#Wondering what the hell he was doing wrong. Crap. Is his human broken?? Shit. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sarenhale · 3 years

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Just watched the Endwalker trailer.... I am super excited but also heavily thinking about the expansion, and what it will mean for Zenos as a character.

Long ass thoughts under the cut.

He’s posed as the final boss here, the big bad guy, but it made me think a lot when the game and some characters explicitly say: “Maybe Zenos isn’t even our final obstacle, the final days will be’. Which also leads me to think that Zenos is just... well, vibing and thriving in the destruction, but that he could not be the reason the final days are happening and everything is going to shit.

He sure as hell is enabling things to happen, but I don’t know if I believe that he’s the instigator and the one behind the idea. I think he’s more of the opportunist taking advantage of chaos and delirium to act his plan of the final hunt, but I think it has been made clear enough that he doesn’t exactly care about Eorzea ending or wars happening to create an intricate plan such as the one put in motion by Fandaniel, he just wants to relive the hunt with his first friend and enemy once again. (Which don’t get me started, it’s so fucking sad man, don’t make me think about it or I’ll tear up...)

This led me to think ... where will this character go? What will happen? I am VERY torn about this, mostly because SE has done an incredible job at keeping everyone guessing and surprising people everytime with the story.

Could Zenos end up being an ally? Could he be spared? Can he come to reason? I see people even mentioning that he could be a Scion... I honestly really don’t see that happening, the man is batshit insane and as much as I love him, he doesn’t give a shit about Eorzea or helping the world, and I’m sure 99% of the Scions despise him or just want to see him dead. He won’t be a Scion, that would be really out of character for everyone. (For him to be one, for everyone to accept him as such)

But I do wonder if he will end up being spared, or changing his mind. Maybe being a ‘neutral’ force? Maybe even temporarily allying with the WoL (and only with the Wol, he doesn’t care about the others) to prevent him from dying, because he doesn’t actually want his rival and friend to die. A ‘villain turned ally out of necessity’ situation with him would be cool, and would make sense if he wanted to protect the Wol temporarily from another foe, even for just ‘being the one that has to kill / defeat them’. He’s very possessive over the Wol, I feel like.

I just hope we won’t have to kill him... he’s one of my favourite characters now, so I would honestly be DEVASTATED to see him go, even if I perfectly know he would deserve it and everyone would probably be happy if he did. But I just can’t help thinking about how much I love this character, his story, what he implies, what he represents, all the things he carries with him... I feel like Endwalker will surely give us a lot of content for him, which I am excited and happy about, but I just wish we could not kill him so we get to see more.

This is where I get conflicted because my realist side tells me we already got a fake death, even if we DID kill him, and fight him with the intent to kill. He managed to escape death though, and came back. I just think it would be a bit unrealistic to have him escape death once again, and even more unrealistic having him being an ally. One could argue we already have examples of Garlean villains turned allies, with Nero, Cid and Gaius, but like... they weren’t like this.

What I love about Zenos is also what makes him unreedemable.

Zenos is mad. Zenos doesn’t give a shit about anyone, about life, death, people, slaughtering innocents, about Eorzea, hell, he doesn’t even give a crap about the world ENDING if it means he can have a final dance with his beast. And I LOVE all these unique parts about him, but I also realize those parts are what make imagining him surviving so hard, considering the circumstances.

Cid, Nero and Gaius weren’t mad with power. Sure, they all did bad things, but you don’t see them talking about how they just wanted to fight one person to feel an emotion and destroyed countries and people for that reason. The others had reasons behind their actions (as bad as those reasons could be, their actions were still guided by logic), Zenos doesn’t. Zenos is a feral animal and follows his istincts, that’s why I find it so hard to imagine him as someone who is not a villain. I would LOVE for him to be saved, to have someone give him a chance, my humane (and emphatic ass) wants someone to take a chance on him also because I feel so close to his struggle, but my realistic side says ‘Yeah, it’s not gonna happen’.

As much as I love this character and would like him not to die, I also realize he did horrible things and slaughtered innocents without even thinking about it. I went back to check on dialogues of people talking about facing him in the war, and man it’s bad. People basically describe how he wouldn’t even find enjoyement in killing people or winning wars, but how we was just ‘looking for a feeling’ even on the battlefield, while destroying people’s hopes and dreams in Doma and all Yangxia. It’s bad. It’s REAL bad. Sometimes I forget how... bad this character is.

“...I do not think there was any joy in it. Nor justice, nor morality, nor meaning. To him, the weight of one life is no different from that of a thousand. A challenge had been issued and was accepted. But on finding us no challenge at all, his objective changed. There were tales of imperial soldiers being flayed for slaughtering families. For breaking brave men’s spirits. Only later did I come to understand why. He did not desire obedience. He desired hate… and men consumed by it. A new battle. A new enemy. A new challenge. The hunt, I am told he called it. A hunt without end. And when all our best lay dead and broken, he left. He left, muttering that we had “bored” him. But our weapons, at least, held his interest. For he took a fallen samurai’s sword, having grown… fond of it. Since that day, he has ever wielded Far Eastern blades. He is said to be fascinated by ones with storied histories, and so soldiers who seek to to curry his favor often present those of defeated enemies as gifts.

Lyse: It’s like all a game to him. People are suffering -- dying -- and he’s collecting swords? “

But man. I don’t know what Endwalker has in store for me, for Zenos, but I sure hope maybe something can happen where he doesn’t die. I don’t know how the fuck that would happen, maybe we would need to see more of him and understand his story/his side better, and see if he actually does want to work with the WoL side by side instead of just fighting him. Maybe that can happen, he does care about the WoL after all, and he knows enjoyement and thrill will come out of being with them. I just don’t know how that could realistically *WORK*... But I sure does hope there’s some kind of compromise, where he maybe just can reflect on his actions and do something about them.

This is my stupid ‘I see too much of myself in Zenos to talk rationally’ self talking, but I am so sad at seeing a character that has struggles and grew up feeling nothing but apathy, being loved by no one, end up like a villain again. Having to just be put down like a feral animal. Again.

I guess my stupid ass would just like him to be happy, found peace maybe, HELL, I don’t know if he deserves it, but some parts of me tells me he does. I just get so sad when I am reminded at how much his father, family, nation, no one gave a shit about him. That’s too much human and close to home for me to disregard everything entirely and just call him a villain.

I also am conflicted because I wonder if what I want for him isn’t also out of character, and something that would ruin his character and story. I love Zenos because he’s unapologetically himself, does what he wants, and obeys no one’s agenda, but his wants and instincts. I don’t want his personality and story arc to be ruined by salvation or him randomly becoming an ally and everyone pretending he didn’t do anything wrong, that would make me hate him and SE so much. I would much prefer him dead than him ruined as a character. I do wonder if me wanting him to be spared death and him being unapologetically himself are two things that can’t co-exist- it FEELS like that, honestly. I have faith in SE that they will write him and the story well, and make me enjoy what happens, so at the moment I’m not particularly worried about him being ruined as a character. But I just got to the point where I am so attached that I am of course scared of losing my favourite character. I guess we will have to see, honestly only the game and what will happen in the story can tell me if I am right in having hope for him or if I am not. There’s a lot of possibility in the story, a lot of surprises in SE’s writing everything everytime, and i how they make things WORK, so there’s hope in THAT.

And maybe I want to see a different solution for him that isn’t death. Call it retribution, maybe I am projecting TOO MUCH in this character, but yeah, just being honest and baring my emotions to the world here. I guess we will have to see what happens.

#long ass ramble!!!!#ffxiv #zenos #zenos yae galvus

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skylarmoon71 · 3 years

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Raphael x Parker Reader- Chapter 2 -(TMNT 2014/2016)

"Oww."

You rubbed your head, squinting as you looked over at the clock. You barely remembered falling asleep, much less on the ground. At least you'd woken up in time for your night job. Grabbing your glasses, you rolled your shoulders getting up. Picking up your phone you shoved it into your pocket, hoisting your bag up as you headed downstairs. May was sitting reading the newspaper on the couch. You took an apple from the counter, tucking it into the backpack.

"Honey, I don't like you working these night shifts, they're dangerous." you shrugged off the comment. "I'll be fine Aunt May, besides I'll be graduating in a few years. All of this is going towards my college fund. "

"That doesn't mean you should kill yourself working, what about your GPA."

"My GPA is fine. I'll have to get used to it when I go away. So I'm preparing for it now. " pulling the bag unto your shoulder, you took off your glasses, wiping it slightly before placing it back on your face.

"I don't think Ben would have liked the way you're overworking yourself." That statement made your body stiff.

"He's not here." you replied coldly. Gripping the strap on your bad tighter, you turned, heading for the door.

"Don't wait up." You were out the door before anymore words could be exchanged. Why did she have to bring up his name?

Agitated, and a bit frustrated, you just head for the night job. Most people hated janitorial jobs, but the one you snagged paid pretty well. You guessed it was because of the hours. Night shifts were the worst, but it was the best distraction from all your problems. You needed to say active. Continuously occupied not just at school, but work too, it probably wasn't the healthiest thing, especially since you'd passed out after your school trip at that genetics lab a few weeks ago. Since then you'd been feeling like crap.

You scratched the red bug bite on your hand absentmindedly. You should have gotten it checked out, between the headaches and chills, you just crossed it off as a bug or infection. You really thought it would have passed by now. Constantly working your body maybe wasn't helping either.

"You deserve this, it's your fault."

You grimace, trying to rid your mind of that inner voice.

