingly diminutive nature, Grian was strong. But the gentle voice of the man with the bow tie, his calm face and soft touch eased him into a jaded calm. He’s not even sure if he should trust the tea the two gave him. It could be drugged- it could have tiny robots from Cub to reinstate the redstone tracking with him. But the tea felt good on his lips, warming his cold, pale body. “I’m Impulse.”

Saying his name aloud felt like he was signing his own arrest warrant. Surely now Xisuma and Cub would come barging in, dragging him back to rehabilitation- or somewhere much worse. But Grian and Ren glance at each other, sharing some silent conversation with only their eyes. Glimmers of words, facial twitches as sentences. Grian turns back, and lifts a tub of cookies. “Are you hungry? You look like you could use some sugar.”

“Wh-where am I?” Impulse questions, carefully plucking a cookie and nibbling on it.

“Well...you’re in our guild’s infirmary.” Grian taps his finger, setting a few cookies aside for some of the others. Cub and Xisuma really deserve a treat, they’ve been moping since the last time Impulse woke up.

Speak of the devil, Xisuma quietly opens the door to check in. Holding a clipboard of notes, he immediately cringes upon seeing Impulse awake. Impulse also reacts to Xisuma’s arrival, his heart rate monitor skyrocketing as he scrambles in his bed to get as far away from the new arrival as possible. Ren rests a firm but soft hand on Impulse’s shoulder. “It’s okay, Impulse, he won’t hurt you. He’s our friend, he’s here to help.”

“But...but General X…” Impulse stutters out, eyes never wavering from Xisuma as he carefully walks closer.

Xisuma sits down a few feet away, offering space for the stranger. He immediately starts scribbling notes, chicken scratch handwriting noting what Ren called the patient. Impulse. Xisuma’s head runs at a thousand kilometers per hour, before he finally realizes what is happening. An ecstatic spark gleams in Xisuma’s eyes, the mad in ‘mad scientist’ bubbling forward. “You aren’t from this world.”

Both Ren and Grian give Xisuma a confused look. What the hell is he talking about? Different worlds? He’s completely lost it. But Impulse seems to catch on, and offers a short nod. If Ren remembers something about the Impulse they had before, he was quick to catch onto just about everything put in front of him. “What are you talking about, X?”

Xisuma pushes his hair back, giving an excited grin. Impulse doesn’t rest from his coiled perch, eyes never leaving Xisuma in the chair nearby. He looks just like General Xisuma- but also nothing like him. His eyes show no sign of malice, though they are a bit wild. In fact, both of his eyes are still in working order. “Wha-what is this world called?”

“Edolas. I can’t believe it- you are true proof that other worlds exist!” Impulse squeaks as Xisuma hops his chair closer, putting more distance between himself and the strange version of Xisuma before him. “What is your world called? Are there other versions of us there as well? What about-”

“Whoa, too much man.” Ren pats Xisuma on the back, pushing him back to his seat with a flick of his bushy brown cat tail. Xisuma realizes he’s scaring Impulse, and shrinks back himself. He hated seeing the fear in the stranger’s eyes when they had to sedate him. He felt like a horrible person, a villain. But Impulse was only going to hurt himself more if he and Cub didn’t do something.

Ren pulls Xisuma away, handing off a folded note with a whisper in his ear. Impulse can only watch as Xisuma reads the note, glancing back up his way. There’s hurt in X’s eyes, the wild mop of brown hair tugged on by a scarred hand. But Xisuma nods to Ren, and creeps closer. Much slower, as calm as the mad scientist can be. “I just want to help, Impulse. Can I replace your IV drip?”

“What’s in there?” Impulse snaps, looking at the saline bag hanging above him. Is it some sort of sedative? A mind altering drug?

“It’s okay, Impulse.” Grian whispers, placing a warm and gentle hand on Impulse’s shaking fingers. “I promise, our friend here is a really nice guy.” He bites his lip, before adding on. “Once you get past his...ah, erratic behavior.”

Impulse glances at Xisuma, noting the crooked smile this Edolas Xisuma offers him. Erratic is the last thing he could call General Xisuma. But he nods, his eyes never wavering from X as he exchanges the nearly empty bag for a full one. Grian and Ren smile, their calm auras putting both Xisuma and Impulse at ease.

Ren hands off a cookie to Xisuma as he leaves, a note scribbled on the napkin that it sits on. Grian stays near Impulse, helping him relax and fall back to a healing sleep. What this time has shown Ren is one thing- this Impulse from another world fears three people above all. Doc, Xisuma, and Cub.

He can’t help but wonder why them? Doc and Cub are two of the sweetest people in their guild, and while Xisuma is a little strange his heart is always in the right place. They’re some of the best people in the guild.

So what were these backwards, villainous versions of their friends like? How was it so bad that even just seeing their faces could bring such terror, no matter how irrational such a thought is? What has this strange new Impulse been through?

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momentofmemory · 5 years

Text

fictober - day six

Prompt #6: “Yes, I’m aware. Your point?”

Fandom: Spider-Man (All Media Types/Tom Holland Films)

Warnings: Discussion of Parental Death, Bullying

Rating: G

Characters: Peter Parker & May Parker

Words: 2867

Author’s Note: part iv of a may & peter series, but works on its own. i made a terrible mistake the second i set a 2K precedent on these things, but i’m honestly really happy with how this turned out, so. enjoy. :)

>>Pros and Cons

Peter is ten years old, and whenever May watches him finish his math homework, his mind is so far beyond hers it feels like he should be the one helping her.

She knows he’s brilliant—with parents like his, how could he not be—and his teachers start suggesting they look into science magnets before he even enters middle school. She and Ben try to support his passions as much as they can, but the endowment Mary and Richard left has long since run out, and they can only afford so many expenses at once.

Which is why, when Peter comes home from school with sparkling eyes and a crinkled permission slip clutched in his hand, May feels a familiar sense of guilt creep up her spine.

“Hi May!” Peter chirps, slinging his backpack and the piece of paper down on the dining room table.

“Hi yourself,” she says, picking the bag back up and hanging it on the hook by the door. “Snack’s in the kitchen.”

Peter makes a beeline for the peanut butter sandwich in question—one of the few things Ben allows May to make, mostly because it involves zero actual kitchen appliances—and shoves half of it in his mouth. “You won’t believe what happened at school today.”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” May says, picking up the note from where it had fallen.

Peter swallows down white bread and store-brand peanut butter while May flips the permission slip over and reads the summary. Apparently there’s some kind of open lab session at the Museum of Science this Friday, and anyone from Peter’s school who wants to go is allowed to count it as one of their field trips for the year. It also includes an overnight lock-in for all kids ten and over, a cut off that Peter just barely meets.

“Isn’t it so cool?” Peter gushes, his sandwich properly consumed. “Mr. Abrams said there might even be an arc reactor replica in the special exhibit section!”

“I think we agreed to avoid all forms of Stark tech after the last expo you went to.” May hears Peter pour a glass of milk as she continues reading.

“This is totally different, May! No bad guys whatsoever.” He pauses. “Unless Flash shows up.”

“Who’s—”

“Anyway we get to go for like the entire day and do our own experiments and everything, it’s going to be awesome!” Peter skids back into the dining room and sits in one of the chairs, planting his elbows on the table and his chin in his hands. He stares up at her. “Soooo. I can go, right? Ned said he was going!”

May’s eyes find the dollar signs in the fine print and she winces: all expenses not paid. “I don’t know, Peter… didn’t you have another field trip just last month?”

“Yeah, but that was for the Museum of Math. Totally different.”

May frowns and rubs at her temples.

Peter, sensing her reluctance, launches himself to his feet. “I’ll get the board!”

“Peter—” May warns, but he’s scrambling off to the closet before she can stop him.

The board had been Ben’s idea: when Peter was seven, he’d bought an eleven by seventeen inch whiteboard and drawn a line in permanent ink down the middle, with “Peter” written on one side, and “The Adult” written on the other. The concept had been to help Peter learn how to balance pros and cons, and Peter had taken to it so well that he quickly learned to follow along without the visual. They still brought it out on occasion for added effect—like right now, apparently.

Peter returns from his quest and places the board on the table. He pops the cap off of the dry erase marker, and drawing a tally mark in the section labeled Peter, says, “One: it would be totally awesome. Point for me.”

He holds the marker out to May expectantly. After a moment, she sighs and takes it from him. “You’ve already gone on the required number of field trips for this semester.”

Peter frowns as May draws a line on her side. “I can qualify for extra credit if I go on more, though.”

“You’re at the top of your class, Peter, you don’t need any credit.” May draws a line on both her side and his side. “And aren’t you supposed to be saving money for the end of the year school project?”

Another line.

Peter scrunches up his face in thought, then grins. “Yeah, but I got a whole ten dollars from Mr. Delmar yesterday for helping look after his cat!”

…Line.

They continue swapping points for the next few minutes, and May has to admit that Peter does have a fair number of valid arguments. The board quickly fills up and by the time they’ve both run out of steam, there are ten careful lines drawn on both of their sides.

Peter stares miserably at the score: Parker rules state that all ties go to the adult. “…Ned will be there?”

May taps the marker against her thigh. “Yes, I’m aware.”

Peter’s eyes shoot back and forth between May and the whiteboard.

She sighs. “…Your point.”

Peter whoops in triumph as May draws the winning line in his side of the board, and she rolls her eyes and makes a mental note to ask for an extra shift tomorrow to make up for her lapse in judgement.

She doesn’t really mind, though. The electricity in Peter’s smile could generate enough energy to light up their entire apartment.

Peter talks about almost nothing but the trip for the next four days, and his enthusiasm is so infectious May finds she’s pretty excited about it, too.

Still, she has to remind him three times to pack his toothbrush and other necessities, and when he starts debating whether he should bring a change of clothes or the circuit board he’s been building out of parts fished from the dumpster, May wonders if he’s ready for an entire night on his own after all. She mentions this to Ben, who gets hung up on the fact that Peter has built an entire circuit board out of parts fished from the dumpster.

May concedes to this argument without having to get the whiteboard out.

Finally, Friday morning comes, and May bullies Ben into letting her drive so she can take Peter to school without risking being late for work herself. Peter clutches his backpack and chatters nonstop about all the things he’s hoping to build, but as they approach the parking lot his eagerness starts to dampen.

May flicks her blinker on and glances at him in the rearview mirror. “Drop off or walk you in?”

Peter runs his finger across the zipper on his backpack. “Walk in?”

“Sure thing, Tiger.”

May parks the car and takes Peter’s hand into hers, and together they walk up the marble steps of the school. His class is meeting outside, waiting for the Activities Bus to arrive, and May can see that several of the kids are already in the drop off area. She stops at the top of the steps and squeezes Peter’s shoulder.

“Got your toothbrush?”

“Yes.”

“Toothpaste?”

“Yes.”

“And that circuit board?”

Peter crinkles his nose and shrugs. “…Maybe.”

May shakes her head, and then gives him a little push towards his class. Peter stumbles a bit, caught off guard—poor guy’s always been a little clumsy—and then suddenly he’s spinning around and May has a ten year old wrapped around her waist.

“Bye, May,” he says, voice muffled by her coat. A warmth that has nothing to do with body heat steals into her chest, and she hugs him back.

“Bye, Peter.” She ruffles his hair. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

Peter nods, and then he’s scampering off, his reticence all but forgotten as he sees Ned waiting for him.

May watches a moment longer, just enjoying seeing him laugh, and then shoves her hands in her pockets and hurries back to her car.