"Get to work." As soon as you got there, everything would be better.

~~~~~

You clocked in with the security guard, waving at the man as you pushed the bucket.

"It's Friday night, what are you doing, go and do teenage stuff kid." you shook your head.

"No can do Mr. Reese, gotta put the hours in." He shook his head with a smile. "Enjoy life now, trust me. There's nothing wrong with being driven, just don't let it be all that you're about. You feel me?"

"I hear you!!" clicking the elevator, you entered pressing the button for the top floor.

Two hours into your cleaning, and you were actually starting to feel a tinge bit better. You scrubbed and wiped every surface. At one point you'd stopped to watch the view. This particular building was one of those publishing departments. Scandalous articles were usually thought up and printed in this room. You gazed over at the desk.

Journalism was somewhat intriguing to you. But science would forever be your first love.

The clicking of a lock behind your back made you flinch. You spun around.

"J-John?"

Not a sound.

You squinted, eyes zeroing on the door. You were pretty sure no one else but you were scheduled to work on this floor, and John checked the halls every thirty minutes, he'd buzz by not too long ago, so it couldn't have been him. Your brows furrowed when you heard another unfamiliar sound from ahead.

You approached cautiously, looking around the room. There was nothing but computers and monitors in here. The flickering of the lights ahead didn't do much to calm your nerves. As you rounded the corner, your stomach dropped at the sight of John ducked taped and lying on the floor, blood running from his forehead. His eyes caught you, orbs widening as he tried to move upright. He thrashed about, groaning and trying his best to scream over the tape on his lips. The clicking of a gun behind stopped you in your tracks.

"What do we have here, so the old man was lying, I knew there was someone else here." your heart was racing. "Turn around slowly, try anything and I'll blow your head off. " you swallowed, raising your hands slowly as you turned. Now facing the man you could make out his features. Early thirties, dirty blond hair, dark eyes and a malicious smile on his lips.

"L-Listen h-he's got kids, please. Whatever you need I can get it for you, just leave him alone. "

The smile on his face got wider. "I'm impressed, I thought for sure you would beg for your life. You got guts, I'll give you that. " he pointed the gun at John, and you panicked, stepping in front of it. John couldn't do much but watch helplessly. You could hear him sobbing in the background as you blocked his way.

"P-Please."

"Sorry kid, nothing personal. I already got what I came for." He flashed the flash drive in front of your face, tucking it into his pocket.

"Unfortunate for you, I can't have any witnesses. Went through hell to disable all the camera's on the floor. Can't have you both snitching on me." He fires a shot, and you jumped as it broke the glass behind you. You could hear it shattering in the background, and he let out another laugh.

"Bad shot, sorry. Don't worry, I'll make it quick." your eyes hardened. He was enjoying this. He took a step forward, placing it right over your heart, and John closed his eyes, resting his head on the floor in defeat. You however weren't planning to give up that easily. You screamed unexpectedly, throwing him off slightly. The action gives you about a millisecond to direct the gun away from your heart. You slapped his hand sharply, and he gritted his teeth, firing. The bullet went off ahead, and the gun flew out his hands a good distance away, and you shoved him, rushing to grab it before he could get a hold of it.

"BITCH!!"

He sprinted after you, and right as you dove to get the gun, his body collided with yours. The scream that releases from you this time is very real, because of your close proximity to the glass windows, your back hits the flat surface.

The cracking echoes in your ears, and before you know it your free falling, so is your assailant. In your haste to grab something solid, you end up pulling him. Both of you are free falling. Tears build up behind your eyes, and one last attempt to grip something, your hands skid on the edge of the building, except now, you're no longer moving, or falling for that matter. Your eyes are still tightly shut, and you're wondering if maybe you're already dead. If so, that was fairly quick, painless. But that isn't the case. You can still feel the wind.

"Wind?"

You crack an eye open. They both spring open when you look down.

"SHIT!!" your locked unto the side of the building still, how? You have absolutely no idea. Your head turns, and your fingers are stuck to the glass like a suction. You blink a few times, heart still hammering. The vicious male who attacked you is also alive, but he's in a very different situation. Unconscious too from what you can tell.

There's a long metal chain hanging from the top of the building, wrapped around his ankle. You track it to the top, and your eyes meet with a pair of emerald ones. The figure there makes you question a lot of things, and he's staring at you with the same level of shock. Possibly because you're stuck to the side of a twenty story building like it's nothing. He's not human, not even close, but you're starting to wonder if that's maybe your brain trying to make sense of all that's going on.

"Raph!"

The scream catches his attention and he yanks the chain roughly, hoisting the male into the air like he weighs nothing.

You're still partially paralyzed, and it dawns on you that whatever is going on, you should get a move on before the effects wear off and you fall to your death. So very cautiously, you inch up the building. You're moving slowly, calculated.

Making out the broken opening your bodies made, you hoist yourself into it, dropping down back first on the ground with a sigh of relief. You don't even pay mind to the clear cuts on your palms from the glass. Must be the adrenaline.

All you know is, something has definitely changed.

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jaskiersvalley · 4 years

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I ABSOLUTELY ADORED your pieces of Geralt whump! They were so well written and oh so wonderful! I hope you do more in the future(no pressure tho lol I like all your other world as well) anyways 10000/10

There is something deeply satisfying about Geralt whump, isn’t there? I am so glad you’re on the hurt Geralt train with me. And let’s face it, there’s always room for more Geralt whump, isn’t there? I for one certainly hope so because here’s some more :D

The words “that’s not fair” and “I’ll see you around” echoed in Jaskier’s head. He’d said those to Geralt and walked away like some beaten dog slinking away. Which irked him to no end, never before had he just rolled over and taken a beating like that. It took him three steps away from Geralt before ire caught up with him, nostrils flaring, he spun on his heels in time to hear the creak of armour that always came with the action of Geralt sitting down.

A lot of Jaskier’s anger evaporated when he saw Geralt, sitting down on the bare rock. His shoulders were slumped and suddenly, Jaskier didn’t see a stoic witcher who was impervious to all emotions. Instead, there was a broken man, alone and hurting. Because of the way Geralt was rubbing at his cheeks there was no denying that even if he wasn’t outright crying, he was miserable.

Now Jaskier was many things but he wasn’t so cruel as to kick someone when they were already down. He didn’t move closer, not just yet, but he watched Geralt. The way he favoured his left arm for furiously wiping at his face, his whole posture was skewed, holding his right tighter, protecting it. Maybe he had taken more of a beating in the fight than he had been willing to let on.

Sighing, Jaskier walked closer and watched as Geralt tried to fiercely pull himself together and stand up to face him down again. But their years together hadn’t meant nothing, Jaskier could see through the charade he was rapidly trying to cobble together.

“Sit your silly arse down,” he grumbled, a hand already reaching to guide Geralt down. “You’ll fall off the mountain at this rate.”

There was only mild resistance before Geralt was sinking, all fight gone from him. He sat in silence, watching Jaskier from behind his hair, obviously not quite understanding what was going on. For his part, Jaskier stayed just as quiet as he began to work on unbuckling Geralt’s armour. There were definitely new scuffs on it. It was rare for such silence to engulf them, usually Jaskier prattled on or chastised Geralt but this time he wasn’t in the mood. His own emotions were still in turmoil, anger and disappointment thick in his throat and barely holding back cutting words. They could wait though. Especially when he looked up and saw watery eyes staring back at him. Witchers didn’t have emotions his arse. They just bottled them until they exploded at the wrong moment and over the wrong person.

“Lift,” he patted Geralt’s right arm and watched as his order was obeyed through gritted teeth. Definitely injured then. Idiot. Sure enough, as armour came off and clothing was peeled back, there was a livid bruise already black and purple, swollen and hot to the touch, spread all down Geralt’s shoulder arm. He must have taken one hell of a knock. Given their limited supplies, there wasn’t much Jaskier could do for it other than gently press rage cooled hands against it, hoping it would provide a small amount of relief.

There were unsaid questions between them and Jaskier realised he would have to break the silence first because Geralt probably had no idea how to do it.

“Did taking your anger out on me make you feel any better?”

Eyes were shamefully torn from him, gaze fixed by their feet. Almost imperceptibly, Geralt shook his head. At least he was responsive to some degree, it was better than nothing and gave Jaskier something to work with.

“Do you regret it?”

The nod was a little more firm even if it took longer to come. It was okay, Jaskier was a patient man, had to be, to travel with Geralt for so long.

“Me too,” he admitted softly and he saw as well as felt a shiver pass through Geralt. “You hurt me. Because you’re hurting. But it didn’t pass the hurt on, you just managed to spread your misery, didn’t you?”

Another nod and there was a small wobble of lips before Geralt pressed them into a thin, stubborn line. Sometimes Jaskier wondered which of them was more stubborn. He didn’t want to prompt Geralt into everything but an apology would go a long way in the interest of their friendship.

“I’m sorry.” The words were soft and unexpected, making Jaskier whip his head up to look at Geralt whose face was pulled into a deep frown. It did nothing to mask the tears that were threatening to fall. “It hurt so much.”

Not an excuse but Jaskier could address that later, for now the fact that Geralt was making an effort would have to be enough. He could well imagine it too, Geralt’s anguish about the dragon, Yennefer’s rejection, the aches and pains of the fight, the sorrow of having killed humans probably didn’t help either.

“Yeah, it did,” he agreed.

That was breaking point it seemed. As much as witchers didn’t have emotions, didn’t have tears to shed for anyone or anything, Geralt was very much human rather than witcher in that moment as big, fat drops trickled down his cheeks. Pity coursed through Jaskier as he let Geralt’s bruised arm go and reached for him properly. It was amazing how easily he could tug Geralt against his chest and hold him while he shook in misery.

Not once did Jaskier try to snap at him to stop or pull himself together which only made things worse for Geralt. He didn’t deserve the solace and kindness, not after how much he’d hurt Jaskier.

“It hurts,” he repeated, almost whining and Jaskier held him tighter until Geralt pushed away, hands insisted. Breaths were coming short and suddenly Jaskier wasn’t so sure he knew what was hurting. At least, not until Geralt was leaning away from him and retching, red tinged bile coming up.

It prompted Jaskier into a moment of “oh shit”, realising that the bruise to the arm wasn’t all of Geralt’s injuries. He was reaching for his witcher, pushing up his shirt to show livid bruising all across his chest and abdomen. While the armour had taken the literal edge of the blow, it hadn’t done much to lessen the bone crushing power behind it.

“Fuck.” Jaskier was easing Geralt onto his back, hands fluttering helplessly as he watched the way Geralt twisted onto his side, curling around the pain. Never before had Jaskier felt so hopelessly helpless than there, on the barren mountainside with nothing but his lute and bare essentials in his pack. He spied Geralt’s pack and hoped that there might be some potions in there to help. The ordered pack was strew into a messy pile as Jaskier searched, all while his ear was attuned to the harsh breaths Geralt was taking as he tried to push through the pain as silently as possible.

There were two potions in the bottom of the bag, carefully wrapped up and Jaskier took them back to Geralt. Holding them up, he didn’t even have to ask before a hand was reaching for one of the bottles. Jaskier didn’t comment on how Geralt’s fingers trembled as they tried to open the bottle. As gently as he could, Jaskier took it, popped it open and helped Geralt sit up to take the potion.

That done, there wasn’t much else to do. Not while Geralt squirmed as the potion burned through him, giving him a fighting chance to heal from whatever internal damage he had sustained.

“Jask?” he called weakly. “Please don’t leave me.”

Really, Jaskier wasn’t planning on it but seeing Geralt’s tear streaked face he did more than just sit with him. Carefully, he wrapped himself around Geralt, pulled him against his chest.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promised. All he could think of was how much pain Geralt must have been in when he’d yelled at Jaskier and all of the crap before it too. Like an animal in pain, he’d lashed out, tried to seem invincible just so he wasn’t seen as vulnerable. Agony had probably twisted his perception, made the anguish of rejection even worse.

Humming softly, Jaskier held Geralt close. “I’ve got you. You just rest.”

That was how they spent a night on the mountainside, Jaskier holding Geralt, pulling a throw over them as night set. In the morning, they sat side by side, watching the sun rise over the horizon. Jaskier’s hand resting between them until Geralt laced their fingers together and moved their hands to his lap.

“Thank you.” His voice was a soft grumble. “For everything.”

And finally Jaskier’s heart was healed, knowing he had made the right decision.

#geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #the witcher #geralt whump #tldr: geralt is hurting physically and emotionally #cw: vomit

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unmaskedagain · 4 years

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Marinette: A legacy

I really tried to make this angst but the story had a mind of it’s own by the end. It’s about 6,000 words so... Buckle in.

Broken; that was what Marinette was. Broken was what the gods had deemed her. She was born wrong. She shouldn’t exist. She shouldn’t be alive. She shouldn’t be anything. But she did exist and she was very much alive… technically.

How much could anyone like her ever really be considered alive? She had been born to death. Somehow death had created a life.

It had done it once before with another girl; but that girl had been born right. From the moment she had come crying into the world, it was clear the girl had favored her grandmother’s heritage, and, in time, her mother’s as well. The girl was named Hope.

Marinette favored her father’s; skin a little too pale, heart beat a little too slow, beauty a little too otherworldly. However, when it was clear that her small body craved blood to survive, only then did they fear the worst.

By they, she meant her birthmother. A werewolf who had want power and powerful bloodline; a Hope of her own. Suffice to say, she didn’t get what she wanted. Instead of Mother Nature and moon in one being; they got blood and darkness, the moon would come later.

They feared she’d become her father. A monster in human flesh. A boogieman that all other boogiemen feared. They couldn’t let that happen. They refused to let that happen. So they sent Marinette away. Sent her away before her father could find out; before his family could find out. She was given to a couple with magical knowledge; a man with a wolf’s heritage and a woman who had grown up with vampires; Tom and Sabine.

Her birthmother died not long after.

Marinette’s father had been locked away at the time of her birth. She never met him. Most days, she just wondered if he knew she existed. Last she heard him and his brother Elijah had nearly died defeating some great evil. They were alive and well, still ruling New Orleans. Only reason she knew about him was that she had saved a witch’s life, and in return, and a bit of blood, Marinette knew who her birth parents were; the lines she came from. The sister she had.

Unfortunately the price was stiff. Marinette ten at the time when she came across a vicious looking man attacking a seemingly helpless woman. The man had been a werewolf. To save a life, Marinette accidently ended his in the process; awakening the curse of her mother’s bloodline.

No longer just a child of death and blood but now of the moon as well.

For a long time, Marinette had done everything she could to be normal despite her adopted parents assuring her that Normal was overrated. Never seeking out her own kind(s) out of fear. Fear of rejection as she was neither and yet both; alive and dead; werewolf and vampire. Fear that her father’s countless enemies would find her.

But while she could walk in the sunlight, she could also kill a man in the blink of an eye. While she did her absolute best not to hurt anyone, animals still avoided her. They sensed the predator inside her, lurking just beneath the surface. While Marinette loved designing and all things fashion and normal teen girl things, she still drank blood, howled at the moon, and had murdered someone.

Meeting Tikki when she was twelve had been a blessing and a curse. Tikki help Marinette realize that she could be something; that she didn’t have to be a force of destruction, that she could create, protect. The curse; Tikki told her that her she’d stop aging soon; death would take hold of her. She gave Marinette a four or five year timeframe. At max five years before her ability age would slow decreasing until it stopped altogether. And who knows when exactly that would be.

Maybe feared that she’d wake up at 30 and realized she still looked like nineteen-year-old.

And what would that mean for her biologically? Could she still have kids? A life? Would she have to spend the rest of eternity alone?

Now almost fourteen Marinette, outcasted by her friends over a liar, made guardian now that Fu had sadly passed away, she spent most of her nights with the Kwami. She had just been about to put the box away when… it happened.

Suddenly, wind started to swirl around her room. She felt a slight tugging at her arms; then it was like her entire body was being sucked throw a tube. Finally a tornado like cloud appeared on ceiling and the next thing Marinette knew was she was being pulled into it.

Marinette screamed and clutched the kwami box tightly to her chest. Wind and lightning swirled around her. She closed her eyes, and wondered just what type of kwami Hawkmoth had unleased on Paris now.

Then with a hard thud, she landed on a hard surface. She peaked and saw sunlight peeking through a window; and a forest of trees behind it.

Well, she thought, this is definitely not my room.

“Are you alright?”

Marinette looked up and saw a group of people; mostly teenagers and one adult looking down at her. The girl who had spoken had big brown eyes and dark, almost black, hair.

“I’m fine,” Marinette said hesitantly. “What’s going on? I was just in my room and now I’m here.”

“Great!” A blond girl snapped. “The ritual was supposed to summon one of your psycho family members. How’d you manage to blow that, Hope?”

“I didn’t!” A girl with long Auburn hair and light blue eyes. “I can’t have. It’s a simple ritual. It was supposed to summon my closest relative.”

Marinette blinked. Because Crap. “Did you say Hope?” She asked. “As in Hope Mikaelson?” Her sister. Her actual sister. She had always wanted to meet her.

“My name is Alaric,” The adult, a man, said as he stepped forward a curious look on his face. “How do you know Hope?”

Marinette decided to give them man her best scary vampire face, “I don’t. Not really,” She hissed, fangs bared. The she went wolf mode; not a full transformation. Her clothes ripped a little though. “I was born a vampire.” She answered. “And went werewolf later.”

“You’re hybrid,” Hope gasped. “A natural hybrid.”

“Yes,” Marinette nodded. “Now by closest relative; she did you mean proximity or by blood. Because…” She looked around. “Seeing as I am no longer in Paris. I’m guessing by blood.”

There was stunned faces as understanding slowly crept in.

“The ritual worked,” The brunette who spoke first said. “Surprisingly well.”

Marinette smiled, “I’m Marinette,” She introduced herself. “Your sister.”

“Another one!” The blond yelled. She tossed her hands up in the air. “Great. Just great!” And with that she stomped off.

Alaric pinched his nose, “Klaus is not going to be happy about this.”

“Oh he’s gonna lose his shit,” Said Kaleb; he’d met the original once and decided that was enough.

“No one is going to happy about this,” Hope yelled. She knew that none of her family knew about Marinette. They couldn’t have. Her father barely let her come to school. He wouldn’t have let her live in another freaking country. “How? Just how?”

Marinette took a quick step back; a dismayed feeling overtook her.

“Hey,” The brunette said softly, giving the younger girl a kind smile, “That’s not what they mean. They’re just a little shocked right now. I’m Josie; a witch. How about I show you around campus while everyone calms down a bit.” She held out her hand to Marinette.

Marinette clutched the kwami box but nodded and let Josie lead her out of the room.

“We need a plan,” Mg suggested.

“Plan?” Kaleb scoffed. “Bro, we need the Avengers. And Batman. Hell the U.S army and the xmen too. Klaus is going to tear this bitch apart.”

Alaric took a deep breath, “No, he won’t.” He looked to Hope. “Call Rebecca, Freyja, here. Don’t tell them why. They’re the sane ones. They won’t overreact. Then we deal with Elijah, once he’s handled. We go for the big fish.”

“Shark,” Kaleb corrected. “Great white sharks! Except more bloodthirsty.”

Hope nodded, “I’ll call them now, and then,” She winced. “Talk to my sister. Kidnapping and freaking out on her probably wasn’t the best first impression.”

“Nah,” Mj shook his head. “You tanked that.”

Convincing her aunts to visit her, under the guise of girl talk and girls day was easier than she expected. Talking to her little sister, while not harder, was considerably more awkward. She found the girl drinking a smoothie with Josie, giggling about something.

“Hey,” Hope smiled. “Found you!”

“Kidnapped me!” Marinette corrected.

Hope winced, “Yeah. I should apologize, right?” Marinette gave her a look. “I’m really sorry. But hey, I got to find out I have a little sister. That’s awesome.”

“I’m going to leave you two alone,” Jose said and gave them a thumbs up.

After that Hope and Marinette told each other about their lives. Marinette lived in Paris all her life and loved fashion; about the bakery and her parents. She didn’t find out about her birth family until she was ten. Hope told her what their family was like and what it been like growing up in New Orleans; and the best Beignets in the world.

“You’ll dad,” Hope grinned. “He’s artists like you, like me. Uncle Kol’s a bit wild. Uncle Elijah a bit too gentlemanly. Aunt Rebecca and Aunt Freyja are amazing. They’ll be here tomorrow. They will love you. They all will,” she assured.

Marinette called her parents not long after and assured them she was fine. It was a little magical accident. She was with her sister. And asked if she could please, please stay for a bit of the summer break. Reluctantly, after a long conversation with Headmaster Alaric, they agreed, on the condition that Marinette calls them once a day. They send her stuff as soon as they could.

The next morning, Hope greeted her Aunts with the biggest, most charming smile that she could. The each pulled her into a hug.

When Rebecca pulled away, she smirked. “Now what did you do?” Before Hope could protest, her aunt added, “That’s the smile Klaus’ uses whenever he did something wrong.”

“Me?” Hope denied. “No, I didn’t do anything. I merely found out something. Something I should be rewarded for; I should get a raise in my allowance.”

Freyja crossed her arms, “uh huh, so it’s something good?”

“It’s great,” Hope smiled. “But I’m going to need you to stop Dad from murdering everyone here and… in Paris.”

“Paris?” The blonds chimed together.

“Paris.”

Explaining that she accidently summoned her sister, a child no one ever knew about, had been complicated. Rebecca didn’t believe it at first. Neither did Freyja Until Freyja had Hope repeat the ritual and a little darkhaired girl fell from the ceiling.

“Hope, we talked about this,” Marinette complained. She wore some borrowed clothes; a red top and light blue skinny jeans. “You just can’t summon people. I could’ve been in the shower.”

“Sorry,” Hope quickly helped her sister up. “Aunt Freyja made me.”

“Wow,” Said blond tutted. “Sold me out pretty quick there, kiddo.”

Marinette eyed the two beautiful blond women. Her aunts. “Hi,” She squeaked, her face red, and leaned closer to Hope.

“You’re adorable!” Rebecca squealed. Then she turned to Freyja, “Klaus is going to lose it.”

After some insight into Marinette’s life, a shopping trip, some fro-yo, Rebecca sighed when they returned back to the school. “We have to call Elijah.”

Elijah had been curious about why his sisters summoned him to Hope’s school with the clear request of: Do not tell Klaus. He knew it must be serious, and something Klaus would not like.

His sisters and niece greeted him in entry way of the school, and promptly led him back outside to the courtyard.

“What is the meaning of this,” He asked. “What purpose did I need to rush here a moment’s notice?”

His sisters looked at Hope who glared back. It was Freyja who broke first, “Klaus has another child; a girl. Her name’s Marinette, and she’s thirteen-years-old. And before you say; she is most definitely Klaus’ daughter. We checked. Six times. Two times a blood inheritance spell.”

“Yeah,” Hope drawled. “We have got to stop randomly summoning Marinette. She’s getting testy.”

He looked at the three women. Rage soared through him. “Excuse me,” Elijah said before promptly walking into the forest and ripping apart a tree. Multiple trees, in fact. When he returned, he straighten out his tie, and gave them a nod, “Where is she? Where’s Marinette? And while we locate her, you will explain to me how this occurred.”

They found Marinette, sitting on a window seal, sketching; lost in her newest design, as a means to stop her worrying.

“She’s look like him,” Elijah murmured. “The eyes, the nose, the concentration when creating new artwork.” This was his brother’s daughter, of that there was no doubt.

Marinette suddenly looked up at them, her blues eyes examining her newfound family. She chuckled, “At least you didn’t summon me this time.”

“I am your Uncle Elijah,” He prompted introduced himself with a small bow.

Marinette stood up and gave a small curtesy, “Marinette.” She said quietly. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Elijah fought urge to coo. His sisters did not. Hope laughed, went to Marinette, and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and pulled her into a hug causing Mariette to laugh as well.

The resemblance was there for all to see. The blue eyes, the devilish smiles, the same noses, cheekbones; clearly sisters. Clearly Klaus’ daughters; his little girls.

Marinette turned out to be wonderful; a shy thing with impeccable manners and a softness to her that no one else in the family had.

“I can prevent half from being killed,” Elijah told his sisters when they brought up Klaus. “But this place will still be a blood bath.”

Marinette looked confused, “But why. I just got here. Harming anyone wouldn’t be rational.”

“Rational,” Rebecca laughed. “Yes because that’s the first thing that comes to mind when people talk about Niklaus; that he’s rational.”

“Rebecca!” Elijah hissed. He shook his head, “We need Kol.”

“Oh fuck no!” Kol yelled upon meeting Marinette, thus confirming his siblings were pulling some sort of prank. “I shouldn’t be here. I don’t want to be. You shouldn’t be here!” He yelled at his older siblings. “Klaus should’ve been the first one told.” He looked at Marinette. “I’m sure your great, love. I’ll love you in no time. However, right we have to prevent Klaus from committing mass murder… again.”

The plan was supposed to be really simple. They’d all go to New Orleans, where less of Alaric’s students could be harmed. Davina and Marcellus would distract Klaus long enough to lead him into a trap; a room where chains would wrap around the hybrid’s arms securing in place; only then would they tell him the truth.

When the Originals, Hope and Marinette arrived to the house they found Marcellus and Davina waiting.

“What the hell is about,” Marcellus asked. “Klaus is going to rip my head off, you know that right.”

“This had better be good,” Davina nodded. “He’s already threatening to wipe out my entire blood line.”

“Trying to prevent the massacre of Paris,” Freyja nodded, “You two girls,” She looked at her nieces. “Stay here. Davina wait with them please.” She looked at the vampires. “Elijah take lead. Let’s do this.”

Marinette watched in wonder as her aunts and uncles went inside. They didn’t smell afraid. They smelled concerned; like her mom did when she thought she left the iron on when she left the house.

Davina asked the smaller girl with Hope. “Can I ask…?”

Hope quickly shook her head. ‘Not now’, she mouthed and pointed inside.

Davina nodded.

Elijah kept his calm façade as he approached his furious brother.

“Brothers; sisters, my family,” Klaus drawled, fury in his eyes. “I thought we’ve grown past this. May I ask what I could’ve possible done to deserve? And what Paris have to do with anything?”

“You’ve done nothing,” Elijah assured.

“I wouldn’t say nothing,” Kol smirked. “It took two to tangle after all.”

“Release me!” Klaus demanded. “Now!”

Rebecca took a breath, “You need to calm. We have to tell you something; something important. And we need you to listen because we are telling you truth.”

“I’m in chains!” Klaus growled. “And you expect me to listen to you?”

“It is a precaution should you overreact,” Elijah stated. “We are your family. We need you to trust us.”

“Honestly, just don’t go batshit crazy,” Kol shrugged. “And kill half of New Orleans.”

Klaus bared his teeth, “I’ve changed. I’ve grown. I will not go back to that.”

Freyja steeled herself, “It’s about your daughter.”

Klaus’ entire body stiffened, “What?” Fear and anger coursed through him. Was Hope alright? Did someone harm her? Where was she?

“Klaus, you have another child,” Elijah said bluntly. “A girl named Marinette. She’s thirteen and a born vampire; a hybrid since the age of ten. She is yours.”

Klaus froze in shook. His mind processing his brother’s words. He had another child; another daughter.

“Hope called us,” Rebecca said. “All of us to her school. She informed us of Marinette then, brother. And we needed to secure you because we were worried about your reaction when you found out.” Marcellus scoffed. She turned to look at him, “Did we do the right thing?”

The black man shook his head, “No.”

“What did we do wrong?” Rebecca glanced at him and then back at Klaus.

“Well, you used chains,” Marcellus explained.

“What should we have used?”

Marcellus crossed his arms, “Ahh, it wouldn’t matter.”

Klaus roared and with all his strength he ripped the chains from the ground, destroying the hardwood in the process. He calmly removed them from his wrists and walked past his siblings. He could hear Hope’s heartbeat, and Davina’s as well. But there was another with them.

The siblings followed after.

Once Klaus was outside, his eyes went automatically to his beloved Daughter, “Hope,” He greeted slowly. Hope gave him a weary smile. Then to Davina. And then finally to a girl younger than Hope but had the same blue eyes, nose, and cheek bones. All which both girls got from him.

“Marinette,” Klaus whispered.

The girl gave him a shy smile.

Marinette couldn’t believe she was finally meeting her birthfather. It would definitely.

The girl, his daughter, was smaller than he expected; smaller than Hope had been at that age. Her presence wasn’t as confident either. There was a look in her eyes that she tried to hide but he knew well; fear. She didn’t smell afraid, just worried and a little sad. She was afraid of rejection.

“I have been blessed with two beautiful daughters,” Klaus said soothingly. “You live in France, yes. I will started my revenge there.” And there went the good mood.

Everything was chaos after that.

Klaus insisted that his daughter was stolen. Marinette insisted she had been adopted. Her mother had given her up.

“And the father has no rights?” Klaus asked. He tried his best to remain maintain his false calmness. He never liked to get angry in front of his children.

“Well, in her defense, technically you are dead, brother,” Kol smirked when Klaus hissed at him. “It would be rather complicated to prove otherwise.”

“My parents,” Marinette said. Klaus growled. She continued on. “My parents are wonderful. They’re bakers with a successful shop. They love me very much.”

“Bakers!” Klaus grumbled. “My daughter was raised by bakers!”

Marinette was rather surprised just how long it took to convince her father that mass murder wasn’t a suitable response for missing out on his daughter’s formative years. Then again, he was Klaus Mikaelson.

�� After her father did calm down, it was pleasant. She was formally introduced to Marcellus, Rebecca’s husband, and Davina, Kol’s wife. She learned more about her family’s story and became content. Marinette was given a room next to Hope, and they laughed as they immediately left to decorate; chaperoned by Klaus, who was more than happy to pay for his girls’ shopping spree.

Marinette was able to get paints for her new room, different cloths for makings clothes, more sketchbooks, paintings, and posters. Klaus bought her whatever she wanted, it was a wonder Hope wasn’t spoiled.

First week living with her family she cooked with Freyja, played Poker with Kol, painted with her father (which led to a paint war where Hope and Marinette ganged up on him). Elijah taught her to waltz and told her all the things history forgot. She designed dressed for Rebecca, and tended to follow her free spirited Aunt around whenever she could. The only difficult part was sneaking away whenever there was an Akuma alert. But luckily Freyja magic’d her room to be soundproof so Marinette could privacy. Trixx had no problem pretended to be her, should anyone knock.

Everything was good. Everyone was happy. Except for two times. The first came when Hope mentioned during dinner about returning to school.

“Oh, I’ll go with you,” Marinette said brightly to her sister who sat next to her, not noticing how her words caused the room’s occupants to stiffened. “I can give Lizzie the dress I made her. She’ll love it.”

“I still don’t get why she likes you and not me,” Hope asked incredulously.

Marinette stuck her tongue out, “Josie likes you well enough. And Raphael. And Landon. And…”

“Oh shut up,” Hope blushed.

Klaus sat his cup down slowly, “You will not being anywhere. You will remain here where you are safe.

Hope and Marinette shared a look. Marinette had learned quickly that Klaus was overprotected. Marinette wasn’t allowed to go anywhere without an escort; usually a member of the family. Hope raised an eyebrow ask to ask if Marinette wanted her to handle. Marinette tilted her head the side, with both eyebrows raised; a team up, maybe. Hope smirked; that was a yes.

“No,” Klaus chastised. “No silent conversation at the dinner table. Or at all.” As much as he loved that his daughters got along so well, they tended to unite against him to get what they wanted.

Hope smiled sweetly, “We won’t gone long. School’s letting out. We’ll be gone A day or two at most.”

“I really like Hope’s school,” Marinette said earnestly. “I’ve never met so many kids like me before.”

Elijah decided to aid his brother. “A school full of barely trained vampires, witches, and werewolves. It is dangerous.”

“Oh come on,” Hope crossed hers. “I’m there most of the year.”

“That’s different,” Freyja said. “You’re older; more mature.”

“Well that’s hardly fair,” Kol narrowed his eyes. He used to get told the same thing when he was a child and still human. “Marinette is plenty mature. Age shouldn’t be a factor.”

Klaus glared at his brother, “And yet it is. You will remain here with me. Hope will give Lizzie the dress you designed.”

Hope and Marinette shared another look and then turned to their father with their ultimate weapon in full force; puppy-dog eyes sat to ultimate cuteness. “Please!” They chimed together.

Klaus’ mouth dropped slightly. The adorableness of his daughter was nearly crippling. “No,” he said again. “I will not budge on my decision.”

The girls frowned, and increased their puppy eyes to death level. Their lips wobbled, their eyes glistened with presence of potential tears.

“Stay strong, brother,” Elijah told him.

“Say the man who is doing his best to avoid looking directly at them,” Rebecca giggled.

Klaus’ face softened. No, he told himself, we will not give in. “Never!”

“Pretty, pretty please,” The teenage girls pleaded.

“…Fine.”

The next not so good time came a month later; when Marinette got an Akuma alert late at night. She had been getting a midnight snack when her phone beeped. Marinette had no choice but to rush upstairs, transform, and leave. Unfortunately for her, she hadn’t shut the door all the way, meaning that the silencing spell didn’t go into effect.

It had been multiple Akumas; terrible ones that led to Marinette calling in Kagami, Chloe, and Luka to help her and Chat. It had taken a long time, a lot more than Marinette realized. When Marinette finally asked someone the time, she realized half the day had passed. She hoped Trixx had been able to keep up the illusion.

Marinette portaled back to her room feeling more tired than she ever had before. Only to find Freyja waiting on her bed with the kwami box on her lap.

“Do you have any idea how much your trouble you’re in?” Her aunt asked.

Turned out, her father had come to check on her after he returned home for the night only to find the room empty. However, it was only when his family confirmed they had no idea where his youngest daughter was, that he got angry. They all got angry; fear that someone had taken Marinette. They broke out in different search parties; trying to locate a scent to follow.

Freyja, however, went to Marinette’s room, and to her surprise as soon as she touched the door, Marinette’s voice said she was busy. The blond woman opened the door to find a little fox creature looking frightened.

The kwami had decided to explain a few things about themselves before the angry looking blond decided to try to smite them.

“Oops?” Marinette offered.

Freyja raised an eyebrow, “Oops?” She shook her head. She handed Marinette the box. “Come on, guardian. You have some explaining to do.” Freyja opened the door for Marinette.

Marinette, with the box in her hand, reluctantly followed her aunt to the living room where her family waited.

“Marinette!” Her father yelled, and before she knew it she was in a hug. “Where were you? Do you have any idea how worried I was? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” She promised, and pulled away. “I’m fine,” She said again to her worried looking family.

“What happened?” Hope asked; beyond emotionally exhausted and physically, from the nights events. “You just disappeared.”

Freyja nodded, “It’s turned out our darling little Marinette is more magical than she led us to believe.”

Marinette nodded and opened the box. The kwami flew out of it; setting everyone on guard. The kwami flew around the room introducing themselves. “So… Did I ever tell you I was a superhero?”

“No,” Marcellus chuckled, reaching out slowly for the floating Ox type creature. “No. You didn’t. I’d remember that conversation.”

“Yeah… well it’s like this…”

The Ladybug, magical guardian of little gods, and fighting a supernatural terrorist didn’t go over well. To close out her story, and to prove it, Marinette transformed into Ladybug, and transformed back.

The room was silent.

“You are a child,” Elijah finally said, rage slowly growing inside him. “Children do not go to war. They are not sent to war!”

Marinette winced, “It’s not really a war. More like a Batman versus the Joker.”

“But people have died,” Rebecca said, petting Pollen. “Sure, they’re brought back but they still died; you’re partner, Chat Noir died a few times.”

“What happens if you die, kiddo,” Davina asked. She played with Ziggy in her lap. “Only Ladybug can reverse what the akuma’s done. What happens if Ladybug dies before that happens? Who brings you back?”

Marinette looked down, and remained silent because they all knew the answer to that. No one. If ladybug died, she died.

“So this dude’s possessing school children,” Marcellus said. “And everyone else is so much as feel a lick negative emotion. The only people trying to stop the psychopath is a thirteen-year-old who can do a magical girl transformation leading a bunch of other teenagers who can do the same trick? Really.”

“We’ve been hunting him,” Marinette sighed. “Hawkmoth is possible to find.”

“I’ll help!” Hope said. Roaar was on her shoulder. “You have other Kwami. I can use Roaar. I’ll fight with you.” Her sister was a superhero. It was the coolest thing ever. Everyone knew who Ladybug was. Her posters covered a lot of her fellow students’ walls.

“No!” Half the room shouted.

Klaus glared, “No more fighting. This ends.” Someone had been trying to kill his little girl since she first adorned her hero name. “I’ll find Hawkmoth. And I’ll rip him to pieces.”

“No, brother,” Kol stated. “We’ll rip him to pieces.”

There were nods.

“How? I can’t find him,” Marinette asked. “I can’t even scent him.”

“Fear not, little one,” Elijah had a dark smile on his face. “No one can hide from The Originals.”

Ziggy flew up and whispered in Davina’s ear. A dark look appeared on her lovely face, the room crackled with her power, “What’s this about you being bullied?”

“Bullied?” Hope shouted. “Who’s bullying you? I swear.”

Klaus closed his eyes. On top of everything Marinette was going through, she was being bullied as well. “Explain.”

And so Marinette did. She told about her Lila came to class; lied, turned everyone against her, and pretty much left her friendless in class apart from Adrien and Chloe. How her things were ripped up, the mean texts she got, all the dirty looks. She missed Alya, or rather she missed the Alya that had been her bestie. She missed hanging out with Kim and Alix. But she knew, even if the truth came out, they’d never be friends again. By the end of her story, Marinette had shed a few tears and looked very much like the thirteen-year-old she was.

“So Lila’s dead, right?” Kol said. “No objections? Good. I get dips.”

“You can’t kill her.” Marinette stated.

“Pretty sure I can,” Kol drawled.

Hope narrowed her eyes, “Not kill her. We’re going to do something worse.” She promised. No one messed with her family and got away with it. “We’re going to make her tell the truth.”

“Compel her,” Rebecca nodded. “Make the little shrew learn a lesson or two.”

“Why haven’t you compelled her?” Freyja asked. “I would’ve had the little bitch take a long walk off a short ledge by now.”

“It’s not nice,” Marinette shrugged.

Kol pinched his nose, “Oh we have so much to teach you.” He smirked. “Mikaelsons’ are not nice.”

“We’re not mean,” Hope added. “But we’re not nice.”

“And most importantly,” Klaus broke in. “If you mess with one us, you mess with all of us. We are family.”

“Always and forever,” Hope said.

Marinette nodded. “Always and forever.”

For the next few days, her family watched her like a hawk. Marinette didn’t know if Hawkmoth had been drained from the multiple akumas or what, but it took a week before another alert appeared.