Having the apartment just to Ben and herself when she gets off work does, May will admit, have its perks—namely, having Ben to herself. She can’t help but feel a little anxious about Peter, but her cell phone never rings and there’s nothing in her inbox, so she relaxes and allows herself to enjoy a quiet evening with her husband.

That sense of peace continues until she picks Peter up the next morning, and he refuses to look at her.

She’d thought he’d be bubbling over with stories from the evening, but all of his answers are perfunctory at best and snappish at worst, so May gives up trying to prompt him and just reminds him they need to pick some things up before going home.

Peter says nothing in response, and May knows something is very, very wrong.

It’s late on a Saturday morning, which means the tourists are out in full force when May and a very sullen Peter arrive at the market. May starts weaving her way through the crowd, and when a burly man bumps into her and separates her from Peter, for a heart-stopping second she thinks she’s lost him. The crowd parts and she catches sight of his blue backpack, and she snatches up his hand before he can disappear again.

May is shocked when he jerks away.

“Peter?”

He balls his fists and looks away, and another person barges between them because it’s New York.

“Peter,” May repeats, dodging around them. “Give me your hand before you get lost.”

“I won’t get lost,” Peter says, and juts his lower lip out.

“What—? Come on, I don’t have time for this, you need to—”

“I don’t need you.”

May looks at Peter in shock. “Excuse me?”

His cheeks flush and his head turns sharply away, but he doesn’t take it back. And then, so quiet May almost misses it, he whispers, “You’re not my mother.”

May swallows dry air, and even though the crowd has forced them together, she’s never felt so far away from him.

“Fine,” she says. “You follow me, then.”

May spins on her heel and makes her way to the vegetable vender, and while she’d like to say she doesn’t look back, she does, because she’s terrified he won’t be there.

She and Peter finish the rest of the errands in a similar fashion, responses clipped and Peter avoiding any kind of contact, no matter how incidental—even when she hands him the grocery bag to carry, he goes out of his way to keep their hands from brushing. When they get home, Peter goes straight to his room without even saying hi to Ben. He looks at her in bewilderment, about to head out the door himself.

May shrugs helplessly, and texts Ned’s mom before kissing her husband goodbye.

Fifteen minutes later, May’s staring at a blurry photo from yesterday of Peter hugging May on the steps, with the caption ‘MOMMA’S BOY—OH WAIT, HE DOESN’T HAVE ONE’ written on it.

After an intense interrogation, Ned admits Flash had texted the photo to the entire class, and had tormented Peter with it until one of the teachers stepped in (conveniently just before the parents arrived). He also swears Flash didn’t get ahold of it until that morning, so Peter really did have a good time for most of the trip.

…Just not the end.

May thanks Ned for his honesty and hangs up the phone. She drops her head into her hands and her hair curtains her face.

Couldn’t Parker luck have given him a break just once?

She sits in silence and wonders how on earth she’s going to fix this. Then she stands, pulls back her hair, and puts the kettle on the stove—Ben isn’t here to stop her—and fixes two slightly scalded mugs of hot chocolate.

She taps on Peter’s door, mugs balanced precariously in one hand. There’s no response, but Peter doesn’t tell her to go away, either. She takes it as the closest to an invitation as she’s going to get.

The lights are off, and Peter’s backpack has been abandoned on the floor, and the circuit board he’d been so proud of looks a lot more warped than May remembered it being. Peter himself is curled up on his bed, facing the wall. He rolls over onto his back when May walks in, though his gaze remains fixed on the ceiling. The tear tracks on his face glisten in the light from the door.

“Ned told you?”

“He’s a good friend.” May sets the mugs down on his bedside table. “I’m going to have a long talk with your teachers about this.”

Peter lets out a long breath. “I should quit school.”

“I think we might be getting ahead of ourselves.”

“Nope.” Peter rubs his arm across his face. “Actually I don’t think I can go out in public again. Ever.”

May looks at him thoughtfully, then walks out of the room. She comes back a few moments later carrying the whiteboard, and Peter groans.

“No, May, come on.”

“Too late,” May says, marking the board. “Point one: never having to face Flash again.”

Peter peeks out from under his arm and frowns. “You put that on the Adult side.”

“Correct. We’re playing Devil’s advocate today: I argue for your side, you argue for mine. Your turn.”

“This seems unfair,” Peter says, but he pulls himself into a seated position and takes one of the mugs. “I… would never graduate or get a job?”

May places two marks under Peter, and then one under Adult. “Counterpoint: lots of people work from home. You could do everything online for the rest of your life.”

“Yeah, but then I wouldn’t be able to make like, friends and stuff. Or go see movies.”

May draws another two marks and Peter scowls. “I feel like it’s unfair that you’re marking down two for me and only one for you every time.”

“Stop making so many points, then,” May replies. “How about this: no friends means no one can make fun of you for having them.”

“I think not having things was the problem, actually.”

May freezes midway through drawing the line. Shit.

Peter offers her a watery smile. “Maybe put that on the other side?”

He seems sad, but sincere enough, so May wipes her finger over the unfinished line and places one on Peter’s. She sets the board down. “Peter, I—”

“I’m sorry.” Tears swim into Peter’s eyes and drop into his cocoa. “I didn’t mean it when I said—I said—” He holds the mug tighter to his chest. “…I just really miss her.”

May closes her eyes, and then sits down on the bed next to Peter and pulls him to her. “Me too, Peter. Me too.”

She runs her hand through his hair. “Did I ever tell you how much you remind me of her?”

Peter looks up. “…Really?”

“Really.”

May picks up the second mug for herself, and as they drink their cocoa May tells Peter about how much she loved the sound of Mary’s laugh. The way she always tossed her hair back and how her entire body would shake, holding nothing back, and the sheer exuberance she had for life—similar to Peter’s, in many ways. About all the trouble they used to get into together, and how happy Mary’d been when Peter was born. How she thought he hung the moon, and how she wanted to give him the stars in return. How much she loved him.

“May?”

She takes a sip of cocoa and hums.

Peter plays with his thumbs. “…I really didn’t mean it.”

Chocolate coats May’s tongue before gliding down her throat, but it doesn’t feel nearly as warm as Peter’s words. “I know, buddy. I need you, too.”

Peter glows, and May takes the last sip of her drink.

“Now. Since you’ve decided hanging out with me is cool again,” May says, wiping down the board, “wanna go dumpster diving for some tech while I tell you some more stories?”

“Really?” Peter’s thousand-watt smile lights up his face.

May plucks the empty cocoa cup out of his hand. “Really. We might even hit up some of the fancier ones in Manhattan, if you’re really lucky.”

“Whoa, cool!”

Peter races off to get his jacket and shoes, and May smiles. She doesn’t have the foggiest idea what kinds of things to help Peter look for, but she’d spent a night or two playing lookout for one Mary Parker during her wilder years. She was more than willing to watch over Mary’s son, too.

She stands and puts the whiteboard back in the closet, closing the door just as Peter finishes putting on his boots.

“Ready?”

Peter nods vigorously, and May grabs her keys as they walk out, locking the door behind them. May starts to walk down the stairs, and then a small hand slips into hers.

May looks down in surprise, and Peter flushes, but doesn’t let go. May squeezes his hand and doesn’t say anything as they walk out onto the streets, because she’s not his mom, and that’s okay.

She’s still his, and he’s still hers, and that’s all they need.

#fictober19 #tw:bullying #tw: parental death #peter parker #peter parker fic #may parker #spiderman #fanfiction #i'm 100% going to need to go over these for repetitive lines #but for now #yay #<3 #may&peter #memsfic

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ilovemygaydad · 5 years

Text

Friends in Dark Places [ch 4]

pairing: eventual moxiety, eventual logince, background eventual remile, background eventual remy/emile/deceit

WARNINGS: food mentions, swearing, mentions of injury, anxiety, roman’s kind of a dick but he feels bad, a single flirtation, possibly something else

tag list: @hufflepuffgirl01 @cocobearthe4th @cas-is-a-hunter@band-be-boss-blog @theunoriginaldaisy

a/n: so i have to repost all of these in a different format! yay fucking me!!!! please consider reblogging these if you’re a fan of this series because it’s all fucked up now

first - previous - next - companions

consider buying me a coffee (please)

Roman didn’t know what he’d expected to see when he walked into Virgil’s hospital room, but it certainly wasn’t that. Patton was sitting in the bed with the pretty much stranger, eyes closed, arms wrapped around him, and chin resting on his head. Virgil was asleep, which, after the day’s events, wasn’t very surprising. He could hear Patton softly humming a son that he couldn’t exactly place.

“Hey, Pat! We brought you some spaghetti from the cafeteria and a gift for Virgil.” Roman made sure to keep his voice quiet, not wanting to disturb the sleeping teen just feet away. Patton opened his eyes and smiled an incredibly bright smile. He motioned towards the over-the-bed table tray thing (Roman couldn’t think of a single word to describe the atrocity on wheels). Roman gave Pat his dinner while Logan set to organizing the luggage they’d brought with them.

“Did we have any Comm Arts homework tonight?” Patton quietly asked between bites of pasta.

“No,” Logan told him. “But we do have to do a page in the Physics packet. It’s only five problems, but they’re pretty long, and that’s coming from me.”

Patton groaned in response.

Roman added, “I also talked to your Child Guidance teacher, and she told me that your class was having a test tomorrow on Chapter Six. You should probably email her and ask if you’d be able to take it at home since I don’t assume you’ll be leaving Virgil alone.” He shot a knowing look to Pat as he said this. It wasn’t news that Patton was basically the dad friend; he was always caring about everyone else’s well being and stayed committed to them when they need support, even if that person was someone he’d just met. Especially if that person was someone he’d just met.

“Neither of us had time to ask your Psychology teacher about homework, but I’d just send him an email that explains your situation, and I’m sure he’ll give you a break. We know how worried you get, and we don’t want any excessive stress about school on top of that,” Logan added with a small smile.

“Thanks, guys! You’re the best friends I could ask for.” Patton had somehow finished his entire plate of food in the less than two minute conversation and had opened up his phone to email his teachers.

The instant the phone had been turned off, Logan spoke up once more. “Patton, I know you want to look after Virgil, but have you gotten any sleep in the past twenty four hours? You look like a figurative zombie.” Roman couldn’t help but agree. Intense bags had formed under his friend’s eyes, and he looked as if he would fall asleep at any moment.

“I’m okay, guys. I promi--” Patton’s words got cut off by an intense yawn.

“Point proven. We’ll look after him while you rest, okay? Roman, get out the blanket that we packed.” Logan’s words, although could be taken as harsh, were very gentle and kind. Patton wiggled out from under Virgil, being careful not to wake him up. Roman handed over the blanket and guided him to the padded bench in the corner of the room. Almost as soon as Patton had set his head on the blanket, he was out. The two remaining teens smiled at their loving friend.

“Who the fuck are you two?!” Virgil screeched. Upon waking up, he had found himself in his hospital room with Patton asleep in the corner and two random guys playing what looked like chess three feet away.

“Welcome back to the living, Creeping Beauty,” muttered the smaller guy in the red short sleeved button up with little white hearts, not looking up from the game.

“My name is Logan Christiansen, and this is my friend Roman Patrick. We’re friends with Patton, and we have been tasked with watching over you while he gets a little sleep.” The guy in the tie, Logan, adjusted his glasses and made a move on the board in front of him. “Check mate, Roman.”