Luckily for her, Hope was on guard duty while the rest of the family either in town taking care of business or was in the woods, close by, perfecting their hunting skills. Marinette had been sketching with Hope in the living room when her phone chimed. She glanced at it and saw the Akuma Alert.

She glanced at the stairs. Could she do it, she wondered. Could she make it up the stairs to her room and portal out before anyone caught her.

“Don’t even think about,” Hope said putting down her paint brush. She held up her own phone, and gave Marinette a look. “You’re not the only one who gets notified now. If you’re going, I’m going.”

Marinette sighed, “Fine but if you’re going to fight; you’re suiting up.”

“Just one thing…” Hope trailed off. “It’s another multi-akuma alert. I think we’re going to need more help.”

“What are you thinking?”

Hope grinned.

Lizzie, Josie, Raphael, Landon, and MJ stood in front of Marinette and Hope looking stunned. After a few vows of secrecy, Marinette had transformed into Ladybug in front of them.

“You’re Ladybug,” Lizzie grinned. “And you want me, us, to do a superhero team up. I knew I liked you.”

“And you don’t like me,” Hope added. “What the hell?”

“That’s what’s up,” Kaleb said and gave MJ a low-five. “Free trip to Paris and I get to be superman for the day. Let’s do this.”

“This is incredible,” Josie looked like her mind was processing a thousand thoughts a second, “I’ve heard of the Kwami and the guardian. But I just thought they were legends. Or that they’d died out. Dad’s going to flip.

Landon looked concerned, “it’s safe, right. The transformation. Not fighting an evil terrorists. Because that’s obviously not safe.”

Hope looked at Marinette who nodded. The older girl grinned, “Roaar, strips on!” And just like that, Hope was transformed into a tiger-themed hero; her hair was intricately braid back, she had ear and a tail; her custom was mostly black with orange stripes. She had long claws, and staff. “Easy as pie.”

“Oh I’m in,” Raphael said. “Try and stop me. Wait do who I get?”

That started the request and arguments.

In the end, Lizzie got Trixx. Kaleb got Stompp. Josie got Fluff. MJ got Barrk. Raphael got Wayzz. And Landon received Mullo.

Marinette briefly briefed them about their powers and what to expect. She opened a portal.

Hope ran to the window, “Hey, we’re going to fight an evil megalomaniac in Paris be home soon.” And then the kids were gone.

Elijah and Kol who had been in the woods when they heard Hope yell raced back. However, by the time they arrived, the kids were gone.

“Ok, Marinette is just not making this easy on us,” Kol huffed. “She’s not even pretending to.”

Hawkmoth didn’t see the new team of heroes coming. The akumas were quickly dismantled. The older teenagers had the time of their lives running around Paris, using superpowers in public, something they always had to avoid before; and just being their full awesome selves.

When the battle was over, and the kids had transformed and retuned all phone call they’d missed. Alaric wasn’t happy about their spontaneous superhero trip. Klaus wasn’t happy they left without informing him, or taking him with them. He also wasn’t happy about Caroline calling just to yell at him for her daughters running off to Paris to become an Avenger.

The kids promised they’d be home soon; said the kwami to transport had to recharge. Technically that was true. However, the kids took their sweet time roaming around Paris. Marinette introduced Hope to her parents, who easily took a shine to their daughter’s sister.

Lizzie spent most of the time; spamming the online student website with pictures of herself in Paris.

When the kids ran into Lila and Alya on the way out of a boutique. The girls had been nasty as soon as they saw Marinette, causing the older teens to glare. They had heard from Hope about Marinette’s bullying situation, and they were ready to raise hell. However before Marinette or even Hope could get involved, Lizzie Saltzman. She knew a bully when she saw one.

“You bad hair and awful clothes,” Lizzie pointed at Lila. “What’s your name?”

“Lila Rossi,” Alya snapped. Lila pretended to cry. “The Lila Rossi. The Nicest girl on the planet.

“Yeah whatever,” Lizzie pulled out her phone. She showed her phone screen. “Look at the type Lila Rossi in google, and nothing. Google doesn’t care. Don’t see why I should.”

Alya blinked, “That’s not right,” She murmured and pulled out her phone. And sure enough, “Nothing. Just what I put on the Ladyblog.”

“You mean the blog Ladybug herself discredited?” Josie asked, with a raised eyebrow. “Because of lies. Maybe Lila’s why stopped trusting you.”

Mj stepped forward and looked Lila in the eyes, “You are going to tell everyone in your class just how much a liar you really are,” He compelled her. “And for the next month, you are only going to tell the truth. You will not bother Marinette again.” He looked at Alya. “Both of you leave. Now.”

With blank stares the girls departed.

By the time Marinette got back to New Orleans and to her family, her phone had been flooded messages of apologies. She didn’t respond to a single one. Instead, she helped her family prepare for their trip to Paris.

Hawkmoth wouldn’t know what hit him.

#ml fic #ml salt fic #ml salt #marinette dupen chang #Marinette deserves better #legacies #klaus mikaelson #vampire diaries #hope michaelson #the orignals

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thefanficmonster · 3 years

Text

Never Alone

Connor Walsh & Michaela Pratt (How To Get Away With Murder) ft. The Keating 5

Warnings: Abuse, Abusive Relationship, Swearing, Trauma, Description of Injury

Genre: ANGST, Hurt/Comfort, Platonic Relationship

Summary: While working on a particularly tough case in the ungodly hours of the night, whether it’s due to the lack of sleep or the sudden need to confide in another human being, Michaela admits some truths to the person no one would think she’d ever do so to - her rival Connor Walsh.

Requested by Anon and requested as a birthday present by another Anon. Happy birthday darling Anon! Thank you so much for giving me the honor of writing you a birthday present though I hope the short notice doesn’t affect the fic’s quality. I accept the most brutal of feedback, but nevertheless I hope you enjoy it! Enjoy your special day! Lots of love, Vy ❤

“You know, just because you’re still awake and staring at a document doesn’t mean you have an upper hand here. Whether you’re actually reading that file is what will determine who gets the trophy, Miss Shooting Star.“ Connor Walsh waltzes into the living room turned office of the Keating home, looking and sounding a little too refreshed for someone who has had the same amount of sleep as everyone else of the K5 - minimal. Yet, unlike his teammates, he’s still perfectly functioning, talkative and looking forward to being productive without accidentally falling off a chair after being consumed by the slumber his body is probably dying for. It probably has something to do with that cup of coffee in his hand - his tenth one today, if Michaela’s counted correctly.

“Call me that again and I’ll shoot the damn trophy at your forehead.“ Michaela hisses back at him, tired, stinging and bloodshot eyes never leaving the piece of paper she’s been holding, reading and re-reading for the past twenty minutes, never really managing to grasp the words written on it.

“Good luck taking it from Asher. The Douche has fallen asleep with it in his arms.“ Connor sinks down in one of the armchairs, leisurely picking up one of the files laid out on the coffee table, looking at it with little interest.

This time Michaela’s gaze does indeed leave the paper so it can land on her rival, as she raises an eyebrow that somewhere between shocked and offended, “That asshole’s asleep?”

“He’s not the only one.“ It’s Connor’s turn to not spare her a look while answering, “Him and Wes are as good as dead on the kitchen island. Laurel and Frank are most likely awake, but also most likely not working on the case. Well, not this case, that’s for sure.“ He chuckles at his own joke, seeing as how his correspondent found no humor in it, “So, it’s down to you and me and Bonnie if she throws us a bone, which I doubt she will.“

Annalise was very clear with what she had said. Speaking the whole truth here, the five college students weren’t really paying attention until they heard that very strictly spoken phrase: “No one leaves here until someone finds something. Anything” aka the last phrase their professor had graced them with before walking out to go meet someone important for the night. She had every right to be strict and maybe even a bit cruel to them after they all had been exhibiting typical brat behavior throughout the day. To make matters worse and the job even tougher, Annalise had instructed Frank and Bonnie to go home so the kids would really be left to their own devices. Bonnie had had enough so no amount of begging her was gonna get her to stay - it’s also been proven that no amount of voicemails are gonna get her to come back either - but Frank, solely because of Laurel, stuck around and has so far not proved to be any kind of extra help - the polar opposite, in fact, he’s been distracting them all with jokes and snide comments at how incompetent they all are. Now if that wasn’t the most hypocritical thing.

“If the pressure wasn’t on already, I’d like to remind you we have...“ Connor turns his hand over, checking his wristwatch, “less than four hours until we have to show our not-showered, sleep deprived asses in court.“

Michaela groans, squeezing her eyes shut tightly. Not that she’d ever admit it, but she was actually glad to have an overnight task, something that wouldn’t allow her to go home, but this is beginning to be too much. What others would call ‘home’ Michaela refers to as or ‘hell’. It was place she called ‘home’ at one point too, but it wasn’t long before things started going south. And by ‘south’ I mean horribly wrong and toxic. The man she thought she’d one day call fiancée and then husband has now become a monster from her worst nightmares. Having grown up in an abusive household, Michaela had always dreamed of finding a place for herself, a place she’d feel safe in. With a person who’d love her unconditionally and provide her the security she lacked growing up. And that’s what she thought she saw in Miles. She wasn’t wrong for the first few months, the fucker was good at putting up a front, putting on a show for everyone to build a positive opinion of such a disgusting human being.

The mask started falling apart shortly after Michaela moved in with him. She didn’t accept his offer without any thought, quite the contrary actually - she pondered it for a week and a half, her heart taking the win in the end. Well, her heart may have won that time but it is now in pieces. Her eyes have never cried so many tears and her skin has never bled nor been bruised so badly before. She feels broken, alone, betrayed, hurt. She feels all she felt every time she got hit as a kid. She feels like the whole world has equipped knives and guns, each with her name on them, ready to put her through torture.

And she’s got no one to tell, because no one will know what to say back. For some reason, when people are speechless they tend to say the dumbest, most hurtful crap without realizing. Hearing that on numerous occasions before, she knows what effect it’ll have on her, so she strays away from speaking up about it. She’d rather be alone and battle her demons than present those demons to someone else who will introduce new ones into her head and life.

She prefers solitude and isolation over additional torment. It’s always been an easy pick for her.

“If you don’t wanna fight this battle on your own, go fetch me a cup of coffee.“ She instructs, half-expecting the turn-down she receives immediately afterwards.

“You really think I’m gonna help you when you are the closest thing to competition I have in this group of dimwits? Go get it yourself.“

Michaela rolls her eyes, wondering why she even asked such an abomination of a question in the first place. Finding her legs too dead to take her anywhere, she remains in her spot with a heavy sigh, returning to her attempt at reading the file she and the rest of the Keating 5 five have read through a dozen times today just to find nothing off about it.

“Hey, this one’s marked twenty-three, that one on the table’s twenty-five, where’s the twenty-fourth one?“ Connor suddenly perks up suddenly, cutting the short silence that had fallen upon them. With the least amount of energy she’s managed to save up, Michaela waves the file she’s holding, blinking away the blurriness of that clouds her eyes. “Give it to me, I need to make some comparisons.”

“Come get it yourself.“ She barks back with the same amount of spite he used barely a minute ago.

Unlike her though, Connor complies, finding that file necessary for some reason despite knowing it’s useless. It’s all pointless and they’re all gonna hear it from Annalise tomorrow morning regardless. But the most they can do is keep trying - trying to prove themselves worthy of that trophy.

Getting up with the most exaggerated distaste in his movements, Connor crosses the distance between the armchair he’s been sitting in and the couch Michaela has not moved from for hours, surrounded by piles of paperwork, folders and files. Much to his surprise, she doesn’t even put up a fight, clearly having been fed up with staring at the same words and not grasping anything for half an hour at this point.

“Thank y-“ Connor is a syllable away from finishing his sarcastic statement of gratitude when his eyes land on something peculiar, he’d even call is quite worrisome - a large scar going from Michaela’s elbow to about midway down her forearm. It looks to be recent, given that there are still some dried specs of blood around it, “Holy shit....“ He mutters, carefully taking hold Michaela’s wrist as to gently turn her arm a bit more to the side in order to examine the cut, “What the hell happened to you?“

Not having realized what he was examining before, Michaela’s eyes widen when they follow his gaze and land on the very cut she spent an hour taking care of last night. That cut is the aftermath of a drunk boyfriend who wanted nothing more than a reason to start an argument with her when she got home. A reason to hurt her. Coming into work this morning, despite the high temperatures, she was stubbornly keeping a long sleeved jacket atop her shirt to keep the ugly remainder of yet another failure hidden. The relationship in and of itself is a toxic failure, but it’s built of other failures Mihaela blames herself for - she believes she fails every time he hurts her. She thinks she’s the one to blame for the failure because she couldn’t protect herself. So she feels ashamed, disgusted and is attacked by that sense of betrayal all over again.

Feeling these three emotions flooding in at the sound of Connor’s concern, she snatches her arm out of his grip, keeping the scar out of his viewpoint while her eyes scan the room, looking for the jacket she doesn’t remember discarding. “Piss off, Connor. It’s non of your business.”

If she had said something along the lines of it being an accidental injury, Connor might’ve even believed her and let the whole thing go. However, seeing hw distressed his question has made her become, he feels there’s a lot more to it than she’s letting on. So, fully aware it’s non of his business, he keeps prodding on for a reason even he himself doesn’t understand, “Maybe not, but that’s a concerning scar, you might wanna get it checked. In fact, it already looks like it’s infected with something.”

Michaela’s brows furrow, her distress growing into genuine fear as she removes the hand that’s partially covering the scar to check on it and try and see what Connor saw to lead him to make such an observation. Connor takes this opportunity to also get a better look at the cut and it doesn’t take him a while to realize what tool was used in causing it - a shard of glass.

“Michaela, it may not be my business...“

She cuts him off with hostility, “It’s not”, but her words are choked up and wavering. Her voice is shaking like she’s seconds away from bursting into tears. And Lord knows crying in front of Connor Walsh is the last thing she wants to do.

“Right, but you can’t tell me that’s an accidental cut. That looks very intentional, very straight, and very much like someone inflicted it on you.“ Seeing her barriers slowly starting to sink despite her best attempts at keeping them up, he keeps his pursuit of his secret, for the first time genuinely curious to get to the bottom of what’s troubling Michaela and not a single ulterior motive in his mind. “You can’t tell me that I’m wrong. I’ve had my fair share of glass shard injuries in my life too.“ The girl’s gaze remains glued to the floor but Connor doesn’t miss the tear that escapes her left eye, sliding down her cheek. This only strengthens his will to getting the truth out of Michaela. “I know I’m not among your favorite people, but I’m not a piece of scum, damn it. You can tell me, Michaela. Believe it or not, you can tell me.“

Silence takes over, loud silence, the one on her end filled with the inaudible sound of her walls coming down quickly. She’s left bare and exposed. surrounded by their rubble and unable to look her rival in the eye. Though, is he much of a rival at this moment? He appears dangerously close to a friend. Hell, Michaela would even make a snide remark about it if her insides weren’t so broken - her heart, her soul, her mind, they’ve all been shattered, bruised and bloodied way worse than her skin.

“Turn around.“ She says out of the blue, the order sounding more like a plea especially when accompanied by another tear freeing itself from the confinement of her pride. When Connor doesn’t move, she finally looks up at him to meet his baffled gaze, “Turn around so I don’t have to see the pity in your eyes when I tell you I’m a pathetic victim of an abusive relationship. The punching bag of an asshole with a short fuse and a drinking problem. A failure to myself and my family. Is that what you wanted to hear? Do you think you have the upper hand now?“ Behind the tears that are spilling freely now is the mix of rage, devastation, dread and sorrow. It’s a dangerous combination that could cause her to pounce at him any second, push him away, take her anger out on him.

But that’s what he wants her to do.

He wants her to let it all out, free herself from all that’s been sitting on her chest. He wants to free her from whoever’s responsible for that scar on her arm and those thousands of little cuts on her soul, all still openly bleeding and unable to heal. He wants to save her. And it’s scaring him. He wants to write it off as basic human decency but deep down he know there’s something more. As much as the both of them would like to deny it, if one of them left the Keating 5 tomorrow, the other would miss them greatly. Threats, accusations, arguments and bickering aside, they are aware how great of a team they are. What a good pair of friends they could be if they just let their pride slip aside. But they don’t, and maybe they shouldn’t. Maybe that’s why they work so well.

However, even with that theory in mind, they’ve both let their pride go in this very moment. Walls and barriers have come down, lines have been crossed and they see each other differently now - More as fellow hurting humans rather than rivaling lawyers-to-be. Closer than ever, that’s for sure.

“Listen, Michaela...“

She once again cuts him off, “I don’t want your pity, sympathy or your advice. I don’t need you telling me to leave him! You think I haven’t thought of that?! You know nothing about it, you don’t get to judge me on my actions and choices!” She’s sobbing at this point with no hopes or ways of stopping the strangled noises from leaving her throat or the tears from escaping her red eyes.

Connor quickly crouches down in front of the couch so he’s at eye-level with her, his hands taking gentle but firm hold of her shoulders, “Michaela, no! That’s not what I wanna say! Listen to me, damn it.“ To his surprise, this actually gets her to calm down and stop thrashing to get his hands off. Slightly relieved, he pursues what he started, “I know, I know exactly how it is. Every time he does something nice it outweighs the bad. It’s those good moments that make you stay, I know. But those moments are the rare rainbow after a ton of rain. They are not worth this pain and suffering you’re enduring. He’s not worth it. You deserve so much more, so much better and you are aware of that!“

“But no one else is!“ She snaps, her hands coming up to hide her face, “No one else sees my worth beyond the job I do or the person that’s willing to put a ring on my finger. No one sees me for me, Connor! My value is determined by what kind of men find me decent enough for their beds or family contracts! What kind of response do you think I’ll have if I leave yet another relationship?“

Her words break his heart but he doesn’t let it show in his eyes, he’d rather close them than let her see that pity she fears and despises. He doesn’t pity her, far from it, but a simple misunderstanding on her end could break this already fragile bond they’ve built so he keeps his feelings at bay.

“Fuck them! Michaela, you are an adult woman, they can’t control your life anymore! No one can! That’s why you need to cut ties with those whose opinions you fear most. I don’t know what kind of stick they have up their asses, but without them you won’t be alone. You’ll be free!“

“And you’ll still have us.“ The sudden and new female voice comes from behind them, right by the doorway.

Both of them turn to look in that direction to find the four missing members of this late case-digging session: the sleepy Asher and Wes with Frank and Laurel beside them.

“I have no idea what you guys are talking about, but Michaela, you will not be alone, no matter what the context is. We might not be the best friends one can ever have, but we sure as hell aren’t monsters.“ Laurel continues, being the only one to actually take a step in the room while the three men stay put, uncertain of how to approach the situation. “I think we all care about each other to some degree. So, I want you to know, we care about you and we’re here for you. No matter how many times you leave us in the dust with your eyes on the prize.“

That remark manages to get a smile out Michaela even with the tears that are still not done rolling down her cheeks. Asher is also quick to pipe in, “I second that! Anything you need, we’ll be here. Need us to bust someone’s skulls - we’re your people.”

Scoffing, Connor shoots Michaela a look, “Now that’s an idea. Give us the address of that shithead and consider it done.”

She rolls her eyes, “Let me get my stuff out of there first. I don’t want you getting blood on any of it.”

Connor stands up from his crouched position and turns to the rest of the team with a determined look and a hint of a smile on his face, “You heard her folks! The lady wants to collect her stuff, and I’ll be damned if I let her do it alone.” He turns back to his temporarily-not-rival, “Come on, you can crash at my place until this friendly phase of ours fades. Then I’m dumping you at Laurel’s.”

She narrows his eyes at him, “Hilarious.” Suddenly her eyes widen, eyebrows shooting up, “Wait, what about the case?”

“Laurel and I found something, already turned it in. We were coming here to send you guys home.“ Frank replies in his usual reassuring manner.

“Ooooh, so you were working on the case after all!“ Asher comments, wiggling his eyebrows at them.

“Yeah, we were. Unlike some who were asleep in the kitchen cuddling a trophy.“ Laurel retorts, sending him the most sarcastic of smiles.

This whole interaction between her...well, her friends has lifted Michela’s spirits enough to get her up on her feet, “In that case, better get prepared to help me pack three large suitcases.”

And with that the Keating 5 (plus Frank) disembark, heading to their new mission. Walking out of the Keating household with four people, all unconditionally supporting her without even knowing what’s going on and one person with his arm tightly wrapped around her in a protective manner, Michaela has never felt more safe and secure. She might not love these people and they might not love her either, but they are all fond of each other. And if their fondness has reached the degree where they’re willing to accompany her and aid her escape from the hell she’s been trapped in this past month and a half, she’s willing to call them friends.

Some closer than others, but she cannot admit that knowing that in a week’s time her and Connor will probably be at each other’s throats again. And she’s fine with that. Rivalry’s a type of friendship too, ain’t it?

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buckysflannelpajamas · 4 years

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Bleeding Hearts

Summary: Being Tony Starks daughter has its pros and cons. One of the pros being you get to live with your best friends, the Avengers. One of the cons you will soon find out is having to deal with the one and only, James Buchanan Barnes...

Takes place during that made up time after civil war where everyone lives happy in the tower.

Female reader Insert. Reader is referred to as Y/N

Chapter 2

Third person POV, Bucky’s perspective

Bucky wasn’t sure what bothered him more. The fact that y/n has ignored him for three days after that morning, or the fact that soon after she was back to being what he assumed was her normal, kind self.

Bucky barely interacted with her yet she still infuriated him. Why did she have to be so happy and nice all the time? Does she not get that everyone else here has a shit ton of baggage. It’s like she was rubbing her happiness in their faces. Not to mention how painfully awkward it was to be around her and Tony at the same time. The girl clearly had daddy issues. It’s like every pleasant conversation they had was forced. Even when they argued it felt like the pair was holding somthing back.

Oh! And not to mention she always has to wear those cute little pajama shorts. That drove Bucky crazy. Does she not get what she’s doing to him! He can’t even focus when he’s around her.

Bucky groaned, rubbing his hand over his face as he got up from the kitchen table to refill his mug of coffee. He just couldn’t get this girl out of his head. She was like a virus.

Speaking of that girl…

“Ah!” Her sweet, unmistakable voice cries out.

Bucky drops the mug from his hand, red ceramic shattering as it his the ground. But Bucky has bigger things to worry about. Someone must have broken into the tower and now they were hurting y/n.

Bucky sprints out of the kitchen and into the hallway by the elevators to find y/n pinned to the floor by… Natasha?

He didn’t have time to question why Natasha would hurt y/n, he had to act fast.

Liked the trained soldier he was made to be, he swooped in fast, ripping Natasha up from y/n and pinning her to the opposite wall.

“What the hell Barnes?” Both woman yell simultaneously.

Huh?

With a few quick movements, Natasha frees herself from Bucky’s grip.

Bucky maneuvers his body between Bea and Nat, guarding the civilian girl.

“Y/n are you alright?” Bucky’s eyes don’t leave the redhead in front of him.

“Chill James I’m fine. Nat and I were just training.”

“Training?” Bucky’s stance relaxes.

“Yeah.” Nat says as if it’s the most obvious thing ever. “What else would we be doing?”

Bucky looks back and forth between them in confusion. “But I thought-“

“Thought what Barnes? That I was attacking her?” Natasha huffs in annoyance. “Do you really think that low of me?”

Shit. Bucky messed up. He hadn’t even stopped to think about what was happening. He was just worried about y/n. Soft, delicate y/n.

“It’s ok Nat.” Y/n Intervenes. “He was just caught up in the moment. He probably didn’t even realize it was you.”

Ugh why did she have to be so nice to him. He didn’t deserve that. And why did it piss him off so much.

“Yeah, sure.” Bucky takes the out she’s given him. “Just forget about it.” He mumbles as he turns , trudging back down the hallway in the direction he came.

“What’s his problem?”

“No clue.”

Back in the kitchen Bucky stands crouched over the broken mug. Picking up pieces of the ruined ceramic with his metal hand and placing them in the trash.

As Bucky was just finishing picking up the last pieces, Sam walks in, nearly tripping over Bucky.

“Uh, Barnes?” Sam questions. “Why are you on the floor?”

Bucky sighs. Sam was not his favorite person. He didn’t annoy him nearly as much as y/n did but he still got on his nerves. It wasn’t Sam's fault that Bucky didn’t like him. Bucky just seemed to have a problem with people who seemed too happy all the time.

“Broke a mug.” Bucky responds.

“Wouldn’t happen to be my red mug, would it?”

Bucky stands up, opening his hand to let Sam see remnants of the red mug.

Sam groans. “Seriously Barnes? That was my favorite mug!”

“I’ll buy ya a new one.” Bucky shrugs

“You can’t just buy me a new one! That one was special.” He frowns.

Bucky furrows his brows. “It was just a red mug. How could it be special?”

“The taste Barnes, the taste! It made the coffee taste perfect!”

Bucky highly doubted that. He opens his mouth to disagree with Sam but is stopped by another voice.

“What’s with all the noise in here?” Steve interrupts.

“Barnes broke my mug.” Sam pouts.

“I’m sure he didn’t mean to. Right Buck?”

“Obviously.” Bucky grumbles. Why would he purposely break a mug? He's not THAT unstable.

“Hey Buck can talk to you for a minute?” Steve asks, gesturing with his head towards the balcony.

“Sure.” Bucky sighs, following Steve outside.

What did Steve want now? Now don’t get him wrong, Bucky loves Steve, he was his best pal and wouldn’t hesitate to risk his own life for him. But lately Steve seemed to be overly concerned with how Bucky was adjusting to life in the tower. Particularly about how he was getting along with y/n. It seemed that Steve and the girl had become the best of friends. Which would have annoyed Bucky more if it hadn’t been for the fact that y/n seemed to be best friends with everyone.

Bucky closes the door behind him, effectively giving him and Steve privacy to talk.

“What’s up?” Bucky asks.

Steve shrugs it off. “Oh it’s nothing big… just heard you had a run in with Natasha and y/n this morning.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. Of course the tower's princess had to go tattle on him.

“Y/n tell you?”

Steve shakes his head. “No. Nat actually told me.”

Oh.

“Look it was a stupid mistake. I thought Yyn was in trouble.” Bucky looks away.

“Hey.” Steve claps a hand on the other man's shoulder. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You were just trying to help her.” Steve pauses. “I actually just wanted to ask if this meant you were starting to come around.”

Bucky shrugs Steve’s hand off, turning to face him. “Look I was just doing my job.”

Steve sighs. “I don’t get what your problem is with her.”

Bucky decides he’s had enough of this conversation.

“I’m not in the mood to talk about this.” Bucky turns to leave. “If you need me I’ll be in the gym.”

It was two in the afternoon and Bucky hadn’t seen Steve since their conversation that morning. He felt bad for blowing him off early. After all, it wasn’t Steve’s fault that he was in a bad mood. So he thought he’d find Steve and explain to him how he was feeling. Even though Bucky hated talking about his feelings.

After scouring the few floors that the avengers inhabited, he gave up looking and decided to ask Friday if she knew where Steve was. The AI immediately told him that the super soldier in question was in the art studio. Bucky didn’t even know that there was an art studio in the tower.

As Bucky comes upon the open studio door he hears the sound of laughing. One deep voice, clearly Steve’s voice, and another more angelic voice.

Shit. It was y/n.

Bucky means to turn around, but his legs seem to have a different idea as they carry him into the room. He finds Steve hunched over one the large art tables in the room with a charcoal covered hand held over his chest as he lets out a deep laugh. Y/n on the other hand is standing up in front of an easel wearing a paint stained white shirt that comes down to her knees. He wondered if she had anything on under that… He also, for a brief moment wondered what she would look like in one of his shirts.

Y/n has a bright smile on her paint splotched face. A soft laugh making it's way past her perfect lips. But soon her smile is replaced by a neutral face.

“Oh, hey James.” She greets Bucky plainly. No malice in her voice, but no joy either.

Steve turns to face him, his smile still lingering from whatever joke had just been told. “Hey Buck! What’s up.”

“I was just Uh-“ Bucky’s words trail off, his mind distracted by y/n’s painting. It was strange that’s for sure. It was a human face, but with two eyes where the mouth was supposed to be, and a mouth in the middle of the forehead. Crawling out of the mouth were a few small spiders, with a large tarantula halfway out of the mouth. It was kind of disturbing, and, if Bucky was being honest with himself, really cool.

“Bucky.” Steve snaps him out of his daze.

“Huh?” Bucky searches his head for words. “Oh yeah. I was just wondering where you were.”

“Well, ya found me.” Steve smiles “What’s up?”

Crap. Bucky can’t tell Steve he wanted to talk about his feelings with y/n here. Why did she have to be here anyway? Steve is HIS friend, not hers.

“I was wondering if you had seen my hat. But uh, now that I think about it, I think I know where it is.” Bucky gives a tight smile before leaving the room. Not giving either of them a chance to speak.

After Steve finished his art session he went back to their shared apartment and tried to get Bucky to admit

why he had really come to the art room, but it was no use, Bucky no longer wanted to talk about his feelings.

The rest of the day passed and the whole team was currently at dinner, minus Tony, who had just left to go to the bathroom. The center of the table which had previously been full of pizza from Gregorio's pizza kitchen was now bare aside from one slice of four cheese pizza.

Bucky, who had previously been waiting to make sure no one else wanted the last slice, decided that enough time had passed that if anyone else had wanted it they would have gotten it by now. Bucky reaches forward to grab the last slice. Not noticing another, smaller hand reaching at the same time. The two hands collide and Bucky looks up to see who it is. When the pair make eye contact, the group goes quiet, everyone in the room knowing about their dislike of each other.

Y/n, being the kind person she is, offers the slice to him. “You can have it.” She smiles, though Bucky can tell her smile is fake.

“No, go on, you take it.” Bucky offers back. “What the princess wants, the princess gets. Right?”

Suddenly, surprising everyone, Y/n stands up. She slams her fist down on the table, causing everyone to jump. “What fuck is your problem with me?”

The table is eerily quiet, everyone unsure of how the winter soldier may react.

Not a moment later, Bucky abruptly stands up, his chair falling back with a loud slam.

“My fucking problem is that we’re all here-“ Bucky gestures wildly to the group at the table besides y/n. “Saving the world, while you, a civilian, just walk around the tower with a pretty little smile on your face acting like everything going on in the world is happy and bright! Well, it’s not! We have trauma and baggage and real shit we’ve all gone through and here you acting like everything’s fine!”

Y/n opens her mouth to speak but Bucky cuts her off.

“And don't even get me started on your daddy issues. I rather have my teeth pulled then have to stay in a room with the two of you together! I don’t get what the fuck your problem is with each other but you need to figure it out! I mean, shit, does he not give you enough attention?!”

Bucky is seething with rage. His fists white knuckles against the table while his shoulders heave up and down with every breath he takes.

Y/n, with an evil smirk on her face calmly responds, knowing exactly what to say to get on Bucky’s last nerve. “You think I have a pretty smile?” She flutters her lashes.

Bucky, instead of exploding, smiles back. “That’s what you want isn’t it? For all the men in the tower to think you're pretty. That’s probably why you walk around in those tiny pajamas all the time. Hoping one of us will give you the attention that daddy doesn’t.”

The next thing that happens catches everyone off guard. With a lightning fast movement y/n takes a fork off the table (The fork Vision had been using because for some reason he can’t eat pizza like a normal person) and lunges across the table for Bucky.

Luckily, for the well-being of everyone in the room, Natasha grabs hold of the girl, holding her back from doing whatever she had planned to do with that fork.

“You fucking piece of shit!” y/n screams.

Bucky opens his mouth to speak again but Steve gets up and pulls Bucky out of the room before he can further enrage the girl.

Just as Bucky and Steve leave the room, Tony waltzes back in. A confused look moving to his face when he sees his daughter struggling against the hold of Natasha.

“What did I miss?”

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x stark!reader #sebastian stan

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owl-noire · 4 years

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Say Your Prayers: A Reservoir Dogs Fic (1/3)

Fandom: Reservoir Dogs Pairing: None? But like, some. Honestly, this fic isn’t about romance. Summary: It's a few days after their latest heist, and Freddy never showed at the rendezvous. Larry doesn't think much of it--delays happen--until somebody leaves a photograph at the hotel room door. The kid's in trouble. And in their line of work, "trouble" can lead to "dead" very, very fast.

Ao3

They made a narrow escape, but all escapes are narrow when bullets start flying, and considering none of them found their mark, Larry decides it might have been a good day after all. Whatever made Joe decide ripping off a drug lord was worthwhile, he'll never know. Must've been some bad blood between them. And if the blood is sour enough to piss off Joe Cabot, then it's sour enough to piss off the rest of the boys. But hey: job's done, nobody died, and now Larry, Mr. Brown, and Mr. Pink are safely at the rendezvous.

It's an old hotel. Mr. Brown was--and still is--ecstatic about the old-timey elevator with the cage and crank. There's an operator, too. Larry doesn't like thinking about the margin of human error, about how it would take one easy mistake for the cage to plummet, but he pushes it aside. He's calm. Has to be. Next to him, Mr. Pink is a nervous wreck.

"Fuck man," Pink says. "I fuckin' hate elevators. Couldn't we have just taken the stairs?"

Larry gives him a look. "We're on the tenth floor."

"Your point?"

"Hey," Mr. Brown points out. "Look down. You can't even see the floor anymore."

Pink groans and shuts his eyes. "I'm gonna die."

"No you're not," Larry tells him, a little exasperated. Still, the words remind him of a similar time, a while ago now, but with Mr. Orange--Freddy. Larry tries not to think about that day too often. Kid nearly bled to death in his arms, and that sort of thing messes with the head.

The elevator finally pulls up to the tenth floor. Mr. Pink is the first one out as soon as the gate opens, followed by Brown, then Larry. He tips the operator and lingers back a second.

"We're waiting on one more," he says. "He's a scrawny little shit and probably wearing a jacket that's way too big for him." Larry hands the operator another five. "Can't miss him. Make sure he knows where we are."

The operator, some guy in his thirties who looks like he hates his job, nods. "Sure thing."

Larry starts after Mr. Pink and Mr. Brown. He never bothered learning their real names, and they never bothered telling him. They know his, but that's mostly because Larry hates that anonymous crap. But he played along for Joe and they all walked away happy. Better than things usually go.

"I can't believe I have to share a room," Mr. Pink is muttering to himself. He sees Larry walking down the hall and gestures at him. "How come you get one to yourself and I'm stuck with this sack of shit?"

"Oh excuse me, are you the one paying the bill?" Larry shoves past Pink toward his door. "No? Alright then. Quit complaining."

He's already into the room when he hears Pink mumble something under his breath. Larry doesn't really care what he says. He shuts the door behind him and sits on the bed with a groan. He's absolutely exhausted, now that the adrenaline from the job's worn off. And, to make things worse, there's a small knot forming in his stomach. Call it instinct, but he only gets it when something isn't right. Joe would call him paranoid. Freddy, too. But considering neither one of them are here, Larry's left to his own thoughts.

Freddy hadn't shown at the rendezvous. Mr. Brown and Mr. Pink had, both within five minutes of each other. Larry hopes the kid is just late. After all, it was the first job he'd pulled since... well, since the diamonds.

Talk about shock. Larry could still remember how his goddamn heart nearly stopped when Freddy told him the truth, that he was a cop and was supposed to tip off others to the heist, but hadn't. And then he'd taken a bullet meant for Larry, shot by some good samaritan trying to play cowboy.

Larry would be lying if he said he hadn't considered leaving Freddy behind. He'd betrayed him--and that stung. But hell, the kid had saved his life and was bleeding out and goddammit, Larry couldn't. He just couldn't.

But that was months ago. Water under the bridge, though convincing Joe of that had taken every ounce of persuasion Larry could summon. But he had. Somehow, he had, and here they all are. Safe. Happy. Alive.

He sighs and leans back on the bed. He'll give Freddy another couple hours, then see if Joe heard anything. Any luck, the kid's already on his way.

Wherever he is, it's dark. Dark, wet, and cold. All the worst things anybody can imagine after they've just been hit.

Freddy groans and tries to shift into a more comfortable position. He can't see anything, but he can feel. Oh God, he can feel... and it's like somebody's dragged him through a meat grinder. He can hear something dripping. Dimly, he hopes it's water and not blood from... from... well, wherever it is he's bleeding. Because he's definitely bleeding; he just can't figure out why.

It takes him a moment, but he eventually realizes he's sitting. Okay, that's a bit of a nicer statement than reality. Reality is, he's tied to a chair. Ropes dig into his wrists and ankles, and he can already feel the beginnings of burns. He tries to flex his fingers, but the moment he moves them, pain flares and he cries out. The sound is muffled by the gag stuffed in his mouth, but it's there nonetheless. Something's broken. He doesn't know if it's his fingers, hands, or all of the above, but whatever it is, it hurts like a bitch.

"You're awake."

He hears the voice, deep and slow and way too close to his ear. Without much thought, he shies away from it--and only then does he realize he's been blindfolded. His chest constricts.

Blind. Can't move. Can't talk. This isn't good.

"I was wondering when that'd happen," the voice continues. "Thought maybe my boys roughed you up a little too much."

Freddy takes a deep breath, in and out. He needs to stay calm. Staying calm will help him. Staying calm will keep him alive. Staying calm is what Larry would do.

"Me and Joe Cabot go back a long time." The voice is circling him now, vulture-like. "Never thought he'd have the guts to make a move on me. After all..."

Something nudges Freddy's injured hands, and he can't help his scream as white hot agony flares beneath his skin.

"... I always move back."

Once the pain fades, Freddy tries to think. This must be the drug lord he and the guys had ripped off. This must be Big Frank Muller.

Panic threatens to overwhelm him for a moment. He'd heard about Big Frank from his time in the force--and the guy's nothing if not ruthless. Twisted. Tortures and kills for pleasure. Nobody's caught him because none of his victims survive long enough to get an ID. And Freddy's absolutely powerless, completely at his mercy... or lack thereof.

"Let's get down to business," Big Frank says casually, and Freddy's head snaps sideways as a big, meaty fist slams into his jaw. "Gotta make you look pretty for the camera."

Camera? Freddy thinks dizzily, then feels the skin on his cheek split with another punch. What the hell is this guy going on about?

When he can focus again, having lost count of how many hits he took, his face is throbbing and undoubtedly swollen. He hears the click, then winding of a disposable camera, and has maybe two seconds to breathe before Big Frank starts talking.

"Cabot's going to love this," he murmurs. There's a pause, during which Freddy can feel his heart racing, and then: "Dimmick, too."