Virgil sighed and looked around the room for something to do while Logan and Roman were playing chess. He spotted his suitcase and instantly got a little happier.

“Did you guys happen to bring my phone and headphones?” Honestly, he didn’t care if he sounded like a little kid in a candy store. He’d been craving the ability to listen to something loud so that he could wash out all of the bad thoughts in his mind.

“Yeah,” Roman answered. “It’s in your backpack. Give me a second to find it.” He got up and rummaged through the black backpack a few feet away until he found what he was looking for. He dropped it on the lap of Virgil and went right back to playing his game.

Navigating a phone with barely any of his fingers unbandaged was a task, to say the least, but Virgil eventually got open the music app and put it on shuffle. The first song to come up was “Novocaine” by Fall Out Boy. A smile spread on his face. He closed his eyes and let the music soothe him until he fell back to sleep.

Roman glanced at where Logan had fallen asleep in the middle of a physics problem and sighed. He’d accidentally left his phone in the car and was hopelessly bored. The teen dramatically propped his feet up onto the hospital bed and threw his head back.

“Hey, Drama Queen. Is there any way you could get me some food?” Roman’s head snapped to look at Virgil, who was looking at him with disinterest.

“First of all,” Roman started. “I am not a ‘Drama Queen.’ Second, I think that the cafeteria closed at eight, and it’s well past ten right now.”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Awesome. Truly, how could this day get any better? An astounding ending,” the boy muttered as he ran a bandaged hand through his hair. Admittedly, Roman felt bad for the kid. He’d had a really rough day, and not being able to eat was probably weighing on him. With a sudden change of heart, Roman stood up and grabbed his wallet.

“Would you rather stay here, or do you want me to grab you a wheelchair so I can push you around on a quest for food?” For a second, Roman almost swore that he had seen a hint of a smile flash across Virgil’s face.

“Wheelchair.” Virgil swung his legs until they hung off the side of his mattress and slowly sat up, taking hold of his IV stand in the process.

It only took Roman a minute to find a wheelchair that he could use. Virgil hopped off the bed, almost eating shit in the process, and plunked himself into the wheelchair. Their quest for some sustenance started with very few setbacks until they reached the elevators.

“Oh, shit! I forgot that I’d have to take the elevator. Fuck.” It took all of Roman’s self control not to laugh at that comment.

“Afraid of elevators, Dr. Disasterology?” Roman teased.

“Shut up, asshole.” Virgil sneered. “Look, there’s a lot that could go wrong in an elevator, not to mention that it’s fucking tiny.”

“Well, it’s too late to turn back now.” Roman pushed the wheelchair into the elevator and hit the button for the third floor. All color had drained out of Virgil’s face as soon as the elevator had started to move. It only took a second for Roman to realize that his actions had been a dick move.

“Virgil, are you going to be okay? We can abort the mission and just go back if you nee--”

“No. We’re going,” Virgil said through clenched teeth. The elevator dinged, announcing they’d reached the correct floor, and Roman pushed them out as soon as the doors were wide enough to allow for them to pass. He could visibly see Virgil calm down, which was both relieving and mildly terrifying at the same time.

“Let’s see if any of the vending machines are on. I think there are a few near the cafeteria, and they looked like they had some okay choices.” Roman murmured as he tried to gather his thoughts while they wandered around the hospital.

Virgil pointed to his left. “That looks kinda promising.” There was a lone vending machine tucked away in a corner. Its lights were on, but it didn’t look like it’d been touched in ages. Roman dramatically made racecar noises as he turned the wheelchair and pushed them towards the machine. He didn’t even need to be looking to know that Virgil had rolled his eyes.

Virgil scanned the contents of the machine once they’d arrived. It was full of options, and it looked like nothing had been bought.

“Alright, Prince Charming, can you buy me some of those veggie straw things and a cinnamon bun?”

Roman obliged, especially since he only had to spend a total of two dollars on the meal.

“Thanks, dude,” Virgil said as he tore open the bag of veggie straws.

“No problem. At least you’re not a food vacuum like Patton. He ate his entire plate of pasta in less than two minutes.” Virgil couldn’t help but laugh at that.

“Is that a challenge? Because I will totally fight him on that title of ‘food vacuum.’” He shoved a giant handful of chips into his mouth, immediately reaching for another. Roman had to pause navigating their way to the elevators to physically stop Virgil from stuffing his mouth.

There were exactly three other incidents were Virgil tried to shove copious amounts of food into his mouth, and the third happened to be at the same moment that they were arriving at the room. Roman opened the door to be greeted by a worried Patton, who was staring straight at Virgil as he ate a full handful of the chips.

Patton’s face instantly grew cheery as he saw the pair. “I was so worried about you two! I’m glad you’re okay; although, Roman, it was irresponsible to not leave a note explaining where you went. I almost woke up Logan and made him come with me to search for you!” Patton’s words were flying out of his mouth at a speed that was barely comprehensible.

“Sorry, Pat. I should’ve left a note. Virgil was really hungry, so we went to get him some--VIRGIL I SWEAR TO GOD DO NOT SHOVE THAT WHOLE CINNAMON BUN INTO YOUR MOUTH--food. Glad to see you got some sleep, though.” Roman gave Patton a quick hug before helping Virgil back into the bed.

“You and Logan should probably head out. I don’t want you two to be tired for school tomorrow.” Pat once again took a seat at Virgil’s side. Roman nodded and began to lightly shake Logan’s shoulder.

“Hey, sleepyhead. It’s time to get up so you can drive us home.”

“...What?” Logan asked, voice laced with tiredness.

“It’s around ten thirty, Lo. We need to get home and sleep in an actual bed, not on a chair. C’mon, dear heart,” Roman coaxed. It took Logan all of thirty seconds to actually process the information, and in that time Roman decided he’d be driving them to Logan’s house and staying there for the night.

After the duo packed up their things and said goodbye, Virgil and Patton were left alone in the dreary hospital room, where the only sounds were Virgil softly chewing on his cinnamon roll and the EKG machine.

“Did you have a good nap?” Virgil asked after a few minutes.

“Yeah, I did. How was your food adventure with Roman?” Patton was really curious. Out of Logan and Roman, he’d expected Virgil to dislike Roman’s dramatic nature far more than Logan’s intense intelligence.

“It was… interesting. Roman is totally dramatic, so it was way funnier to mess around with him and see his reactions.” Virgil thought back to the numerous times he’d messed around just to fuck with Roman and laughed. Seriously, Virgil, he’d scolded. I don’t want you choking on food on our way back up. Patton would literally kill me.

“Well that’s good, kiddo! And how are you feeling? Do you need me to get you anything?”

“I’m good, Patton. Really. I feel better than I have in a while, to be honest.” There was no lie in what Virgil said. He really did feel better than he had in a long time. All of the things that the trio of friends were doing for him made him feel really happy. Like, maybe he did actually matter.

“That’s wonderful!” The two sat in silence for a while before Virgil spoke up again.

“Thanks for everything you’re doing, Patton. I’ve been kind of an ass to you today.” Virgil focused on his hands. He was really embarrassed that he’d ended up in the hospital when everything could’ve been avoided if he’d just shut his fucking mouth and listened to Patton.

“Don’t worry about it. I told you earlier today that I’ve been in some rough times as well. It’s really, really hard on a person, and sometimes they do things they don’t really mean.” Patton reached up and ruffled Virgil’s hair, to which he protested. The duo broke out in laughter. Virgil really could get used to this whole having-friends thing.

“Do you want to listen to some music? I have some not-super-punk songs if you’d rather listen to something lighter.” Admittedly, “some not-super-punk songs” meant things like “20 Dollar Nosebleed” and “This is Gospel,” but technically they weren’t as punk rock the rest of his collection.

“We can listen to whatever you want, Virge. Don’t let me stop you from listening to the music you enjoy.”

Virgil shrugged and unplugged his headphones, turning up the volume at the same time. He hit shuffle on his playlist and let the sounds of “I’m Not Okay (I Promise)” fill the room.

The two teenagers sat there for a long while before both of them eventually fell asleep.

#sanders sides fic #m writes things #logince #moxiety #virgil sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders

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littlemonstersau-blog · 5 years

Text

The Feels Awaken, Part 3: A New Hope (for Friendship)

Written by @jkl-fff, illustrated by me

PART I - PART II [Interlude] - PART III - PART IV [Interlude] - PART V [FINAL] (you are here)

——————————————————————————————–

A new day dawned then waxed then began to wane, but Ford and Bill hardly noticed. A manic, obsessive energy (plus an unhealthy amount of coffee and sugar) kept them focused throughout their self-appointed task. Such is often the case for the kind of people who feel the need to write to right a wrong in the world. Not all heroes wear capes, after all; some wear turtlenecks and trenchcoats, some wear paper-based clones of teenage boys produced through unholy abominations of SCIENCE!.

… For that matter, not all heroes are particularly heroic; some are morally ambiguous straddlers of the line between antihero and antivillain, some are demonic chaos gods who (quite frankly) still wonder how in the 79 Hells they found themselves in this position.

In the end, though it did take more than the one night, they still finished in just over 16 hours. The plot outline came in at just over 18 pages, which they tidily stacked together on the table and declared to be more than adequate … before passing out on the carpet. Facefirst.

When Bill next regained consciousness, he was in his attic bed and morning light was streaming through the window. His mouth tasted like an abandoned prison for criminally insane chalk and his head felt like the internal turmoil of a buzzsaw having an existential crisis. It was a pain that was anything but hilarious; it was the sugared caffeine hangover equivalent of nuclear fallout … Mouthwash fixed the first problem. The second took an adult dosage of aspirin, a lot of water, and deliberate manipulation of many of the clonesuit’s normally automatic processes for a full eight minutes. And even then, not completely.

“Guess I can’t pilot one of these things through 36+ hours of no sleep on a gallon of coffee … Not if I wanna be able to still maneuver it the next day without crashing every ten feet into a wall or the floor, at least,” he grumbled to himself. “Major design flaw … Can’t believe they got evolutionarily approved for mass production with such weak durability …”

Downstairs in the kitchen, Stan greeted him jovially enough. “Stancakes are up, and so are you, it seems. How you feelin’ today?”

“Honestly, confused,” Bill graveled, his clonesuit throat still raw. “I can get longterm possession of a meatbag leading to me—y’know, the real me—developing emotions and physical cravings and other … gross, brain-mush junk like that. Neurochemistry is basically just an addictive habit, like how people respond to hearing the question ‘What is love?’—”

“Baby, don’t hurt me. Don’t hurt me no more,” Stan mumbled automatically.

“Exactly. But what I don’t get is why the real me is also feeling this coffee and sugar hangover. No joke: I tried leaving my clonesuit to get away from it, but it followed me. How is that fair? And, yeah, existence isn’t fair,” Bill interjected before Stan automatically could. “But still …”

Like the benevolent and experienced sage he was (more or less), Stan chuckled to himself. Then, laying a companionable arm around Bill’s shoulders, he leaned in and whispered the truth as grimly as Death itself, “You can outrun your sins, but you can never outrun a hangover.”

“W-wha?”

“Some say if you never stop drinkin’, it’ll never catch up with you. But they are fools. Sooner or later, all things must sleep—sooner or later, all who drink must suffer.”

“Uh … K-kinda freakin’ me out here.” Bill tried to lean away, but Stan’s hold was inescapable. “And, just sayin’, I’m kinda responsible for making most of the 79 Hells as freaky as they are.”

“Heed my warning, child.”