Freddy's blood goes cold for a split second before he starts struggling. Now? Now he understands. He shouts against the gag, choice words and insults that would make his mother roll over in her grave. But they're useless. The next thing he knows, something hits the back of his head and he begins to lose consciousness again.

Larry, he thinks before he goes under. Stay safe. Please stay safe.

It's roughly around eight pm when Larry wakes up to a knock on his door. He groans and wipes the sleep from his eyes, then checks the phone. There aren't any messages. He frowns and sits up, the knot in his stomach coming back with a vengeance. The front desk is supposed to call him when Freddy shows--and they haven't yet. He doesn't know what that means, if it means anything at all, but he can't help but think something's wrong.

"Goddammit, White, open up!" Mr. Pink's voice sounds muffled through the door as he pounds on it again. There's also something lacing his tone that Larry doesn't like. It sounds too much like raw panic.

That's enough for Larry to fumble into motion. He stands and makes his way over to the door, undoing the deadbolt and wrenching it open in time for Pink to walk through uninvited. His shoulders are bunched with worry, and he's followed quickly by Mr. Brown.

"What the hell's going on?" Larry demands as he shuts the door and refastens the lock.

"Did you hear anybody out in the hall?" Pink asks, nervously wringing his hands together. "Because we didn't, but somebody was definitely there, man. Somebody was definitely fucking there and they left that fucking picture and shit shit shit!"

Larry holds his hands up and grabs Pink's arm to stop him from pacing. "Slow down. What in fuck's name are you talking about?"

Mr. Pink gives him a look that Larry doesn't like, but says nothing. Instead, it's Mr. Brown who speaks as he reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a photograph.

"He's talking about this," Brown says distantly.

He hands Larry the picture--slow, as if Larry will chop his hand off if he's not careful. At first, Larry isn't sure what he's seeing--it's dark and his mind doesn't want to believe anything anymore. But then the clouds clear, and his breath hitches painfully.

Freddy. Tied to a chair. Beaten and bloody. Blindfolded and gagged. And the look on his face... the pain on his face...

His hands move on their own accord, and Larry flips the photo over. Scrawled on the back, written in cheap ink and even cheaper handwriting, is today's date, followed by a crude drawing of a clock. It doesn't take him long to get the message, and he feels himself going cold all over.

"This is fucked up, man," Mr. Pink hisses as he starts pacing again. "This is so fucked up." He turns to Mr. Brown. "It's fucked up."

Brown nods in silent agreement. Then he turns toward Larry, who's flipped the picture over again. He can't stop looking at it. He feels Brown's eyes on him, followed by Pink's, and the scrutiny and quiet fear threaten to overwhelm him.

But he regains control. And when he speaks, he's suddenly not Larry Dimmick anymore. He's Mr. White--and his boy's just been stolen.

"Get Joe on the phone. Now."

Listen: I have no self-control.

#reservoir dogs #res dogs #freddy newandyke #mr white #larry dimmick #reservoir dogs fic #fic #my fic #my writing

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theexecutionerssong · 3 years

Note

Okay Gaëlle, i hate to do this but I have to. What are your favorite episodes of Supernatural throughout the seasons 1-15🤔 shit you can even tell me why, i would very much enjoy to hear it. Because I am not ready to let this damn show go, so I’ve been watching videos/talking about different episodes all day long.

On are you kidding me sdfghjk i could make you a top 100 but I’ll try to keep it under... 40, in chronological order it is because do NOT ask me to pick my favorites among favorites. And if I start to tell you why, we’ll still be here in a week, so you can draw conclusions from the quotes ^^

2x20 What Is and What Should Never Be: Our happiness for all those people's lives, no contest. Right? But why? Why is it my job to save these people? Why do I have to be some kind of hero? What about us, huh? What, Mom's not supposed to live her life, Sammy's not supposed to get married? Why do we have to sacrifice everything, Dad?

3x10 Dream a Little Dream of Me: Dad knew who you really were. A good soldier and nothing else. Daddy's blunt little instrument. Your own father didn't care whether you lived or died. Why should you?

My father was an obsessed bastard! All that crap he dumped on me, about protecting Sam! That was his crap. He's the one who couldn't protect his family. He- He's the one who let Mom die. Who wasn't there for Sam. I always was! He wasn't fair! I didn't deserve what he put on me. And I don't deserve to go to Hell!

4x01 Lazarus Rising: You don't think you deserve to be saved

4x03 In the Beginning: On November 2nd, 1983, don't get out of bed. No matter what you hear, or what you see. Promise me you won't get out of bed.

4x16 On the Head of a Pin: For what it's worth, I would give anything not to have you do this.

4x20 The Rapture: I wanna make sure you understand. You won't die or age. If this last year was painful for you, picture a hundred, a thousand more like it. - It doesn't matter. You take me. Just take me.

4x22 Lucifer Rising: You're not in this story. - Yeah, well... We're making it up as we go.

5x04 The End: What happened to you? - Life

5x10 Abandon All Hope...: Mom... This might literally be your last chance to treat me like an adult. Might wanna take it?

5x13 The Song Remains the same: It's okay, baby. It's all okay. Angels are watching over you.

6x15 The French Mistake: honestly how iconic, doesn’t need quotes

6x20 The Man Who Would Be King: It sounds so simple when you say it like that. Where were you when I needed to hear it? - I was there. Where were you?

7x04 Defending Your Life: Hunters are never kids. I never was.

7x17 The Born Again Identity: You’re not a machine, Dean.

8x01 We Need to Talk about Kevin: It was bloody, messy. 31 flavors of bottom dwelling nasties. Hell, most days felt like 360 degree combat. But there was something about being there... it felt pure.

8x07 A Little Slice of Kevin: You can’t save everyone, my friend. Though you try.

8x17 Goodbye Stranger: We need you. I need you.

8x23 Sacrifice: Where do I start to even look for forgiveness?

9x06 Heaven Can Wait: Nobody told you. Nobody explained. You're just… shoved out kicking and screaming into this human life, without any idea why any of it feels the way it feels, or why this confusion, which feels like it's… a hair's breadth from terror or pain. You know, just when you think you do understand, it'll turn out you're wrong. You didn't understand anything at all.

9x11 First Born: no proper quotes but it introduced Cain so that’s that.

9x22 Stairway to Heaven: his true weakness is revealed. He's in love... with humanity.

9x23 Do You Believe in Miracle: I'm proud of us.

10x05 Fan Fiction: Supernatural has everything. Life, death, resurrection, redemption -- but above all, family. All set to music you can really tap your toe to. It isn't some meandering piece of genre dreck, it's... epic.

10x14 The Executioner’s Song (what a surprise): First, first you'd kill Crowley -- there'd be some strange mixed feelings on that one, but you'd have your reason, get it done, no remorse. And then you'd kill the angel Castiel, now that one, that I suspect would hurt something awful. And then! Then would come the murder you'd never survive, the one that would finally turn you into as a much of a savage as it did me... Your brother, Sam. The only thing standing between you and that destiny is this Blade. You're welcome my son.

10x22 The Prisoner: When you finally turn, and you will turn... Sam, and everyone you know, everyone you love... they could be long dead. Everyone except me. I'm the one who will have to watch you murder the world.

11x04 Baby: because it was GENIUS

11x20 Don’t Call me Shurley: Fare Thee Well

12x10 Lily Sunder Has Some Regrets: Do it. You blast me away, you'll blast away every angel in the room. I'll survive. Castiel, on the other hand, he's hurt. He might live or he might just end up a bloody smear on the wall. Roll the dice... Yeah. That's what I thought.

12x12 Stuck in the Middle (With You): No, you listen to me. You... Look, thank you. Thank you. Knowing you, it... it's been the best part of my life. And the things that... the things we've shared together, they have changed me. You're my family. I love you. I love all of you.

12x19 The Future: It's a gift. You keep those.

13x10 Wayward Sisters: all of it and it’s a damn shame the spin off wasn’t picked off

14x13 Lebanon: I guess that I had hoped, eventually, you would... get yourself a normal life, a peaceful life, a family. - I have a family.

15x03 The Rupture: (just because i’m an angst hoe) You used to trust me, give me the benefit of the doubt. Now you can barely look at me. My powers are failing, and -- and I've tried to talk to you, over and over, and you just don't want to hear it. You don't care. I'm... dead to you.

15x09 The Trap: You don't have to say it. I heard your prayer.

15x17 Unity: My entire life, you've protected me-- from Dad, from Lucifer, from everything. I didn't always like it, you know, but... it's the one thing in the whole world that I could always count on. It's the only thing I've ever known that was true.

15x18 Despair: I always wondered, ever since I took that burden, that curse, I wondered what it could be? What my true happiness could even look like. I never found an answer because the one thing I want... It's something I know I can't have. But I think I know... I think I know now. Happiness isn't in the having, it's in just being. It's in just saying it. I know. I know how you see yourself, Dean. You see yourself the same way our enemies see you. You're destructive, and you're angry, and you're broken. You're “daddy's blunt instrument.” And you think that hate and anger, that's... That's what drives you, that's who you are. It's not. And everyone who knows you see it. Everything you have ever done, the good and the bad, you have done for love. You raised your little brother for love. You fought for this whole world for love. That is who you are. You're the most caring man on Earth. You are the most selfless, loving human being I will ever know. You know, ever since we met, ever since I pulled you out of Hell... Knowing you has changed me. Because you cared, I cared. I cared about you. I cared about Sam, I cared about Jack... I cared about the whole world because of you. You changed me, Dean. - Why does this sound like a goodbye? - Because it is. I love you.

#thank you anon i'm now an absolute mess #80% of these were written by the same 4 people sdfghjk #i should have done a top 5 per season it would have been easier #spn #gaelle parle #Anonymous

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overobsessivewhumper · 4 years

Text

Mutt’s hospital visit

Ahhhh... Finally i got to writing! This took too long! Not one of my best works, but hey... This is extra bad, because my knowledge of hospitals and medicine are very limited

Content warning: hospital, broken ribs, mention of other injuries, modern slavery, past abuse

Tag list: @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @burtlederp @im-not-rare-im-rarr @comfortforthepain @18-toe-beans @haro-whumps @deluxewhump @kungpao-giffy @draganies @spiffythespook @whump-chains @projectstripe

Gavin should have noticed sooner. It was so obvious. Any other person would have noticed. Everything was pointing to it. The coughing, Caleb’s shallow and careful breathing, the way he occasionally clutched his side in pain when he thought Gavin wasn’t paying attention to him. But Gavin didn’t notice, did he? Not until he finally came around to asking Caleb to show him what’s wrong and saw the very unnatural shift of rib bones along his right side.

And Gavin’s ignorance is precisely the reason he’s currently driving as fast as he dares, heart rate going a whole lot faster then it probably should in a healthy human, whilst Caleb sits on the passenger seat, looking equal parts absolutely terrified and confused. Gavin should have noticed sooner. Caleb could have died of internal bleeding! Hell, he could be dying right now!

“Just… Just hang in there Caleb. It’s fine. You’re… You’re going to be fine! This is all fine! You are not dying!” Gavin wondered who he was actually trying to reassure; Caleb, or himself. Gavin glances over at Caleb. Caleb does not look reassured.

“D… Dying?! I’m… I’m dying?” Gavin curses himself for being this shit at handling stress situations.

“No. No. It’s fine Caleb. I… You’re going to be fine! It’s just… just broken ribs. It’s fine.” Turning his attention back to the road, Gavin tries to get his breathing in check, attempting a few slow and deep breaths in a row. Gavin can feel Caleb’s eyes on him, getting the feeling that the man next to him is burning to ask him something, but doesn’t dare to say anything.

“You want to say something, right? Go on. You always have my permission to speak.” Gavin’s words come out a bit choked between his shitty attempts at calm breathing. He can see Caleb fidgeting with his hands in the corner of his eye.

“I… Mas… I… I mean Gavin I…” He closes his eyes, swallowing hard. He clenches his fists before speaking louder, faster and clearer than Gavin heard him ever before. “If you’re bringing me to a… a Pet pound because of a… a few br… broken ribs, I… I beg you not to! I can st… still work! I can be… be useful a… and good, eve… even if I am damaged goods!” For a moment, Gavin can’t say anything. But he jumps back into action when he can see Caleb curling in on himself again, looking horrified at how he just spoke back to his Master. Gavin can sense him going into apologising and begging for forgiveness mode.

“No! I’m not taking you to a Pet pound!” Gavin stops. He’s being too loud. He can’t get loud with Caleb. He tries again, keeping his voice at a moderate level. “I would never Caleb. “ Caleb is staring at his wrists. “Caleb… Please look at me.” Caleb obeys, as he always does. “I can’t look at you right now. Don’t want to get us caught up in a car accident as well… But please. Trust me when I say, I’m not going to give you away. Not now, not ever.” Gavin feels Caleb itching to ask something again.

“It’s okay if you want to ask something Caleb. I won’t see it as rude.” Caleb resumes his fidgeting again.

“I… Ga… Gavin, whe… where are we go… going then?” Good question. Where are they going to? Caleb needs medical care. And fast. Gavin is not risking a man’s death over said man’s assurance that he can work on with broken ribs. Pet medical facilities have the biggest array of different treatments, but Gavin doesn’t trust them, nor does he like the rumours he’s heard about the places. And it could very well scare Caleb, seeing one of those places, and he might assume Gavin might still want to give him away.

No. no way in hell is Gavin taking Caleb to one of those places.

Normal hospitals offer limited treatment for Pets, but only in emergency situations. Well if this wouldn’t be counted as a emergency situation, Gavin didn’t know what would. Gavin shuddered. His dislike of hospitals is big, but he wouldn’t risk a humans life because of one of his silly dislikes.

Caught deep in thought, Gavin almost misses a turn, and ends up having to do it a little too fast and sharp. Caleb gets caught unready for the sudden change of direction, and hits the car door with his shoulder. He grunts in pain, wrapping his arm around his right side as the movement must have jostled his ribs. Guilt pools in Gavin’s stomach, hot and sharp.

“Shit, Caleb, I am so sorry! Crap… Sorry! I’ll try to drive more careful!” Gavin is aware that he’s being too loud, but he can’t help it. Caleb just has a confused and pained expression plastered on his face. Well, at least he probably didn’t mistake me raising my voice as signs of anger, Gavin thinks.

Gavin decides against saying anything else, knowing that he keeps saying thing that just make Caleb worry more. Shutting up is his best option here. And that he does for the rest of the drive. There are no more issues with Gavin’s terrible driving leading to more pain for Caleb, but the way he takes every breath with extreme caution worries Gavin a lot.

Getting Caleb out of the car needs a little bit of patience and gentle coaxing, fear evident on the smaller man’s still bruised face. It’s obvious Caleb wants to obey, but the fear is keeping him from doing that, causing him even more distress. Eventually, Gavin manages to get him out, promising him that he won’t leave his side, and telling him that he can hold on to him if that makes him feel better.

Cautiously, pale, frail fingers wrap around Gavin’s left arm gently, as Caleb’s worried eyes skim across the parking lot. Gavin smiles reassuringly, lightly placing his bigger hand over the smaller, scarred one clutching to his upper arm.

“You’re doing great Caleb.” Caleb doesn’t look like he’s sure he should be allowed to believe that.

Keeping his pace slow as to accommodate for Caleb’s limp, Gavin starts walking towards the entrance of the hospital. Gavin’s concern spikes at how small and breakable Caleb looks clinging to his arm. It’s only been approximately two days since Gavin first saw Caleb kneeling on the floor before him in Mr. Hughes house, but Gavin already knows that if it came to it, he’d be ready to take bullets for this guy. Caleb deserves more love and care and positive attention then Gavin could ever give him and it burns him up inside that people like his boss would find pleasure and amusement in abusing people like him.

Caleb has a poorly concealed expression of pain spread to every corner of his face, worrying Gavin further.

As they step into the hospital, Caleb moves a little closer to Gavin, so close that he’s pressed right against his side. Gavin takes his hand in his.

“Hey… It’s okay. I won’t leave your side.”

Caleb mumbles a quiet “Thank you Master.” in response.

Once at the reception desk, Gavin contemplates just not mentioning that Caleb is a Pet, but eventually decides against it. The chip would get noticed, and he’d only prologue Caleb’s wait for treatment and get them both into trouble.

So he has to explain to the man at the desk, probably in his early forties with black hair and reading glasses, that he’s actually Caleb’s owner. The man’s smile fades to a frown.

“Oh. You’re one of those people. Well you just need to go right down that hall, and at the far left, you’ll find a door leading to the Pet ward. Good luck finding it.” He does nothing to conceal the disgust in his voice or expression. Gavin nods and smiles, before going in the direction the receptionist pointed him. Guilt blooms in Gavin’s chest once again.

It doesn’t take them too long to get there, even with Caleb’s limp. He’s obviously pushing himself hard to walk fast.

Once in the ward, Gavin is greeted with another reception desk, this time maned by a young blond girl, currently typing something on the computer in front of her. She looks up at Gavin, and then over at Caleb. She frowns at Caleb, probably because of the terrified way he clings to Gavin’s side, and the bruises littering his face and neck.

“Yes?” Her voice has a hint of sadness to it.

“I well… Um…” He points at Caleb. “He’s got like… seriously bad looking broken ribs all along his right side and I don’t know how long he’s had them and he could be dying of internal bleeding and he’s in a lot of pain, like… a lot! And I don’t know if some of the bones pierced some of his internal organs or something! It looks really bad!” Gavin couldn’t stop the spew of words from coming from his mouth, barely remembering that he still has to breath.

“Woah there Mister, calm down! Can you show me how bad it looks?” Quietly apologising to Caleb, he tugs his t-shirt up and shows her his right side. “Yeah… That doesn’t look good… I’ll make sure to get a doctor to see you as soon as possible.” She grabs a piece of bright yellow paper and a pen from the side and hands both to Gavin. “In the meantime, fill this out. Waiting room’s over there.”

She points to a door to the side. Gavin nods and steps into the waiting room, Caleb still clutching to his arm.

There aren’t many other people in the waiting room. There’s an elder lady with a tired expression on her face sitting on a chair with a female Pet sitting at her feet. She looks like a rather high class pet, dressed rather fancily. She has her knees drawn up to her chest an her eyes closed. There is a second woman siting in a chair further away. She looks younger and seriously pissed. She has a male Pet kneeling at her feet, a less high class pet then the other woman. The Pet has his arm cradled to his chest, it looks bent in an odd angle. There is a third Pet kneeling in the corner. It seems his Owner has left him here, probably to impatient or busy to wait with his Pet. The Pet has burns running up and down his arms. They don’t look all too bad, but cover a big enough area to need to have someone have a look at them.

Gavin sits down, making sure that Caleb sits in the chair right next to him. The elder lady seems put off by this. Gavin ignores her displease expression and starts filling out the formalities on the paper. It doesn’t ask much. Just basics, like the owners name, address, phone number and year of birth. It asks even less of the Pet. Merely their number and why they where brought here. Gavin has forgotten Caleb’s number by now. He leans closer to Caleb.

“What’s your number again?” He keeps his voice gentle and quiet.

“43002612” Caleb sounds a bit scared. Gavin can feel him trembling beside him. Gavin puts the paper to the side and turns to Caleb.

“Hey… You’re doing so great. And I really mean it. I know how stressful and scary hospitals can be.” He gently takes his Pet’s hand in his, rubbing his thumb across the back of it. “Is the pain bad? Please be honest.”

Caleb stares at Gavin, hesitating, before very cautiously nodding. Gavin frowns.

“But you’re doing really good.” Gavin smiles. For a moment, Caleb’s eyes seem to brighten up slightly.

It seems to Gavin that it takes ages until they get called out of the waiting room, the elderly lady complaining about them getting called out first in the background as they leave the waiting room.

In the doctor’s office Caleb gets asked to sit up on the examination table and take of his t-shirt. He does so with a bit of aid from Gavin’s part.

The doctor is a smallish man with greying brown hair that looks like he’s done with everything. He moves his chair closer to where Caleb is sitting, and scans his chip.

“Oh, only been his owner for a few days then, huh?” He eyes the bruises covering Caleb. Gavin nods, but says nothing. “Okay then. Lets get on with this then. I don’t have much time. Lay down please.”

Caleb looks at his Master questioningly, and when Gavin nods, he does what is asked of him.

The doctor examines the area by pressing at Caleb’s ribs gently and listening to his lungs.

“Well he has four broken ribs on his right side, that’s for sure, but his lungs are fine. But you’re not getting out of running him through an x-ray.”

“What about internal bleeding?”

“Well. I can’t really determine that from outside. We will run an MRI too to determine that.” Gavin nods.

The doctor runs through some technical things with Gavin whilst Caleb sits next to him silently. Gavin soon notices that there is no way he will be able to join Calen during the tests he’ll have to go through, and begins to worry about him. He promised he’d stay at Caleb’s side. When Caleb catches on to this he clings to Gavin even tighter.

“I know I promised I wouldn’t leave your side. I’m sorry, but I can’t come with you for this. I’m so sorry. But I’ll be right back at your side as soon as I can. And that’s a promise I plan to keep.” Caleb looks scared and unconvinced, but, obedient as ever, lets himself get led away.

This is when Gavin really starts to worry. It’s taking way too long. What if Caleb feels uncomfortable or scared? What if he passed out from internal blood loss? Gavin can feel himself hyperventilating again as he paces the halls of the Pet ward. He tries to get his breathing under control by breathing slowly into his cupped hands and holding his breath for ten seconds. It works moderately, but he still needs to lean against the wall for a moment.

It’s just all so much! A few days ago, he had nothing to do with Pet’s at all, nor did he think he ever would, and now, he owns one, and even might be responsible for his death. Yes, he wasn’t the one to inflict the wounds, but he should have noticed. He should have noticed. He should have took Caleb to the hospital straight away. Gavin rubs the palm of his hands across his face. There are so many things he should or could have done. So many. He just hopes he didn’t do the ones he did too late.

When he spots Caleb limping in his direction alongside a nurse, he feels like he can breath just a little bit freer. He starts bombarding her with questions and she tells him to calm down and that she’ll explain in a moment, sending Gavin’s heart racing with worry again.

Once Caleb is back on the examination table, she explains to Gavin that he hasn’t gotten any internal damage aside from the bruising around his broken ribs, and that the fractures are rather basic, so it will heal on its own.

“They won’t need any further medical treatment, but the rest of him sure does.” She glares at Gavin.

Gavin silently holds Caleb’s hand through out the treatment of the rest of his injuries, caressing the back of his hand with his thumb again. At one point the nurse leans in closer and asks something of Caleb. He shakes his head and says something quietly. The nurse looks up at Gavin.

“He says you didn’t do all this to him.” She gestures at the burn on Caleb’s ribs she’s currently tending to. Gavin shakes his head.

“No. I’ve only…” Gavin sighs. “Only been his… his owner for a short while.” She nods, becoming slightly less hostile towards Gavin.

Once she’s done, Caleb is bandaged up much neater then the low quality of bandaging Gavin had achieved. The nurse briefly explains some basics about how to care for the different wounds and how all he could do for the broken ribs is let Caleb rest and ice the area.

“What about some stronger pain killers? He’s in a lot of pain… I’ve been giving him Advil, but it isn’t nearly strong enough.”

She almost laughs out loud.

“Oh dear, no. I’m afraid that’s frightfully illegal.” Gavin blinks in confusion.

“What?”

“Prescribing Pet’s strong pain meds is illegal, dear. Have you been living under a rock?” What the hell?! Gavin runs his hands through his hair.

“Yeah. Apparently I have.”

From then on, Gavin tries to get out of there as fast as possible, wanting to get Caleb into an environment with less people, and himself out of the sterile halls of the hospital which seem much narrow for his liking.

When they are finally back in the car, he feels a little bit more relaxed. But he doesn’t trust himself to drive just yet.

“You did really good in there Caleb! You stayed so calm…” Caleb’s eyes brighten ever so slightly again.

“Tha… Thank you Gavin!” Gavin smiles a bit.

“Are you okay? Please answer truthfully.” Caleb stares at Gavin, trembling slightly. He seems to have no idea how to react.

“I guess what I’m asking is, do you need a hug?” Caleb hesitates and Gavin wonders if Caleb even likes such close physical proximity.

“I… I don’t think I… I deserve a… a reward Ma… Master Gavin…” Oh, so that’s what this is about.

“Well. I think you handled yourself really well in there. I think you deserve it.” Caleb looks unsure.

“I… Really?”

“Yes.” Gavin smiles reassuringly.

“Then… I… I’d be happy to a… accept a hug, Master Ga… Gavin”

Gavin manoeuvres himself closer to the passenger seat awkwardly, and gently wraps his arms around Caleb, careful as not to hurt him further. The position is rather uncomfortable for Gavin, the car’s gear stick sticking painfully into his thy, but by the way Caleb leans into Gavin, he really needed the hug, and then Gavin is more than happy to suffer through some minor discomfort for that.

To be honest, Caleb wasn’t the only one that really needed a hug.

#long post #sorry...#my writing #my OC's #hospital #broken bones #broken ribs #mention of other injuries #past abuse #modern slavery #pet whumpee #pet whump #whump #this did not come out that good...#sorry #my stuff #gavin and mutt

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ascottywrites · 5 years

Text

The Sterek List --Heads

I have a guilty pleasure in enjoying Sterek (Heads) and Steter (Tails) fanfiction, if you could not tell by the last post, it's crazy outta control like woah. I hope you enjoy this list of fics that make my day while keeping me up during all hours of the night and tossing my free daylight moments down a swirling time vortex.

...don't be like me. It's probably for the best.

--Sterek a.k.a Stiles Stilinski/ Derek Hale--

*a.k.a the inappropriate light of my life

Move A Mountain by ZainClaw (Complete: 9/9| 69,008) --Sterek/ --Biker!Derek

Stiles goes camping with his friends in New Mexico after graduation where they befriend a biker gang led by Derek: a guy whom Stiles can’t decide if he will be either relieved or devastated to never see again once their week is up.

Racing With The Wind by lowlifetheory (Complete: 3/3| 26,478) --Sterek/ --Biker!Derek

'Sure thing Scott, I'll give him a ride,' Derek practically leered. Stiles faltered, the sudden image of Derek pinning him down, his muscular torso rippling with movement. Derek's smile spread into a smirk as Stiles got closer.

'I'm not really comfortable with this particular mode of transport.' Stiles said clutching the helmet. He wondered what it was made of, how secure it was, would it save his life if he fell off?

'Don’t worry, I know how to handle her,' Derek said resting a warm palm on Stiles's shoulder, fingers squeezing slightly as he guided Stiles closer to the massive hulking black bike.

'I should hope so,' Stiles muttered glaring at the motorbike.

The Feeling That I’m Under by wearing_tearing (Complete: 20/20| 289,584) -- Sterek/ --Biker!Derek Bunnysuit/Paramedic!Stiles

Stiles is a paramedic and Derek gets into a bike accident. It’s kind of love at first sight.

Part of the Pack by JusteAmusant (Complete: 7/7| 13,035) --Sterek

Season one of Teen Wolf, seen through Sterek-colored glasses. Canon Divergence after season 1 idk there's slow burn Sterek and a puppy, and way more Derek sneaking in through Stiles' window

“He could have shifted in front of them,” Derek hisses. “That means they find out about him, and in turn find out about me.” He pauses. “What the hell is that?”

“It’s a washing machine, what the hell does it look like? It’s a puppy.”

In which Derek is a struggling Alpha, but still the Pack Dad, and oh god, does that mean Stiles is the pack mom?

(There's) Sulphur in Our Blood by WonderWolf (wip: 18/20| 178,650) --Sterek

"Harris put you on a recon mission with Derek. You. Alone with Derek. On a mission. Together,” Scott says, slowly. “Does Harris want you dead?”

“I believe so," Stiles says gravely.

(Secret Agent AU where Derek blames Stiles for his sister’s death and Stiles is pretty sure that Derek’s going to murder him. As if that weren’t enough to deal with, Stiles’ familiar keeps having public breakdowns. Oh, and there’s a mole in the agency, so there’s that too).

Prince Among Wolves by Rawren (Deshonanana) (Complete: 20/20| 101,000) --Sterek

Looking for full day/evening sitter. 2 twin boys age 4. Must have exp. w/werewolves. Must be human. No pedophiles. No teenage girls. Pay negotiable.

Pretty Human Virgin Boy Comes to the Pond- Feed Him All the Best Heads by Delta_Immortal (Complete: 8/8| 49,771) --Sterek/ --Dark!Derek

Stiles knew it was a bad idea to go into the woods, but little did he know his actions would cause the death of everyone around him. Running from the thing that killed Danny, Scott and Stiles stumble upon a pond, which happens to hold a strange man named Derek who floats around in the middle of it. Derek assures them they're safe now.

What appears to be salvation is nothing more than the start of the death of everyone Stiles cares about. The being known as Derek haunts him at every turn, unsatisfied until Stiles succumbs to Derek's whims. Stiles isn't sure if that involves sexing him or eating him, and he really doesn't want to find out.

*This had me like Holy Crap

It Was a Wednesday by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella) (Complete: 2/2| 80,119) --Sterek

What happened? Where are you? What’s that sound?” Derek jumped, having momentarily forgotten Scott was on the phone with him because Stiles had started moving. He’d stalked over to the other side of the cave, still eying Derek warily and growling, then settled protectively over a mass of clothes, leaves and animal innards. It was probably where he was sleeping. Lovely. No wonder he smelled like death. “Stiles,” Derek said, answering Scott’s question. Or, one of them, at least. “Stiles? What do you—Stiles is making that noise?” “Yes.” “Why?” “How fast do you think you can make it to the south lot of the Preserve?”

*Looking for that Stiles whump?

I'll Be With You Through The Dark by the_misfortune_teller (Complete: 61/61| 138,101) --Sterek

"Me and Scott talk about everything, about all my poor decisions.” “So I’m a poor decision?” “Probably, yes. Considering how you rudely threw me out of your apartment the other day after convincing me to kiss you and admit that I like you." ~ Set post Season 2 finale. Stiles is having a rough time at home and finds himself going to Derek for help in Scott's absence. He doesn't expect for Derek to end up turning to him for support, leading to something more than just friendship between them. Slow, slow, fluffy slow build!

*Based on the spoilers that just keep on coming, this is very likely to be canon divergent for s3!*

I Think the Problem Here is There's Nothing Wrong by wait_for_it (Complete: 1/1| 5,156) --Sterek

"Stiles wasn’t really sure what was going on, but if he had to guess, he’d say Derek Hale was losing his touch. The amount of times he’d been called out with the guy, presumably to stake out some new supernatural baddie only to have it be a false alarm, was starting to inch into the double digits."

In which Stiles and Derek are dating and everyone knows it. Except Stiles.

The One You Choose by Livinginfictions (Complete: 7/7| 13,440) --Sterek

Stiles hadn’t seen Scott in over a week, except for glances he caught during school hours.

How I Long For Yesterday by sweetbutterbliss (Complete: 1/1| 6,017) --Sterek

Stiles blinks, his throat going dry, and he moves his thumb without thinking - liking the post. He feels a surge of petty satisfaction. At least the fucker will know he knows now. He stands up, his body feeling too heavy, and he blows out the already guttering candles. He lets out a sob of frustration when the last one won't fucking blow out. But he sucks it back in and bites down on his tongue, using his thumb and forefinger instead.

He throws himself into their empty bed without undressing. He lies there repeating the words 'Derek blew me off for Isaac' over and over. He tells himself to shut up while rearranging his pillow violently, but he goes to sleep with the refrain continuing its painful loop.

And You Say You're Alone by taelynhawker (Complete: 1/1| 30,314) --Sterek

Between the kanima, the Argents, and Peter's untimely return from the dead, everything has fallen apart. Stiles and Derek try to put their lives back together once the crisis has passed. Stiles deals with the aftermath of being tortured, and the distance growing between he and Scott. Derek attempts to become a stronger alpha and keep his pack safe, and that includes Stiles.

Can't Take the Heat? by Ilovesocks_24 (Complete: 15/15| 55,425) --Sterek/ --Chef!Stiles Chef!Derek

Hi, I’m Stiles, and what I have for you today is…”

“Stop, just stop.” Grumpy Eyebrows interrupted. “That is honestly the worst looking Pasta Primavera I have ever seen. I don’t even want to eat it, it looks so bad.”

Stiles narrowed his eyes. No one insulted his creamy bacon carbonara without even trying it. And no one insulted his creamy bacon carbonara after they tried it either. “It’s actually a Creamy Bacon Carbonara, asshole,” Stiles snapped. “And for the record, it’s supposed to look like that.”

Or the one where Stiles is a new sous chef at Full Moon Steakhouse and Derek is the Gordon Ramsay of all head chefs. So of course they fall in love.

*This is one of my favorites

Love Runs Wild by DevilDoll for neptunepirate (Complete: 1/1| 9,494) --Sterek/ Neckz 'n' Throats

"You've got a hickey on the back of your neck!" A Neckz 'n Throats story.

If I Could Trade Mistakes For Sheep, Count Me Away Before You Sleep by alisaj (Complete: 1/1| 33,383) --Sterek

"Thing is, Stiles," Derek says, his voice hard and unfaltering. "I didn't sign up for you. You just hung around until we got used to you being here."

That stings. He hadn't realised how Derek feels about him. They've been getting on quite well, teaming up on little missions and bantering back and forth without malice. Stiles sometimes lets Derek crash in his room after a big fight, trying not to let on how intriguing he finds the werewolf.

"Well now we can get used to you not being here. You're a liability, Stilinski. You can't protect yourself and we always end up having to help you when we've got more important things to do. You're out of the pack."

The one where Derek is a terrible Alpha and Stiles ends up walking into a big pile of shit.

Teach Me How Love Goes by RoseByAnyOtherName17 (Complete: 1/1| 9,482) --Sterek

Derek asks Stiles to have sex with him. Stiles says no, because he doesn't want to get his heart broken again. Somehow it happens anyways, but really, it's his own fault. He's the one who fell in love with Derek against despite knowing how bad an idea it was.

a taste for the forbidden by demonicweirdo (Complete: 1/1| 5,982) --Sterek

Stiles narrows his eyes. “I haven’t been doing anything to you.”

“Bullshit,” Derek snaps.

The air in the room grows colder. “I swear it. The only magic I’ve used around you is to make your crops grow!” Stiles takes a step away. “How could you think that I would… You know what? Screw you, buddy. I’m sick of walking in circles around you.” His words are sharp and annoyed, and his shoulders are tense, as though he’s preparing for a fight. “You feel something for me? Wow, it must be sorcery! Because - what? I’m not good enough for your feelings, Derek?” he snarls.

Hello, Heartbreaker by astoryaboutwar (Complete: 1/1| 18,472) --Sterek

It’s a popular joke among Alphas: fuck an Omega, get heartbreak on your hands. Omegas are fragile little emotional things, needy and whiny. Stiles refuses to become that, or to believe that he’s anything like that.

Stiles and Derek have been fuckbuddies for a while when Derek loses his memories of the past three years - and them - in an accident. (Also - everyone's a werewolf, and everyone's alive.)

Bruises and Bitemarks by orphan_account (Complete: 27/27| 121,566) --Sterek

Biologically, Stiles is weak. When he presented as an omega, he knew that to be the truth but that never stopped him from running his mouth as a defense mechanism. However, it could only save him so many times before he ended up pissing off the wrong person. After he's attacked in the parking lot outside of school, Stiles realizes he can no longer protect himself with just pure wit and sarcasm. When the attack lands him in the hospital, his dad forces him to pick between two options, report the alphas who attacked him or join a kickboxing gym run by omega rights activist and alpha, Derek Hale, a man Stiles has been in love with for many years. *Now includes an extended chapter featuring Nate/Jupiter*

I know that you love me, even when I lose my head by LunaCanisLupus_22 (Complete: 13/13| 135,577) --Sterek

“We’re not mates, Cora,” he insists. “I mean look at him-“

“Ouch,” the kid says, no longer pushing that shit eating grin.

“He’s- he’s,” Derek tries, at a loss of how to explain why this can’t be possible. Why it shouldn’t be possible. Or the one where Derek gets attacked by hunters, ends up with amnesia and forgets Stiles is his mate

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petri808 · 4 years

Text

Everything Changes in a Flash

Psych! You don’t need to wait two days.

that gif is too adorable! @deku-smash

Guess who! It’s your secret Santa! @diablothecat

Didn’t wanna wait any longer to give this to you lol. @kuroshironekoserver

I tried doing the Sengen ship but that was difficult since I don’t know them, so you get a Bakudeku BNHA/Dr. Stone crossover idea instead lol. Frankly, I surprised myself, I kinda like this one. Enjoy ;)

Today was the day Izuku was gonna do it. High school was almost over, and before they may scatter to the four winds, he needed to tell Katsuki everything. It didn’t matter if he was turned down or not, at least he’d know the answer. Well, of course it would hurt worse than breaking every bone in his body if Katsuki rejects him, but injuries heal in time. That’s what he’ll tell himself, anyways.

Thirteen years brought to a single moment in time, the last four struggling to cope with the realization Katsuki was more than just a childhood friend in his eyes, but a romantic crush in his heart. It seemed, once he was no longer in the other’s shadow, Izuku’s true feelings found the strength to grow. Katsuki…. Kaachan… a childhood nickname, turned secret endearment. Every time he said it, the name brought a smile to his lips and an aching joy to his soul.

“What’d ya want nerd?”

The pacing young man freezes as the voice of his unrequited sounds off behind him. Every nerve sets off ricocheting signals along his skin as he uses all of his reserve to keep from setting off his quirk. He turns on his heel in an abrupt motion.

“Bakugou,” Izuku runs his hand shakily through his hair, “thank you for coming.”

“I got your note to meet by the old clubhouse,” he holds up a crumpled piece of paper. “This better be good that I had to come all the way over here.”

‘Just breathe,’ Izuku reminds himself, ‘and stick to the script!’ He takes a couple of steps towards the broken-down shack they once called their hangout. Well Bakugou’s hangout really, he was a nuisance to the blonde back then, always following him and his friends around. The structure of old crates and worn pallet wood had mostly come apart, but the tree it was attached to still stood strong, and larger than he’d remembered.

Izuku runs his hand along the bark, “do you remember this?”

Katsuki’s eyes narrow in on the old, skewed words carved into the tree trunk. He moves in closer, close enough to Izuku that the heat radiating off the other man’s body makes his arm hairs stand on end. His hand reaches out on impulse to follow Izuku’s hand movements, cutting off inches before it touches. He pulls it back.

“Tch, yeah, what of it?” Katsuki averts his eyes to the shack, a slight trepidation in his tone. Izuku had carved their names onto the wood after they graduated primary school. A show of their friendship, the boy had called it at the time, that would last as long as that tree stood firm. Back then Katsuki had scoffed and never took it seriously. So, this mouse of a boy idolized him, no surprise, a lot of the boys wanted to be his friend. Fast forward to high school and that boy was now a young man on par with him. Different yet equal in terms of strength and drive. Katsuki had to admit to himself, the nerd had grown on him.

“I…”

Izuku opens his mouth to talk when a strange thud catches his attention. Both men look down to find a stone bird lying near Katsuki’s feet. That was odd, Izuku tips his head curiously, it was the second one he’d found that morning. He looks up just as another one falls, landing a few feet away.

“What the hell is that?!” Katsuki growls. He stomps over to this second bird and picks it up, turning it over in his hands. “Is the sky raining statues?” Though from where in cloudless skies?

The gears in Izuku’s mind turns, analyzing the situation. Was there a quirk causing this, another mad scientist? Could it be a villain sending bombs disguised as bird statues? They’d grown to be wary and careful now that their names were all over the news. But nothing was making a whole lot of sense and very quickly, the carefully scripted afternoon was thrown out the window. Katsuki himself was scanning the surrounding areas, his own sensibilities on high alert because of the strangeness of the event.

“You know…” as Izuku looks closer at the bird, “I don’t think this is just a statue…” The details were almost too realistic to be made of sculpted concrete or stone. He takes the second one from Katsuki and notices finer nuances that clearly make these two “statues” very different despite being the same species of bird. “In fact…”