“I’m heeding! I’m heeding! Elder Gods, Stan, the only one who’s supposed to give people nightmares around here is me …”

Straightening up, Stan went back to the stove to continue what passed for cooking with him. “Once you’re done eatin’, by the way, I gotta plate for you to take down to Ford. He prob’ly needs some food and water more ‘n you do.”

Between mouthfuls of food, Bill said, “Yeah, sure … You seen what we wrote, by the way?”

“Yeah. It’s not bad at all. I’d def’nitely go see movies like that. Might even pay my own money for it, too. Heh … Even Soos admitted the storylines are better. Haven’t seen him that downcast ‘bout anything in a while, either. Looked as painful for him as cutting out his own kidney. Might have to do something nice for him soon just to make up for it,” Stan added to himself.

“Huh … Yeah, maybe …” Bill chewed on his breakfast, almost starting to maybe feel guilty. Then, when he finished, he put his dishes in the sink, picked up what was meant for Ford, and took it down to the lab.

Ford, as usual, was at his desk. He was hunched over with a pen, which was also fairly usual. However, and this was very unusual, all his notes and Journals had been pushed into a corner—neatly stacked, but well out of the way. Close to hand, as if for quick reference, was actually their Cosmos Conflicts storyline.

Bill cleared his throat. “Brought some breakfast for ya from Stan.” He set it on the desk, but away from any of the papers (just in case). “How you feeling? I woke up with a caffeine hangover I couldn’t escape even when I left my body. Er, clonsuit. Whatever. Same dif.”

“… I didn’t really sleep very deeply,” Ford eventually replied, his voice as hoarse as Bill’s. “Ergo, I can’t really say I woke up with such a hangover, but I’m suffering one all the same.”

“Yeesh, that sucks. Taken anything? Had some water and some food? That helped me.”

“Some water and aspirin, yes, though I’m not sure I could keep much food down … I suppose I ought to try, anyway.”

“If you feel more rotten than a two-week-old apple core, why are you working?” Bill asked, sliding the plate closer.

“I’m not really working, per se,” Ford answered guiltily. “Just … sketching. Some stuff. For what we came up with.”

Bill’s eyes lit up with interest. “Ooo! Really? Can I see? Please?”

For a moment, Ford’s jaw worked. As though trying to control himself.

“It’s okay,” Bill said hurriedly, though unable to fully contain his disappointment. “I get it. I’ll leave you al—”

A couple pages’ worth of images (some rough sketches, some little more than absent doodles, and some rather intricate and detailed) were thrust at the Demon. “Here. Can’t see any harm in you looking at them, anyway, so …” Ford mumbled. Without looking up, he cut in to his food. “Was just doing this since I’m too awake and restless to just not do anything, but too … wooly in the head, I suppose you could say, to do any productive work.”

Bill poured over them, delighting in the imaginative whimsy of them. Most were of characters from the prequels, though with distinctive touches—touches reflecting their own collaboration (such as Otherkin in a stained pilot’s attire, Imdolledupa aiming ruthlessly with a blaster, and Jelived Knights wearing a different style of clothing from Jelived Sentinels or Jelived Healers). But some were very different, especially among the doodles. “Ha! You made a Soos Wookie!”

Ford couldn’t resist smiling. “Soosbacca. Co-pilot to Stan Solo.”

“In their spaceship, the Mystery Falcon, right? Is Melody a Wookie, too?”

“Huh … That’s not a bad idea, actually. I was having a hard time seeing how to fit her in, since she isn’t really the Princess Leia type.”

“But Mabel and—pff!—Dipper are?” Bill snorted, pointing to where they were both sketched with the iconic braids wrapping around their ears. “Both of them together?”

“Well, they’re also both Luke, since I couldn’t really pick who fit which roll better.”

“Two sets of the twins running around, huh?” Bill murmured, though he was really thinking about two Dippers (and they weren’t running around, either—they were very much not running). “… And Wendy’s Lando, I see. Am I Yoda, since I’m the most triangular or everybody, and the right size?”

“Uh …” Ford hesitated.

“Pff, it’s alright, I can already see 3PO and R2 are both me.”

Lamely, the Weirdologist explained, “Because you’re shiny. That’s the extent of the logic.”

“You gonna do any more sketches?”

“Assuming I can keep breakfast down, probably,” Ford said around a mouthful. “It’s … distracting. And fun. And relaxing, too. Helps to pass the time on a down day like this.”

“Um … M-mind if I stay and watch? Please?” Bill almost begged. “Y’know how much I love watching you meatbags make art.”

“… Oh, fine,” Ford relented. Because what was the harm in being nice to the Demon? Ford didn’t have to trust him for that. “Just don’t make any noise. My head aches enough as it is.”

Bill mimed zipping his lips and throwing away the key before pulling up a chair and settling himself comfortably beside Ford. The only time he broke his silence after that was to ask Ford if he wanted more water, and to assert that the others would get a kick out of seeing these sketches (“especially Soos … the Twins, too, though we’d have to text ‘em a photo of ‘em, or mail the whole project to ‘em to see …”).

All in all, it turned out to be a rather nice day for both of them together.

#little monsters au #the feels awaken #bipper #stanford #bill cipher #writing #fanfiction #please excuse the dopey ass looking star wars sketches #also omfg this is finished finallyyyy #submission

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geniusgub · 5 years

Text

told you so//tom holland

warnings: fainting, hospitals, IV, malnourishment, talk of Heath Ledger and his death, sad boi Tom

///

inspired by tom's insta story where he thanked fans for his teen choice award win

///

Tom is always dedicated to his work and will do whatever he can to make the audience believe his character. He works endless hours on his lines, on understanding his character, and getting into the mindset of his role. But something he always dedicated a large amount of time to is his weight.

Spider-Man is an incredibly physical role. Tom was on set and doing stunts every day. He needed the muscle to support that, and he had to keep his weight constant so that his suit fit him and he didn't cause a giant problem for the wardrobe department.

But for Cherry, he's playing a veteran that is riddled with PTSD. He studied up on the disorder and discovered the effect it has on the human body, and decided that he needed to lose some of his muscle and drop some weight.

He didn't tell me this flat out though. I noticed him eating less and less over a week, after a particularly long and in depth production meeting. He decreased breakfast from a full meal to just a protein shake, and refused dinner on most days and replaced it with a workout at the gym. To say this new diet scares me is an understatement.

I'm not an actor. I don't completely understand his world. But I've been dating Tom for a few years, and I know enough to recognize that weight changing is a common practice in Hollywood. But just because it's common doesn't mean that it's right. I've heard horror stories in the media of certain roles burning out actors and ruining their lives, and that is the last thing I want to happen to Tom.

I watch as Tom comes sauntering into the kitchen, passing me with nothing but a kiss to my cheek and a whispered good morning, his voice gravely with sleep. I'm up early to study for an upcoming exam, papers already sprawled out on the island.

I sneakily watch as Tom pulls out ingredients such as protein powder, bananas, and peanut butter, then the blender. "Are you, uh-" I huff out a breath, looking down at my textbook, trying to make the conversation more nonchalant, "gonna have more than just a shake?"

"Don't think so," Tom murmurs as he starts slicing the banana. "I'm on this diet still, you know that." I open my mouth to respond but chose not to say anything, just shaking my head and deciding to drop the subject again. "What?" Tom quips after a moment of silence. "You have something else to say. I know you. Don't lie, you've got something to say."

I drop my highlighter and swing around on my barstool to face him. "Tommy, I'm just nervous about this diet, okay? I know that it's working and you're losing weight and muscle like you want to, but I'm just nervous how this is gonna affect your body and your health in the future. The last thing I want to happen is for this to ruin you."

Tom drops the banana in his hand and rushes over, placing his hands on my cheeks. "This isn't gonna ruin me. I'm okay, yeah? I'm completely fine. I'm just twenty pounds lighter. That's all."

My eyes widen and I grab onto his thinning wrists. "You've lost twenty pounds? Baby, that's too much. That's way too much! You told me ten pounds at first and I said that was too much, but twenty? That's too much!"

"It's not too much. I'm healthy, I promise." Tom swears, leaning his head forward and kissing my forehead. "We're only a week into shooting and the Russo's said everything looks great."

"I don't give a shit what the Russo's think. I care about you and your health-"

Tom huffs out a breath and drops his hands. "I am fine. You don't need to worry about me. My trainer says I'm fine, the medic on set says I'm fine, everyone agrees that I'm fine. I've only got another two months of this diet and then I'll have to bulk up for the next Avengers movie and I'll be back to the way I was before." He turns around and quickly finishes off his protein shake, putting it in a cup and closing the lid. "I'll see you tonight, okay? Good luck on your exam, I know you'll crush it."

He's kissing me and he's out the door before I can say anything else. Okay, so, that conversation didn't go anywhere close to what I had planned.

I pack up my books and head off to class for my exam, which is actually quite difficult. Or maybe I was just too busy thinking (worrying) about Tom to focus on a test. I guess I'll never know.

After my exam, I hurry off to my study of human behaviors class, hoping that today's topic will distract me from worrying about how my boyfriend is doing on set. But, of course, that hope is crushed when my professor pulls up a picture of Heath Ledger.

"Today we're going to be talking about Heath Ledger, and how his preparation for the role of the Joker effected him. Some believe the intense preparation even added to his death." She saunters around the front of the room without a care in the world, babbling on and on about how Ledger got into his character by locking himself in a hotel room and keeping a dark diary, filled with quotes, pictures, and his lines.

"Ledger was so deep into his character that he turned to medication to help him do things as simple as sleeping. Maggie Gyllenhaal even said that she could barely look at him while filming, and the crew was too nervous to be around him between takes because he would still be in character. So I pose this question to you all, did his dedication to his role and the extreme preparation for this role lead to his death?"

Oh god. Please no. This is exactly what I don't need to hear right now. Not today. Not while Tom is filming Cherry and I can't be with him at all times. Not when I get one text a day from him since he's so busy shooting scenes. Not ever.

Multiple hands shoot up to respond to the professors question. She picks a bubbly blonde in the front row. "His preparation definitely led to his death. He pushed himself too far and he couldn't handle the pressure of the movie, the pressure of stardom, the pressure of the Joker being so engrained in his mind. He couldn't shake it when filming ended, and it truly made him become some version of a psychopath."

Another student butts in. "Yeah, it's so obvious. He turned to drugs because he couldn't handle the role."

One other adds his opinion. "It's like Natalie Portman in Black Swan. She had to lose all this weight so she ate almonds and carrots for, like, months on end. And then she was in rehearsals all day and she dislocated a rib, but kept training. She said she thought she was gonna die on most days. It's very possible for actors to get so wrapped up in role that they lose a bit of reality. I totally think Heath Ledger died because of the Joker."

With that last student, I pick up my backpack and laptop and go stomping out of the lecture hall, choking back tears. I dramatically throw my belongings into my car and speed off, wiping my cheeks and trying to keep my emotions together.

I park in the first spot I see and jump out of my car, heading off to Tom's trailer, hoping that he'll be there, although the chances are slim. I've only been to Tom's trailer for Cherry once, and it was the first week of him filming. It's been lived in now, so I'm sure it looks quite different.

I hadn't expected his trailer to be a complete mess. At home, Tom is a little messy but always cleans up after himself. He clearly hasn't cleaned or let anyone clean up after him. There's clothes and shoes all over the floor and furniture, the sheets are messed up on the bed like he's been tossing and turning while sleeping, and the kitchen area is a complete wreck. There's a pile of papers and books on the coffee table that I make the terrible decision to investigate.

Having PTSD just messes up your whole life. I couldn't even get the energy to clean my house, or even my room, or my kitchen, or anything. I would throw things around and I would break things and just leave them. PTSD left me completely unable to function as a human. I couldn't sleep. How would I be expected to clean up after myself when I'm falling asleep standing?

Of course, his trailer like this is to keep himself in the character. I wonder if his costars can stand to look at him between takes.

The trailer door opens a moment later and I'm wishing it's Tom, but it's Harrison coming in, nonchalantly kicking a shoe aside to get to the fridge. "Oh hey, didn't know you were coming by. Tom didn't mention it."

"Is Tom gonna die?" I blurt out, my eyes pooling up with tears. Harrison's eyes widen at the wild question. "I'm scared he's gonna die. He's so into this character and he's gonna die, isn't he?"

"Oh my gosh, breathe, love. Tom isn't gonna die. Where are you getting this from?" Harrison takes a few steps closer to me, but it doesn't comfort me in any way.

"He's not eating, Harrison. I've seen him make food but I haven't seen him actually eat anything in almost a month. He's dealing with this disgusting trailer every day. I barely ever see him because he comes home and either goes straight to sleep or he's out at the gym until I'm asleep."

"Maybe you should talk to him." Harrison suggests. "Honestly, I'm worried about him too and I think you're the only person he'll listen to. You just gotta learn to keep your cool." He places his hands on my shoulders. "Why don't you go home and get some rest? I think you're just as tired as he is because you're stressing about it. I'll make sure that Tom goes straight home instead of going out, okay?"

I throw my arms around Harrison's waist in a much needed hug. "Thank you, Haz. You're the best."

"Yeah, I know I am." Harrison jokes with a shrug, letting me go. "Go, get out."

///

Tom doesn't come home for a while, not until I'm laying in bed, eyelids fluttering, ready to sleep. But the bedroom door creaks open, letting in a little bit of light. I listen as Tom bustles around the room to pull off his clothes, leaving him in just boxers for bed. He climbs into bed beside me, wrapping his arms around my waist. I sigh contently, melting into his embrace.

"How was your day?" I murmur, sleep slurring my words.

"It was fine. Go to sleep, you're exhausted." Tom whispers, placing lazy kisses to the back of my neck. "I love you."

///

The next morning is normal. Tom wakes up before me and takes a shower, leaving me alone in bed. But I get up and throw on a comfy sweater, preparing for my day of classes. Tom is heading downstairs as I'm pulling on my leggings, presumably for breakfast.

But just as I'm finishing brushing out my hair, I hear a relatively loud thump from downstairs. I immediately pause, listening for a yelled sorry from Tom, just anything.

"Tom?" I shout, creeping towards the open bedroom door. When I don't hear anything in response, I panic. I run downstairs and into the kitchen, finding the worst sight I could think of.

Tom is unconscious on the floor, a spot of blood on his forehead, and a whole slew of food on the stove. I drop to my knees, pushing Tom's hair out of his forehead. I reach onto the island and grab Tom's phone, unlocking it and dialing 999. I babble off to the operator that my boyfriend fainted when I was in the other room and I don't know exactly what happened, but that he's unconscious. She promises that an ambulance is two minutes away, that I should keep calm, and not move him.

I put the phone on speaker as I wait, setting it on the floor. And just as I do, Tom starts to stir, his eyebrows scrunching up and his head starting to swivel. I lean over him and place a hand on his cheek, forcing a smile, despite his closed eyes. "Hi, sweetheart. Hi, baby." I coo softly, my thumb rubbing across the skin. "Stay right where you are, okay?"

"What happened?" He murmurs, words slurred.

"I think you fainted. There's an ambulance coming, just don't move, baby boy, you'll be okay." I instruct him.

"Work." He whispers, head falling to the side.

"Don't worry about work. I'll call someone later on and tell them. You don't worry about that right now, okay? Just relax, I've got you."

The paramedics come knocking at the front door a moment later, sending me running over to answer it. I lead the paramedics over to where Tom is still laying in the kitchen, watching the paramedics lift him onto the stretcher and strap him in.

Tom reaches for me, making me rush over to his side. I place a hand on his cheek, moving my thumb against his soft skin, giving him a smile. "I'm right here, Tommy. Do you want me to call Harrison, or your mum or dad? Anyone?" Tom just nods, so I assume he wants someone. "Do you want me to come in the ambulance with you?" He nods again. "Okay, then I'm gonna go get some stuff and get right in there with you." He nods a third time, eyes closing all the way now.

I rush around the house in just a few seconds, pulling on a sweatshirt. I collect a backpack with a sweats for Tom, our wallets, our phones, chargers, money, and whatever I can find that we could need.

Tom is just being loaded into the ambulance when I go to lock the door and jump inside. I'm exiled to the corner while the paramedics start working on Tom, leaving me to send out texts to his family to tell them what's going on.

I'm with him every step of the way. I'm there as he rides to the hospital, I'm there as he gets brought right into a room, and I'm there as a doctor comes in to see him. But I'm pushed out a moment later to fill out paperwork, and I have to be separated from Tom.

I rush my way through the paperwork so I can get back to Tom. He would never leave me alone if I was in this situation, and I don't plan to do that to him. So I return the clipboard to a nurse and she leads me back to a different waiting room.

"You can just stay here until the doctor comes around to get you." I nod but have to hold in my groan. I just want to be with Tom.

I sit down and decide to check my phone, finding a few texts. Nikki and Dom says that the whole family is on their way, and Harrison says him and Tuwaine are leaving their golf outing to get here, but it's going to take a while.

I'm not sure how much time passes from when I get to the waiting room and when a doctor comes. Maybe it was ten minutes, maybe it was an hour. I wouldn't know. But a doctor comes around to get me, thankfully refraining from calling out Tom's name and avoiding any possible fan run-ins.

I jump up and rush toward him, smiling nervously. The doctor asks again if I'm here for Tom, to which I nod, and he leads me away from the waiting room.

"So, it seems that he's very malnourished." The doctor tells me, which is no surprise at all. "He is severely underweight and is also very dehydrated. Do you know why this is happening?"

We stop outside of his room and continue talking. "He's preparing for a movie role. His character has PTSD so he decided to lose a bit of weight. I told him it was too much but he swore he was fine."

"Do you know how much he lost?" I tell him twenty pounds and then a little about Tom's diet, and I can tell but his surprised face that Tom is in for some deep shit. "Wow, that's a lot for someone his age and weight. Basically, his body can't handle the work that he's making it do. If he's working on a film set and he's not eating properly, or at all, his body is going to give out because it can't support him. For now, I've got him on an IV drip to hydrate him and I'll come back in a little while to talk to you two about what to do from here."

"Okay, thank you so much. I can go in now?" The doctor nods and then heads off.

Tom's eyes are closed when I enter the room, but I can't quite tell if he's sleeping. Even still, there's a nurse taking his vitals who smiles at me, quickly finishing up and leaving the room.

Tom stirs when I sit in the chair beside his bed, scrunching up his crooked nose. I grab onto his free hand and move my thumb against his knuckles, taking a deep breath. "I can tell you're awake." I murmur, the tiniest smile on my face. "I know you too well."

The corners of Tom's mouth lift up in the tiniest, his eyes fluttering open slowly. "Hi." He mumbles, the word slurred.

"Hi, sweet boy." I keep my voice sweet and smooth. "How are you feeling?"

"Bad." Tom spits out, sighing. His eyes are squinting and he looks like he's in pain.

"Does your head hurt? The lights hurt?" He nods, so I stand and turn off the light, watching the wrinkles in his forehead smoothen out. "Did the doctor check you for a concussion?"

"I-I don't know."

I let go of Tom's hand again and poke my head out of the hospital room, flagging down a nurse. I tell her my concern and she promises to get a doctor in soon, then goes on her way.

"A doctor is coming, Tom." I take my seat again and lace our fingers.

A silence falls over us for a moment, but the quiet makes me more aware of the way Tom's hands are shaking.

"Are you feeling okay?" I whisper. "You're shaking. I just wanna make sure you're-"

"I'm sorry." And suddenly he's breaking down in tears, sobbing loudly. "You were right, I was wrong."

"Shh, sweetheart." I coo, moving to sit on the side of his bed. "Let's not talk about that right now. Right now, just relax and-"

"I don't wanna be here. I wanna go home." He whines, hand squeezing mine as tight as he can, which isn't much at all. He's far too weak.

"I know you do. But you've gotta be here so the doctors can help you get better so you can get home and get back to work. So let's not cry," I wipe my thumbs over his cheeks, "and just relax as much as you can. You can watch tv, close your eyes, so whatever. A doctor is hopefully coming soon to help you."

Tom looks at me with huge puppy eyes, rimmed red from tears. "You're not gonna leave me, right?"

A smile appears on my cheeks, but it feels forced. "Of course I'm not gonna leave you, pretty boy. I'll be right by your side this whole time and for the rest of your life, you know that."

His lips push out in a pout. "You can still call me pretty boy when I'm like this?"

"You'll always be my pretty boy." I leave forward and press a few kisses to his cheek, hopefully calming him down a bit.

The doctor comes back into the room a few moments later, and Tom forces me to hold his hand while the doctor inspects him again, this time for a concussion.

"Yep, your girlfriend is right, you've got a mild concussion. I'd assume you hit your head on something when you fainted, whether it was a cabinet or the floor. It's not too bad though, you should be fine in two or three weeks. But even still, I wanna keep you for the rest of the day. I know it's early, so we'll see how you're feeling later and see if you need to stay the night or you can go. We've got you on an IV to give you some vitamins and some essential things you've been missing out on over the past few weeks. You know where the nurses button is, if you need anything. I'll see you two later."

///

The rest of the day passes incredibly slowly. Tom's family shows up just a little bit after the doctor leaves. They stay for an hour or two, just to keep Tom entertained, but he's being very quiet and really only wants to talk to me. But his family is babying him and talking to him like a child. And as much as I do that to him when I'm consoling him, he absolutely hates when his family does it.

And then Harrison and Tuwaine show up and wreak havoc. I know it's for entertainment purposes and to make Tom laugh. They show up and throw a backpack onto Tom's bed, what's filled with my laptop, smuggled in fast food, some extra clothes for Tom, and a handful of dvd's. Then they loudly make their way around Tom's room, inspecting every single thing that is on the walls or in the relatively empty cabinets. I'm tempted to kick them out so they don't get in trouble, but Tom is laughing and his spirits are lifted, so I don't bother.

By the time a nurse is coming around with lunch for Tom, he's starving. I can hear his stomach rumbling, but that's a sound I've grown accustomed to.

Tom pushes around his food, not interested in the bland hospital food. "I really want what Haz and Tuwaine brought." He eyes the McDonald's bag on the other side of the room. "I don't want this shit."

"I don't know if your stomach can handle that. You haven't had fast food in months and I don't know if that's good for you-"

"Please, baby, I'm so hungry and this looks terrible." Tom begs, pushing the tray of food away from him.

I easily comply, not wanting to put up a fight with him when he's feeling so tortured at the moment. I open the bag and find a ridiculous amount of food, more than me and Tom could ever eat.

"God, these idiots must have bought the whole store out. What do you want-burger, fries, nuggets?"

"Yes." He responds, making me roll my eyes.

"You're impossible." I pull out a small fry, a cheeseburger, and six piece nugget and hand it over to him, watching him smile happily. "You're nuts. Please eat slowly and drink a lot of water. I don't want you getting sick and throwing up."

"Can we watch a movie too?" He shoves a nugget in his mouth and gestures to my laptop. I agree, pulling up Netflix and starting a random movie, setting my computer on the bed.

Thankfully, Tom doesn't have to stay the night. He's built up enough strength through the IV, food, and relaxation for the doctor to feel good about him going home. So he gets out of his hospital gown and into some sweats, signing discharge papers and wobbling out of the hospital room. And since I rode in the ambulance with Tom, Harrison comes to pick us up and drive us home.

"Looking a bit better, mate." Harrison says, giving Tom a bro hug when we get to the car.

"Thanks for picking us up." Tom mumbles before jumping into the backseat.

"Thank you so much, Haz. You're the best." I give him a tight hug before sitting beside Tom in the backseat and heading home.

///

"Do you wanna go up to bed or stay on the couch?" I ask once we step inside, dropping our bags beside the door. Tessa is off at his parents house, so our house is silent.

"I wanna go shower, and then go to bed." He mumbles, taking the lead upstairs and hobbling into the connected bathroom. I collect him some fresh boxers and a tee shirt, putting them on the counter for him when he's done. I busy myself by changing the sheets and fixing up the bed, distracting myself from the craziness of the day.

"Babe!" Tom starts calling. "Baby!"

I panic, fearing the worst, rushing into the bathroom. "What? What's wrong?"

"Will you come in with me?" He asks like a child, pouting, his curls dripping over his forehead.

"I thought something was wrong." I groan, but begin stripping off my clothes anyways. I step into the warm water and sigh of relief, happy to wash away the stress of the day. I immediately wrap my arms around Tom's skinny waist, burying my face in his neck. "I'm just glad you're okay."

"Yeah, me too." Tom sighs, hand running up and down my back gently. "Thank you for being there for me. You're the best girlfriend ever."

"Thanks." I chuckle with an eye roll. "I'm just glad you're home."

We finish up in the shower not long after, since being exposed to the warm water for too long could make Tom faint again. So we get dressed and crawl into bed, curling up under the cold duvet. I rest my head on Tom's chest and close my eyes, trying to drift off to sleep.

"You can say it now, you know?" Tom murmurs, lips ghosting over my forehead.

I smile softly, letting a beat pass. "I told you so."

#i dont know how to add a read below thing so sorry #reblog please!!!!#check out my wattpad #its @_obsessing #thanks for reading buddies

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vaguely-concerned · 6 years

Note

hi! i love your scoundrels and thieves au so much, ive been following it since you started and its one of my favorite mchanzo aus that i reread often, i dont know if ur open to possible prompts but ive always wondered about how do you think they reacted right before the recall (like being told the other was going to be at the overwatch base by genji) like thoughts of knowing youre going to see someone you havent seen in ten years and you still love them but you dont know if they still love u?

adsklfjsdkjhffsadfh thank you so so much ;___________; That really means a lot to me!

I can absolutely take a swing at how it might have gone down, atleast!

Jesse:Complete and unyielding denial. Like ‘ha ha niiiice try but contrary to popularbelief… good things… do not happen??? so I’ll just believe it when I see it andpretend it’s not happening in the meantime’ and then he did see it (‘it’ beingHanzo’s devastatingly handsome & beloved face, now with added SilverFoxness) and was like ‘…aw shit I didn’t prepare for this’

But also… he did turnup, so you know. Hope springs eternal, under all those strata of jaded world-wearinessand loss.

Hanzo: I’mimagining that this would be after a proper reconciliation with Genji, sopicture that after a long, deep, cathartic conversation about, y’know,forgiveness and brotherly love and how nuts their family really was and how thenew Overwatch might represent an opportunity for real redemption throughaction… Genji slyly looks at his brother out of the corner of his eye and adds“Also McCree will be there”

And Hanzo immediately palesto an unhealthy shade of grey and is like “Uh actually… now that I think aboutit I probably am very busy that day could we schedule that redemption for adifferent time or…”

Genji — who knows that hisweirdo cowboy co-worker was the only fucking thing that has ever made hissadsack brother happy — just hugs him and picks him up by the scruff of hisneck like ‘not only am I taking this horse to the veterinarian, I am alsomaking it heal’ (Meanwhile Zenyatta is giving him the proud thumbs up with allhis spectral arms)

(Hanzo vaguely feels likehe’s entering the situation on false pretenses, because he thinks he’s not thesame person Jesse used to love after all the shit that has happened — thereason he didn’t try to find him while they were both doing the wanderingthing, after all, was that he felt too broken/ashamed to face him and that if Jessestill felt the same he wouldn’t deserve it :( :( :( Phew I’m very glad they’renow making out & helping each other through it again, that’s some heavyshit)

Both of them were also so set on not presuming anything andrespectfully letting the other person make the first move that when theyfinally did meet they just…

yearned

at each other from across the base while Genjifacepalmed gently in the background the whole time, so they really are matchingwandering human catastrophes who belong together ha ha

#thank you so much for the lovely ask anon! :D #overwatch #mchanzo #Perhaps there is still a future for anachronisms #...maybe I should make a tag for scoundrels and thieves now that I think about it?#Scoundrels and Thieves 'verse #Anonymous #My writing

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hoyoungy · 6 years

Text

On-Air | Vernon/Hansol (V)

genre: fluff, comedy, slight angst, college au | vernon x radio personality!reader summary: under the pseudonym Honey, you are the host of the most popular radio show in the city called Honey Time Radio where you give advice about relationships, school, and life in general. when it comes to your own love-life, however, you don’t have the best luck, and you don’t even follow your own advice! so what happens when you get a call from a listener who’s asking you advice on how to get to your heart? word count: 3468 a/n: thank you all for the support thus far! it’s 4:30 am good night i need sleep lol. several warnings: swearing, alcohol, lots of platonic wonwoo x reader, and american fraternity life. as seen on my ao3

part iv, vi

“A party tonight, huh?” Wonwoo said, swinging around in his chair. “What kind of party?”

“What do you mean what kind of party, it’s a college party,” you said as-a-matter-of-factly.

“The type of college party that Hansol invited you to is just as important as the invite itself!”

“How?”

“If it’s a birthday party, he’s trying to claim you. Well, claim is such a terrible word, but I don’t know how else to explain it. Assuming the birthday party is most likely hosted by someone he’s close to, he wants to show you off to his friends and show you how serious he is. A fraternity party, on the other hand, is way different.”

“So what if he’s taking me to a frat party?”

“Fraternity, you uncultured swine, not frat,” Wonwoo scolded. “And I’ll kill him.”

“What, why!?”

“The sole purpose of a fraternity hosting a party that isn’t the afterset to one of their cancer-saving bullshit philanthropy events is to get the entire house laid. Lots of drunk, sexy people in one room gets things going, you know? Trust me on this one, I know from hands-on experience and it works every time, so if he’s trying to take you to a damn Sigma Tau party, I’ll kill him. Their parties always suck, anyways.”

“I always forget that you’re in a fraternity,” you snorted.

“Why? I’m hot enough to be in one.”

“It’s because you’re such a fuckin’ nerd.”

“Nerds can wear letters, too, you independent,” he pouted. “So what kind of party is it?”

“It’s Soonyoung’s birthday party.”

“Oh, cool! I’ll see you there then.”

“You’re going!? Thanks for the invite!” you scolded.

“I swear I was going to invite you literally right after this discussion. But hey, Hansol beat me to it, so good for him.”

“I’m not cool enough to be invited to parties, ok, that’s why I rely on you to tell me once you get the invite!”

“It slipped my mind, I’m sorry! I’ll remember next time!”

“Can I go with you tonight?”

“Why? Hansol’s not picking you up?”

“He’s helping set up, so he’ll be there already.”

“I mean, I guess we could go together,�� he said sarcastically. “Just don’t, you know, do what you always do and look awkward.”

“I might as well not go at all.”

“I’m kidding! But you have to take a shot with me once we walk in, no chaser.”

“Of what…”

“Silver tequila ~”

“You’re the devil incarnate,” you groaned, feeling yourself gagging already. “Fine.”

“Hurray! HonWoo ‘bouta turn up!”

“Never say that again. Hurry and press the button,” you sighed, slumping in your seat. Tonight was going to be a long night and you had no idea what to expect. But now wasn’t the time to worry.

“On-air in three… two… one…”

“What’s up, everyone!?” you greeted. “You’re on-air with Honey Time Radio, with Honey at the mic and Dj Wonwoo on the beat. It is a warm, thirsty Thursday evening, which means $10 bottles of soju at Ahjooma’s Corner! Make sure you stop on by and grab a bottle of soju while you’re eating with your friends, your significant other, or even your employer whom you’re trying to get drunk so you can get that raise! Mine and Wonwoo’s favorite flavor is the green apple soju. This is definitely sponsored content, but I was not paid to say that Ahjooma’s Corner has the best soondubu-jjigae ever, besides my mother’s. Love you, mom!

“For our first segment of the show tonight, we have a submission sent in by an anonymous listener. ‘Hey, Honey & Wonwoo! I’m a returning listener who has called for advice before, but I’m too nervous to call again because my identity might be found out! So here’s the thing; there’s this guy that I have been trying to get his attention, but every time I try, I either chicken out or he leaves right away to talk to someone else! I tried your advice last time, like small conversation starters, but I don’t think he’s that kind of person. There’s a party tonight and he’s going to be there. If he’s not into small talk, what do you think I should do?’”

You squinted at the submission on your laptop screen. Why did this scenario sound so familiar?

“Sounds like you’re in quite the pickle, anonymous,” you commented, a bit discouraged that your advice didn’t work, but glad they came back to ask. “You must really like him, huh? Well, if my advice didn’t work last time, I’d hate to ruin it a second time. Maybe Wonwoo can help?”

“Really!? Ah, it’s my time to shine!” he said while cracking his knuckles. “My advice is coming from my perspective - a guy’s perspective. I’m a lot like your guy in the sense that I hate small talk, too. I feel like the party scene is a lot easier to work with because you have a lot more leeway to break the ice. Does your guy like to drink? Ask him if he wants you to get a drink and start talking that way. Does he like drinking games? Ask him to be your partner. Does he like to dance? This one’s a bit more daring, but if you know how to bump n’ grind on the dance floor, that’ll really get his attention, if you know what I mean ~” Wonwoo chuckled at your gross expression. “It seems like he doesn’t like his time being wasted, so get straight to the point right away. Hope that helps.”

“You know, usually I would rather eat the cafeteria food than listen to Wonwoo’s advice, but that was actually pretty good…” you mused. “We should switch roles for a night.”

“I would never let you touch my soundboard. Only my fingers can make such magical sounds.”

“Why do you say things like that, it’s so weird… Anyways, we wish you all the best, Anonymous! Let us know how it went. Let’s take our first caller!”

“And that’s all for tonight, everyone. Tomorrow rings in a new day, so make sure you take the bull by the horns and seize it. Or something along those lines. You understand, what I mean, right? I’d like to give a special shoutout to a special listener by the name of Soonyoung. Happy birthday, Soonyoung! Stay safe at your party tonight. And as always, everyone else stay safe tonight, too. Use our Lyft code aka our official ship name, #HonWoo, for 20% off your ride. Thanks for listening, everyone. This is Honey signing off.”

“How did you manage to get us an Ahjooma’s Corner ad and a Lyft code?” Wonwoo asked after pressing the offline button. “The step team has been trying to get sponsors from both of them since forever!”

“Jeonghan’s like, the head chef or whatever at Ahjooma’s Corner and Seungkwan’s the brand ambassador for Lyft.”

“Seungkwan, that pink bastard,” Wonwoo cursed. “Are you going back to your apartment to change?”

“Yeah, I can’t go there looking like this.”

“Good, ‘cuz you look like trash.”

“You’re a great friend.”

When you got back to your apartment, it was already 10:30 which was thirty minutes after the party started but thirty minutes before the party started. In those remaining thirty minutes, you spent twenty-five of those throwing out every outfit you tried on, unsatisfied with the results.

“Yah, what’s taking you so long!?” Wonwoo yelled from your couch. “All the jungle juice is gonna be gone!”

“I don’t know what to wear!”

“It’s a fucking party, not the Yule Ball!”

“Can you shut up!? I’m done, for Christ’s sake!”

“If you take any longer, I’m gonna get you so drunk that Hansol’s gonna be the one carrying your ass back here -”

Wonwoo’s blabbering mouth fell silent when you left your room all ready to go. He didn’t know how you did it, but you managed to fix your hair, face, and get dressed in such a short amount of time and still look decent. Tonight, you didn’t look like _____. Tonight, you looked like Honey.

“Damn,” he said. “You look… put together for once. Tryna shake up Hansol?”

“Ugh, you complimenting me makes me feel uglier somehow.”

“I try to be nice one time…”

The walk to Soonyoung’s didn’t more than ten minutes. When you were a block away from the house, you could already hear the bumping music, loud cheers, and see the bright, colorful strobe lights. This party looked like it was straight out of an American college party movie, making Mingyu’s party look like the seventh grade sock hop.

“Jisoo Christ,” Wonwoo whistled. “Soonyoung really meant it when he said he was going to outdo his twenty-first…”

“Someone’s gotta clean all of that up eventually…”

“That’s what pledges are for,” he smirked. “C’mon, you promised me a tequila shot.”

The inside of the house was moist - it wreaked of booze, sweat, and lots of sugar. You and Wonwoo squeezed your way through the crowd to the kitchen, exchanging hellos to familiar faces and quick kisses on the cheek from drunk friends (who knew Minghao was so affectionate when drunk?)

A tall, double shot of clear poison glared at you, accompanied by its groupies lime and salt. The more you smelled the ethanol-like stench of tequila, the more you felt yourself gag.

“Cheers to a good night, _____,” Wonwoo said as you both raised your glasses. “May the alcohol be ever in our favor.”

With the cling of the glass, you licked the mound of salt, downed the juice, and sucked on a lime wedge. No amount of limes and salt could ease the burn of liquor travelling down your throat. One double shot in and you already felt like dying.

“Ha,” Wonwoo giggled. “Look at your face.”

“Taking a shot without the birthday boy!?” A familiar voice yelled, swinging his bare arm around your shoulder. A sweaty Soonyoung hugged you tightly as he grabbed a shot glass of his own. “Pour me one, Wonwoo.”

“Ugh, can’t we take something else?” you groaned, still not over the taste.

“Does Hennessey suit your needs, Princess _____?”

“Can I get a chaser?”

“Nuh uh, shorty,” Soonyoung grinned. “House rules - any shot with the birthday boy is straight.”

“God, you’re such a bro.” The gold liquid didn’t sting as much as tequila, but didn’t really taste any better. You felt the intoxication take over your body, hazing your vision, but you didn’t mind at all, although you probably should have ate before coming… Soonyoung squeezed your shoulder as a thank you for taking a shot with him.

“Have you seen Hansol?” you yelled over the music.

“You’re like the third girl that’s asked me tonight. Is it his birthday, too, or something!?” he pouted.

“Well, he’s the one that invited me -”

“He probably invited every fucking girl here,” he snorted. “He’s probably on the dance floor.”

“I’ll be heading there, then.”

“Wait, me too!”

Soonyoung had his hands over your shoulders, guiding you through the house to the living room, where the real party was happening. A sober Mingyu was the Dj for tonight, who apparently claimed that after his birthday, he was never going to drink again, or at least until after midterms. The entire room was packed with people, bodies swaying and grinding to the music, that you couldn’t even distinguish faces.

“Do you see him?” you asked Soonyoung, who clung to you closer in his drunk state.

“Yeah, but he seems a bit preoccupied…”

Your eyes followed to where Soonyoung pointed. Right in the middle of the dance floor was a flushed Hansol, grinding behind some poor soul who got caught in the same trap you were in. Even in your tipsy state, you recognized her - she was the same girl who Hansol said was bland at Mingyu’s party, the same girl who called that night to ask for advice on how to get his attention, and the same girl who anonymously sent you a submission a few hours ago on how to actually get his attention.

God, how could you be so stupid and not put the pieces together?

“Hyejin actually did it,” Soonyoung cheered behind you. “She’s been trying to talk to Hansol since their freshman year. About fuckin’ time. Who knew Wonwoo gave great advice.”

Oh, that’s right. Wonwoo was the one who advised her.

Do all guys think the fucking same?

Hyejin turned around, now facing Hansol as he kept his arms tightly wrapped around her tiny waist. Their faces were so close, any closer they would be making out and it made you want to throw up. In a room full of sweaty, sexually-driven drunk adults, the spotlight was on them, at least to you it was. The alcohol was really starting to kick in as your mind flashed through every smile, every laugh, and every form of affection that Hansol ever gave you.

In those moments, in such a short amount of time, you felt like you could fly.

But now, you felt like just another check off his list. And he was another one off of yours.

Six. That made six total guys who fucked you over.

Should you even be surprised at this point? But maybe you were overreacting… It’s not like you were even officially together. But why did it still hurt?

“Are you ok?” Soonyoung asked, shaking your shoulders. “You’re not going to throw up, are you? ‘Cuz that would suck.”

You snatched a cup of mystery drink from someone’s hand and chugged it down, ignoring the taste of cheap cinnamon liquer.

“Wanna dance?” you asked bitterly.

“Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for you to ask me that?” he slurred. “Years, _____, years. Fucking finally, let’s go.”

You were shocked when Soonyoung gently took your hand and led you towards the middle of the dance floor. You were even more shocked that you were having a lot of fun using him as a distraction to get your mind off of Hansol for the night.

But you were most shocked when you locked eyes with a Hansol after the fifth song with Soonyoung.

You weren’t even dancing that risque with him. Dancing with Soonyoung was filled with laughs and smiles from the goofiness that you shared together. Hansol watched you hunch over from laughing so hard too many times for him to count. You may not have had your ass grinding up against Soonyoung crotch, but not once did you let go of his hand. He twirled you, dipped you, swung you around like a boyfriend would.

Somehow imagining you grinding up against Soonyoung seemed less painful than the scene before him.

When you saw Hansol looking at you, you might have felt guilty from seeing how pale his face was if he wasn’t still glued to Hyejin. But since that was the case, you broke the chilling eye contact quickly and put all your attention to Soonyoung. It was satisfying knowing that you could finally get payback for all the shit you fell for.

“_____ ~!” Soonyoung groaned, tired from all the dancing. “I need to rehydrate!”

“Jungle juice?” you challenged.

“Jungle juice!”

“Wonwoo ~!” you screeched, stumbling into the kitchen. After the whole dance floor incident, you spent the rest of the night drinking whatever was in front of you to numb your entire body, Now it was almost three in the morning and you were drunk off your ass and achieved the optimal amount of numbness. Most of the guests left the house with the exception of Wonwoo and Soonyoung’s friends and a couple of girls that wanted to stay. This included Hansol and Hyejin, who stood next to each other with at least one inch of space between them for once.

You let out an obnoxious groan at the sight.

“What, you alcoholic?” he teased.

“Take me home.”

“Why don’t you ask Han -”

“HONEY TIME RADIO,” you interrupted loudly, causing Wonwoo’s eyes to widen. You didn’t even want to hear his name. “Is… A great show…!”

“Oh, I love Honey Time!” Soonyoung chimed, wrapping his arm around you again.

“Ew, since when were you two this close?” Wonwoo asked.

“Since… Today! Happy birthday!” you cheered. “Please, can you take me home…?”

“You can stay the night if you want,” Soonyoung offered.

“Nope, nuh-uh, I won’t allow it. Hansol, walk her home -”

“Ugh, shut up for once, Wonwoo!” you scolded. The whole room was silent at your outburst, but you didn’t care. You certainly didn’t care for Hansol’s hurt expression, either. “Forget it, I’ll go by myself.”

“Yah, _____ -!”

You stormed off into the dark streets. The beginning of the night was a lot warmer, but now you could feel every goosebump on your exposed skin. It felt numbing, but you didn’t care anymore. You were drunk, exhausted, and over it.

You knew someone was following behind you. You hoped it was either Wonwoo, Soonyoung, and even Mingyu, but you prayed to God it wasn’t Hansol - he was the last person you wanted to see. But normally, Wonwoo would be nagging you for being such a brat just now, Soonyoung would have walked really close to you, and Mingyu would have pulled you into a headlock. But the person behind you did neither of those things.

Hansol watched the way you walked in front of him. At first, your stride was angry - you stomped the concrete like you hate it. To be honest, it was really cute. But then you progressively got slower, dragging your feet and hanging your head low. You looked tired - no, exhausted - mentally, physically, emotionally, and it was all his fault.

You felt a heavy jacket get thrown over you shoulders before you fell face-first on the grass in front of you.

“Oh, shit,” Hansol said, kneeling beside you. “My bad. Are you ok?”

“Don’t touch me,” you muttered into the ground. “I’ll just lay here.”

“Then I’ll lay with you.”

“No, I don’t want you to.”

“Unless you can get up, you don’t have much of a choice, do you?”

“I can just feel your smug smirk piercing through me. I want to smack that smirk off of your dumb, beautiful face,” you threatened.

Hansol gently helped you up from the ground and held you at arms length. One hand plucked pieces of grass from your hair while the other kept you from swaying side-to-side. He couldn’t hold in his growing grin when you pouted at him with sleepy, half-lidded eyes.

“I said don’t touch me…”

“Why?”

“Because I’m not Hyejin.”

“And I’m not Soonyoung.”

“Obviously not by the way you danced with Hyejin tonight. Soonyoung can dance way better than you ever could! And it was the best time of my life!”

Hansol knows the intention behind your words was meant to hurt him, and to be honest, it did, but the way that you were acting was so cute that he ignored the slight sting in his chest.

“Do you want me to call him to walk you home instead?” he challenged, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Yes.”

“Ah, you were supposed to say no.”

You ignored his comment as you stumbled passed him, making your way home once more. Hansol continued to follow behind you, catching you at least three more times when you tripped on the uneven sidewalk, earning himself another three snarky remarks about how you weren’t Hyejin and to keep his hands off of you.

When you stood in front of you apartment, you chucked the jacket harshly in his face.

“I deserve that,” he said.

“Go home.”

“Are you jealous of Hyejin?”

“Are you jealous of Soonyoung?”

“Yes,” he admitted without hesitation, catching you off guard. “And Wonwoo. And Mingyu. And any guy who comes even close to you.”

“Why?” you scoffed.

“Are you jealous of Hyejin?” he repeated. The small smirk on his face told you he already knew the answer.

“… Yes.”

“Ok,” his smirk widened. “Good night, _____.”

“Wait, what? You can’t just leave! Now I have questions!” you cried.

“I’ll answer them when I see you tomorrow.”

“That’s funny, because I definitely don’t remember agreeing to that.”

“It’s my way of saying I want to see you tomorrow.” And before you realized it, Hansol started to back away, making him the winner of this sad argument. He winked, smiling at the charming way you blushed so easily. “Sweet dreams, _____.”

You slept two whole hours that night.

#svtwriters #sfwseventeen #hansol #vernon #seventeen #svt #seventeen vernon #seventeen hansol #svt hansol #svt vernon #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #svt imagines #svt scenarios #kpop #k-pop #this is all over the place bYE

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forever-rogue · 6 years

Text

Blend In - Part V (Finale)

Summary: Y/N had always been an expert at blending in. That was until Bucky found out her secrets and encourages her to deal with all her demons.

A/N: Thank you all for your support on this little series! It means the world to me! If you have any requests or anything, feel free to send them in!

Word Count: 2.5k

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: mentions of depression, self harm, eating disorders

PART I | PART II | PART III | PART IV

It had been 3 months since Y/N’s shocking reveal to the rest of the Avengers team.

Immediately afterwards she had regretted ever confessing any of her secrets and wished she had just remained quiet and stayed out of everyone’s way, but now, finally on the other side of things, she was happy she was found out and forced to face her demons.

That following morning, she had packed up her things, with the assistance of Bucky, and was sent on her way to a rehabilitation facility a few hours away in the countryside of New York. Tony had, of course, pulled a few strings and gotten her a spot at one of the best facilities around. After her bags had been packed and taken out the car, she said her goodbyes to everyone, holding back her tears. She was worried about how things would be when she returned; would they treat her differently, would they even want to work with her anymore?

Y/N turned to Bucky and gave him a small smile and wrapped her arms around him. He felt so warms and solid; she knew she would miss him most of all. A few tears spilled over and she made to wipe them away quickly but he beat her to it, gently wiping them away with his thumb.

“I’m going to miss you so much,” she confessed as he rested his forehead against hers. She inhaled deeply, trying to remember his warm scent.

“I’m going to miss you too,” he agreed, “but it won’t be forever. You’ll be back before you know it.”

“Promise?”

“Promise,” he pulled back and reached into his back pocket and pulled out a small envelope, “this is for you. This is for if you ever feel like you want to give up and quit.”

Y/N took it out of his hand and held it against her chest. She knew she had a long road ahead of her, but the love she was feeling from him made it seem like it would be less hard. She was ready to get better and come back to him and the rest of the team.

“Bucky, this is one of the nicest things anyone has ever done for me,” she leaned up and kissed his cheek, “I can’t want to come back and see you”

“I know, Y/N. I’ll be counting down the days,”

“Ms. Y/L/N? We’re ready to leave,” the driver had finished putting her bags into the car and was holding the back car door open for her.

“Goodbye for now, Buck,” she gave him one last quick hug and headed over to the car. She hesitated for a moment and got in, the door being closed after her.

Bucky watched the car drive away into the distance and let out a heavy sigh. He turned around and headed back into the tower where he found Steve waiting for him.

“She’ll be okay, Buck,” he patted his best friend on the shoulder and pulled him into a hug, “I know how much care for her. But when she’s back she’ll be better than ever.”

“I know, Steve. Now we just have to wait and focus on other things,” he agreed, thankful for the support, both spoken and unspoken, from his closest friend.

It was about halfway through her treatment when Y/N felt like she had a hit a wall. The first month and a half had been great, and she was making all the progress she needed. The angry red marks that had covered her skin were still there, but they weren’t as red and swollen and fresh anymore. They were slowly fading and new ones hadn’t been added. She had put on about ten pounds, something that took all her effort not to obsess over. She still had ways to go, but this was progress, this was a good start.

The daily therapy sessions, both with others and alone, seemed like a waste at first but she slowly grew to like them and she there benefit. At first thinking about talking to a complete stranger about all the demons in her head seemed like the opposite of what she wanted to do. But after a few sessions she started liking talking to someone who wasn’t going to judge her and just wanted to help her.

She observed all the other people that were in the program with her, young men and women of all different backgrounds, and realized that how she must have looked to other people. They had all appeared so frail and scared and helpless at first, but just like her they were all trying to get better, and that motivated her too.

One night, however, she felt a pang of regret for going to rehab. For dinner they were all in the communal hall, dining on pizza and bread sticks. As she looked down at her plate, a memory came into her mind of one of the few times she had had dinner with both of her parents, which had ended up in a huge screaming match between them. She was a young teenager at the time, but she remembered how bad and awful she felt sitting at the table, picking at her pizza, while her parents’ screaming was going on.

Y/N stared at the pizza for a moment before pushing it away and headed back to her room. She slammed the door shut behind her and huddled up on her bed, clutching her knees to her chest. She wondered why she was even there; there was no point to anything and people would never change, so why should she bother?

Y./N closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths; she knew this she couldn’t give into the demons again and she knew she was needed to do this. She remembered the letter Bucky had given her before she left, now was the first perfect time to read. It was like he must have known she would reach this point and maybe it was needed, a turning point of sorts.

She opened the envelope and read over his beautiful scrawl.

Y/N,

I can’t even imagine how hard this is for you. But I can tell you how proud I am of you for doing this. I could tell that finally coming out and asking for help but hard for you, but I am so glad you did. I know you will get better, you can do this. You’re so much stronger than you know.

I know how it feels to be the outsider and thinking you’re not good enough for others or wondering if they’d ever accept you. It’s been a process been for me to get comfortable around people again, but slowly it has gotten better. You don’t have to blend in and be on the outside, you deserve love and respect just like everyone else. We’re all here for you and will help and support you however we can.

Just know that I will be waiting for the day you come home and I can kiss you again. I’m counting down the days just like you are, undoubtedly we all are. We’re your family and your home will always be with us.

All my love,

Bucky

Y/N didn’t even stop the tears from running down her face. The words he had written resonated so much with her, and to know that there were people who loved her and cared about was more than she could have dreamed of. Bucky had known exactly what to say to make her feel better and give her a push in the right direction.

She couldn’t wait to get and see him either. It was only another 45 days to go.

The remainder of her treatment seemed incredibly long and grueling, but was rewarding as well. She had made so much more progress, but Y/N knew she had a long way to go. Outpatient therapy and work would be the hardest, but she felt ready for the challenge. She was still going to go and see a therapist once a week, but she knew being around her team, her family, would help too.

On the drive back to the Avengers Tower, she grew nervous and started fidgeting. How would the team react to seeing her? Her appearance had changed pretty drastically while she was away. She no longer felt the need to wear long sleeves all the time, but had opted for a short sleeved dress. The marks were continuing to fade and throw the help of scar gel were slowly becoming less noticeable. Her face was not has thin and sharp as it used to be. She she put on a total of twenty five pounds, still a little under her goal, but much better than she used to be. To celebrate her success had decided to get a drastic haircut; gone were her mid back length locks, replaced by a shoulder length still she couldn’t (and didn’t want to) hide behind.

The most important important of her change, though, was the fact that she wore a smile on her face, a smile that actually reached her eyes.

She wondered how it would feel to hug Bucky again, if he still smelled the same way she remembered. She smiled to herself as she pictured their reunion. She had been a little sneaky and had told the team she would be home late that night, rather than early in the afternoon she could go in and surprise them.

“We have arrived Ms. Y/L/N,” the driver pulled her out her thoughts. She looked out the window and saw the familiar entrance to her home.

“Perfect,” she smiled and opened the door. She quickly tried to get herself together and told herself not to be nervous.

“Shall I bring your bags up?”

“Oh no, please, I can get them,” she offered him smile as she opened the trunk and pulled out the two bags, “thank you though.”

“Anytime,” he gave her a small wave and headed back to the car, “give Mr. Stark my regards!”

“Will do!” She grinned at him and watched him drive away and got headed into the tower.

She headed into the elevator and pushed the button for their floor. She hoped they would all be home. She hummed to herself as she waited for the familiar ding. After what seemed like an eternity, the doors slowly opened. She stepped out and listened for a few moments, trying to see if she could hear anyone. Slowly, familiar voices reached her ears as she realized they were in the kitchen/living room. She set her bags down and quietly padded her way over to them.

When she reached them, they were all laughing about something. She walked into the living room, and behind the couch where some of them were sitting.

“What’s so funny?” Y/N asked as she leaned onto the couch. Steve and Sam jumped a little as she startled them. They turned around with big grins on their faces as they realized it was her.

“Y/N!” They both jumped up and pulled her into for a big hug. She grinned as she hugged them back, glad she was finally home.

“I thought you weren’t supposed to be back until tonight,” Nat stuck her tongue as she walked over and gave her a hug.

“Surprise!” Y/N grinned as Wanda and Vision came over and greeted her as well.

“It’s great to see you again, kid,” Tony walked into the room, as he must have heard the communication from everyone, Bruce quickly following in his footsteps.

“I’m so glad to see you guys again. I’m so ready to be home,” she was overwhelmed by all of their love.

“It’s good to have you back,” Steve agreed, “missions are hard without you.”

“Oh thanks,” she stuck her tongue out at him, “have you guys seen Bucky?”

As if one cue, Bucky walked back into the room, muttering something about being out of popcorn. He stopped in his tracks as he realized Y/N was standing in front of him. He face broke out in a huge grin and he closed the distance between them, “Y/N!”

Y/N reveled in his warm grasp as she tightened her grip around his shoulders. The rest of the team slowly and quickly exited and let them have their moment.

She pulled back and studied his face for a moment. She had missed his bright blue eyes. He hesitated for just a second before he pulled her back in and kissed her deeply. Y/N grinned into the kiss and realized just how much she had been missing him. They only pulled apart when they finally needed air.

“I’ve missed you so much,” he whispered as he his cupped her cheeks, “I’ve been looking forward to that for the last ninety days.”

“Buck, I’ve missed you too. Your letter was beautiful. It definitely helped me,” she put her hands over his hands as she leaned forward to give him another quick kiss.

“I knew you could it. You’re such a strong person,”

“I had moments of doubts, plenty of them. But I knew I had to get better, and I wanted to come back home to my family,” she concentrated her gaze on him, “and to you.”

“I’m glad you’re back. You look so well, I know it must have been hard, but I’m glad you stuck it out.”

“It took me a long time, but I realized I had people that care about and I have a purpose. It’s still going to be a long road, but I know I can do it.”

“I’ll be here for you every step of the way,” he promised her.

‘I know, Buck. I’ve got a question for you,”

“Oh?” He raised his eyebrows at her.

“Yeah, and it’s an important one,” she chuckled at the worried look that crossed his face, “will you go to dinner with me? You know, like a proper date?”

“Oh! Of course, I would be delighted,” he grinned down at her. He leaned down and kissed her again, both of them feeling the sparks rush between them.

“Get a room!” They stopped when they heard Steve yell at them. They turned around and saw the rest of the team watching them from the doorway.

They looked at each other and grinned as they walked out of the room. Bucky reached for her hand and entwined their fingers. They headed to the elevator, discussing where they should go for dinner, as the rest of the team cheered them on.

Even though it would be a long road for Y/N, she knew she had all the support she needed. And in that perfect moment, she felt like nothing was impossible.

Taglist: @superserumstark @ruinerofcheese @amieleahx @buckybear5 @ssweet-empowerment @nairobi13 @markandjackaremysuperheros @sexysamsungl

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #winter solider x reader #winter solider #sebastian stan #marvel #mcu #avengers #captain america #steve rogers #iron man #tony stark #chris evans #imagine #mine #oc #captain america x reader

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