“What is that?!” The blinding flash of light grabs their attention from a distance. Now what is it?! Katsuki turns quickly as if to take off in that direction, but not Izuku, something was seriously wrong! A gale of wind funnels through the grove like a shock wave. Birds take flight from the trees, only to start dropping one by one around them as stones. The light, something in the light was causing this. It was growing brighter by the millisecond and heading in their direction!

There was no time to hesitate.

Izuku activates his blackwhip quirk and grabs Katsuki, pinning him against the tree. The man growls and screams to be let go, but Izuku didn’t care, only wrapping the man tighter in its dark form. He could barely hear Katsuki anymore above the whirring sound barreling towards them. Without thinking and placing all his energy into his quirk, Izuku uses his body to shield Katsuki as best he can from whatever this light was about to do to them.

The light bathes them in its yellow hold of, no pain… Izuku remarks at first, but soon, the sensation in his feet starts to fade. He couldn’t feel his feet! His eyes widen, panicked! How was he to protect his friend if he loses the ability to control his quirk?! It was too dangerous to turn around to check on his friend, but he could hear Katsuki cussing up a storm. Loud booms echo from the nearby areas. From what little he can see, Izuku watches in horror as one than two airplanes crash into the ground and send billowing plumes of smoke rising into the air. One of them was precariously close to the dam! New cracking sounds funnel through the forest. Izuku side eyes the stream running past them. Oh no!

“Grab onto the tree!” Izuku shouts as the petrification reaches his torso. “Bakugou, grasp onto the tree!!!”

“Why the fuck would I?!”

“Just do it!!”

It was the last words he could utter as the petrification completes its mission.

Silence…. from Katsuki. As the wall of water hits and washes him down stream, all Izuku can do is hope that his friend had finally listened to him.

Time.

How much of it had gone by? Weeks, Years? He had no clue. Was there anyone left alive? Living in a dark world behind stone eyelids, the only thing Izuku could do was think. It was tough, wondering what had happened. If any of their friends or family had survived. Exactly what was he anyways? Was he still alive and trapped in a stone body? Or was it just his consciousness refusing to give in, with his body long dead. The only thing that kept him from giving in to a deep sleep was his love for Katsuki. If his mind was still alive, then by hell or back he was going to stay conscious!

Wait. That’s strange, Izuku wonders one day. Something about his body felt, lighter. If that was the right word for it. He still couldn’t move, see, or sense anything, and yet… what if he tried to…

Crack.

The faintest light strikes his vision. Vision?! Was the petrification finally wearing off? Izuku wills his mind to push the body he hopes is still viable.

Crack.

More light filters through, blinding like when you walk out of a dark movie theater into the bright lobby. Unable to shield himself from its glare, he refocuses on the mission and pushes again.

Shatter!

Izuku falls to his knees amongst the pile of his broken stone shell. He was free! Alive! He raises his hands up, gazing upon them in disbelief. He was alive! A drip falls on his head and he reaches up, finding a smear of something gooey. He brings it to his nose and smells, shit? Eww! He wipes his hand quickly on a piece of stone. Wait! His smell is back! Sight, smell, touch. It was all real!

The light source from the entrance was minimal, but he takes in more of the scene. A cave with bats, hence the guano. Apparently, he’d been washed into a cave. Drips of water from the ceiling. This location was partially underground and shielded him from the elements. Guano…. Right! Hydrogen and phosphate are high in acidity! Could it have mixed with the water and over the years eroded away the stone?! But, even if that was the case, it must have taken years for the process to happen. Izuku’s shoulders slump. His luck had been great that he’d been washed into a place that fixed him. Now he needed to see if he could fix his friend too.

After leaving the cave, Izuku pauses a moment to take in the warmth of the sun’s rays. Man, it was nice to feel heat again! All those years of darkness and inactivity made the light hurt his eyes, but it was a minor inconvenience. He shields his eyes from the glare, and it was only in that moment that he realized…. He was stark naked! “Crap!” Izuku covers his mouth after letting out a swear word. Something to clothe himself with just shot straight to number one on the priority list.

The brush surrounding the cave was dense. It appeared that the forest had overtaken the land once humans were no longer around to control it. He pushes his way through, careful not to scrape against anything and risk injury. If he were to hurt himself now, he would be really screwed. “Ahhh!” Izuku kicks a hard surface and trips over it. “Oww!”

Crack!

“Huh?” He scrambles to his feet as more cracking resounds.

“What… happened?” The voice moans out, groggy like waking from a long sleep.

Another human! Izuku drops and crawls forward, pushing aside more vegetation that was covering the person. “Todoroki?!” Of all the people to run into!

“Midoriya?” The man sits up with his old friends help, “why am I naked on the ground? And why are you naked too?”

Izuku blushes, “don’t you remember what happened? The bright light turned us all to stone. I don’t know how you ended up here, but I’m guessing that your proximity to the cave and water eroded the stone away like it did for me. My kicking you cracked it and freed you.”

“I don’t understand the bit about the cave, but…” Shoto goes silent for a moment, “I was with my dad when the dam broke and that’s all I remember.” He looks up at his friend, “so, you’re saying we were turned to stone? Why? How long ago was this?”

“I have no idea,” Izuku shrugs, “it happened too fast for any of us to know what caused it, but based on the overgrowth of the forest, it’s been a few centuries.”

Shoto stares at the man, “centuries?” Izuku nods. “That’s unfortunate.”

Izuku sits down beside his friend and runs his hand through his hair. “At least there’s one thing we know, it’s that the stone can be broken and a person freed. We were lucky it happened naturally for us, but if we want to help others, we’d need to speed up the process.”

“It’s amazing, Midoriya, you just woke up from a stone prison and the first thing on your mind is still to help others.”

“We’ll of course!” Izuku blushes but affirms his belief with a raised fist and determination in his eyes. “If it turns out a villain was behind this, it’s our duty as pros to save as many as we can.” And it was true to his self-less nature, he wanted to help who he could, but there was really one person he wanted to free over all of them.

That finally brings a small smile and shake of his head from Shoto. “Any idea how to speed up the process?”

“If I’m remembering chemistry class, fermenting or rotting fruit contain traces of alcohol, mixed with the hydrogen and phosphate laced water, it could speed up the process of corroding the stone.”

Shoto sticks out a hand to Izuku, “then let’s get started.”

For the next six months, the pair work to set up lodging and create the bare necessities for survival. They’d been lucky to have awoken during the late spring, when the temperature was climbing, but soon enough they’d have to deal with winter. With the use of their quirks, foraging and hunting wild game came easy enough, and with meat came the hides and skins for clothing. Neither of the two men had any experience roughing it in the wild, but somehow, they made-due under the circumstances.

Whenever they had a chance, they gathered fruits to ferment, and stored them in a makeshift hot box near the cave to speed up the process. Searching the area was another downtime activity. Very little of the terrain could be figured out based on what they remembered of their time, too many trees and brush had reclaimed the area, and landslides or other natural phenomena had altered things even more. Area’s they were sure once contained buildings and homes built of metal and wood had long since deteriorated.

As for people, within the first week, Izuku had found Katsuki still stuck to the tree. Izuku had breathed a sigh of relief to see that the man had actually listened for once and was gripping to the bark. Vines had partially covered the stone edifice, but overall, the man was in one piece. It was rare, but they found others, some broken beyond repair, but a handful of more still intact. They made a note of the locations so that once they were able to solidify their formula, they could bring them back to life.

And they tried. Using stone birds as test subjects, the pair worked and reworked different combinations of the ingredients.

“If only we could find Mina,” Izuku tiredly remarks, as he drops into a cross-legged position on the cave floor. “Her acid quirk would come in really handy.”

“We’ll find her one day,” Shoto places a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “We’ll keep looking until we find our friends and family.” He sits down, “but, I’ve been thinking, that we should be careful about who we bring back to life, I wouldn’t want to bring a villain back to life or anyone we know is a bad person.”

Izuku rubs his chin, “that is true. It’s something we can assess as we go along.” He didn’t like to think about the negatives, and frankly he was mostly concerned about Katsuki. “Shoto, do you remember where Momo was at the time of the incident?”

That brings a rare blush to the man’s face, “She was supposed to still be at the dorms.”

“Yosh! Then we need to figure out where UA used to be. That’ll be one of our missions!”

Shoto chuckles. He knew what his friend was alluding to. “Plus, we may find others there as well.”

Winter came and went, bringing a burgeoning supply of water leaching through the cave’s ceiling. That was great for the two men, who in anticipation had made dozens of clay pots to catch the drippings with. Izuku held out hope that now almost a year since they’d been freed, they were close to a break-through. That last couple of test subjects had almost seemed promising, with the stone chipping away, but unfortunately not cracking.

One day, as Shoto was out hunting for dinner, Izuku had finished another distilled serum. He places a bird on a flat stone-like table and pours a small amount of the mixture over it. At first, the liquid simply runs over the hard stone, just like every other failed time. But then, as he turns away to close the jar holding the serum, he hears a tiny noise, and as he looks over his shoulder, tiny cracks begin to spiderweb along the stones surface. His eyes widen, surprised, excited! It was working! Izuku quickly grabs a makeshift wooden crate and places it over the bird, moments before the stone shatters. He couldn’t let it get away, not before Shoto had returned. Through the stick bars, it was clear the bird looked exactly as it should. A bit panicked no doubt, confused from waking up and being stuck in a cage, but it was alive! It was a miracle but being a nerd had finally paid off!

“Todoroki!” Izuku shouts and waves as he sees the man walking back up to their home. “it worked! The latest serum worked!”

“That’s amazing,” Shoto smiles and drops the bundle of small game he’d collected. He walks up to the cage, peering down at the bird. “No side effects?”

Izuku shakes his head. “Seems completely normal.” He lifts the cage and they watch the bird fly away. “See?” Inside he was screaming with excitement. All these years trapped, all the months working towards this moment. “We can really save people Todoroki…” his voice trails out, quiet, pondering as if that was a new emotion. Where once they would risk their lives to protect from harm, now they had the power to bring them back to life. Including his Kaachan.

“We’ll start with the ones we know, so they can help us too,” Shoto places a hand upon his friend’s shoulder, “but first, I’m sure there’s one in particular you’d like to revive.” He smirks, “go, I’ll be working on dinner.” With a last squeeze of his hand, Shoto walks away.

Kaachan…

“But wait!” Izuku turns quickly and calls after his friend. “Momo too needs…”

“Midoriya, we haven’t found her yet. You know where Bakugou is, go and heal him.”

“I promise Todoroki, we’ll find her next!”

“I know.” Shoto smiles and turns back towards the hut.

As he stood there face to face with the man, he held dearest in all the world, his hands were shaking so badly it would be a miracle if Izuku didn’t crush the clay vial he held. That would be a real pity with just the one dose left until they could make more. Draped over his arm, he brought some clothing that should fit Katsuki, a small knapsack of food, and a flask of water.

Fear and doubt creep over him as they did that fateful day so long ago. What if Katsuki rejected what he had to say? With the rest of the world asleep or long dead, there wouldn’t be many options for a long time to find another love. Izuku closes his eyes in resolve, it didn’t matter. He needed to free Katsuki from the stone prison that held him, it was the right thing to do.

He places the belongings on the ground and goes to work freeing his friend from the confines of vines and other vegetation that had collected around the man’s body. ‘You kept him safe,’ he runs his hand along the tree bark, ‘thank you.’

Now the only thing holding Katsuki to the tree was the man’s stone fingers still gripped to the knotty bark. If Izuku tried to move them, he risked breaking them. He’ll just have to leave Katsuki in place and catch the man as he falls, but luckily the distance is only a couple of feet. Here goes nothing! With the help of his blackwhip quirk, the vial is taken and poured over Katsuki. Izuku watches with bated breath as the viscous liquid covers the stone man from head to toe.

Slowly cracks begin appearing, just as they did on the bird, then.

Shatter! Followed by a familiar growl.

On impulse, Izuku had shielded himself from raining stone, but that also meant Katsuki had fallen on his own to the ground. He whips his head back to the tree to see the man already getting to his feet. Izuku blushes hard at the naked adonis and quickly averts his eyes to the sky.

“Somebody better explain what the hell has gone on! I feel like I was stuck in some dark ass void forever!”

“Y-You were, Bakugou. We were frozen for centuries in stone.”

“What!!” He notices the pile of broken rubble around him. “Then how’d I get unfrozen??”

“After breaking through, I figured out how to reverse it. I’m sorry it took me longer to free you! I worked as fast as I could. He-here,” he picks up the clothes and such, handing it to the man, all the while keeping his gaze elsewhere, “right now only you, I, and Shoto are alive.”

“Tch, figures half and half is alive,” Katsuki snatches the clothes from Izuku and starts putting them on. “So now what?”

“W-well, so, the world as we know it is gone. The forest has reclaimed everything. We’ve got a shelter built, created things we need to survive, and have been working on making more of this reverse serum to save others.”

“Oh.” Katsuki tears into a dried piece of meat. “Why is it just the three of us?”

Izuku tenses up and nervously rubs he back of his neck. “Speaking of that, you’re actually the first we’ve used the serum on because…. Before this all happened, do you remember how I had asked you to meet me by the tree?”

“Yeah, so what of it.”

“I have something I’ve been wanting to tell you, well, for a long time, and I just couldn’t do it because I was so scared of how you would react. Then the whole disaster happened, and I thought I’d never get the chance, but now I do. So, I chose you to be the first to be freed so I could even though...”

“Goddamnit nerd! Stop rambling and get it out already!

“I’m in love with you!” Izuku shouts back at the top of his lungs, before choking and his voice dying away into a croak. “Kaachan, I’m in love with you and I’m sure you don’t feel the same way, but I just needed to get it off my chest. If you don’t want to stick around, I’ll…” his shoulders slump with a sigh, “I’ll understand, but you’re welcome to stay with us.”

“Are you done?”

Izuku nods.

Katsuki walks up and grasps Izuku’s chin hard, tilting it up, and forcing the shorter young man to look at him. “I fucking hate you sometimes nerd…” he grins, “but I love your stupid ass more.”

“What?!” This is not the reaction Izuku had expected!

“Just fucking deal with it!” Katsuki kisses Izuku hard and rough on the lips, just like his personality, then swiftly releases the man, who stumbles backwards and barely keeps his footing. “Come on nerd, we ain’t got time to waste tap dancing in the forest.” He grabs Izuku’s hand and starts dragging him towards the closest path he sees. “So, where’s this shack of yours?”

“R-Right!” Izuku falls inline, still flustered but beaming from ear to ear. He had his Kaachan again.

And as they walk back to camp, the young man took stock of their lives. Cut down in the beginning of their pro years and sent backwards to live out life like the Neolithic. It would be a hard life no doubt, without the technology they’d come to rely on to make things easier. But they had each other, and soon others, who together will rebuild the world, one stone at a time.

#bakudeku #secret Santa gift #server event #katsuki bakugou #Midoriya izuku #katsudeku #one shot #bnha #dr stone #crossover #bakudeku fan fic #Bakudeku drabble #bakudeku fanfic

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lovemesomerafael · 4 years

Text

Others Like Me Chapter 14: The Tower

Chapters 1 - 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13

Read It On AO3

“For what it’s worth, he’s genetically identical to our Barnes,” Bruce says. “He doesn’t scar any more than ours does, but there is evidence on the scans that he’s had some of the same injuries as our Barnes. And there’s also evidence that he’s been through something like what he describes with this Hydra.”

“Like what?” Clint asks.

“I haven’t spent much time on the arm itself, that’s Stark, but the way it’s attached? It’s a nightmare. That thing’s gotta hurt every minute. It looks like it’s been worked on, and it’s nice work. But there are some ways he’s healed that are just the best his body could do. It’s clear that it was originally attached very differently, crudely, with a lot of attention to making sure he could feel with the arm and hand, but almost no attention to the way the arm itself would feel to him.”

“Shit,” Natasha hisses.

They’re sitting around the large, oval table in the conference room, with the scans Bruce is describing hovering above the center. Tony has called this meeting to decide what the hell they’re supposed to do with Bucky. Marya is purposely not in the room, although she’s made it abundantly clear that she’s furious about that. Tony ended up having to make her nonattendance a direct order and require her to agree, in the presence of Jarvis, that she would not listen in. Now that they’d discovered her back door to the camera feed from the brig, it was the only way to ensure that she couldn’t sweet-talk or hack Jarvis into helping her again.

“It gets worse,” Bruce continues. “We all know the kinds of injuries Barnes has had. Lotta breaks, lotta organ damage, right?”

“I feel like I get stabbed more than is really fair, too,” Barnes muses.

“Well this guy, his scans make yours look pristine. Even with super healing, his body shows the marks of a hell of a life.”

“What are you saying, Banner?” Tony asks, scowling.

“I’m saying that his scans are telling the same story his mouth is. Everything physical we’ve looked at is consistent. Down to the permanent thickening of his skull where he says that ‘emptying’ machine attached. It looks just like Marya’s, only worse. Much worse.”

“I don’t think Marya needs to know that,” Natasha notes. Sam huffs disgustedly, but stays mute.

Tony lifts his chin from the hand it’s been resting on, two fingers splayed across his cheek in his characteristic ‘listening to things he doesn’t want to hear’ pose. “Anything else?”

“That’s about it.”

“Well, the arm’s interesting,” Tony says. “It’s Stark tech, for the most part, but the materials and some of the features are pure Wakanda. Shuri confirmed it. T’Challa is outraged; he wants to disembowel whoever stole Wakandan secrets.”

Natasha sighs. “T’Challa’s so hot when he talks about disembowelment.”

“You didn’t tell him about Bucky, did you?” Sam asks.

Tony answers with a glare so disdainful only Tony Stark could achieve it.

Clint is squatting on his seat, as he always does, no matter how often Sam tries to explain to him how chairs work. “What about the switch?”

All eyes turn back to Tony, who doesn’t answer for a moment. Instead, he picks up the switch from the table in front of him and looks at it thoughtfully. He’s clearly troubled.

“Tony?” Natasha prods.

“It’s a little different from Marya’s. The design, the way it works, is the same. It’s got a couple of upgrades I approve of. But it’s a little crude. Not as well-made as hers.”

Sam waves a hand toward the switch. “Which is entirely consistent with Bucky having made it himself, using Stark’s design. Just like he said. Look, I’m ready to vote. I believe the guy.”

“Just, slow your roll a minute,” Tony instructs him. “Nat? You’re the human lie detector, what do you think?”

“I got nothin’, Stark. He’s consistent, he’s got no tells… I have absolutely nothing that says he’s lying.”

“But…?” Clint rolls his eyes.

“But this Hydra he says trained him. They sound a lot like the Red Room. I’m consistent and I don’t have any tells, either.”

“Which I keep telling her, is completely circular. She can’t base not believing his story on the story itself. Either you believe it or you don’t.”

“Not true. Legends are much more effective when there’s as much truth to them as possible. This guy was trained by somebody. He’s gotta know we’d spot that. So he builds it into his legend and explains it away.”

Clint makes a disgusted sound.

“Guess we know where you stand, huh, Clint?” Sam asks hopefully.

“I don’t know. What I know is that we’re fucked here. There’s no way to prove or disprove his story, because according to Stark and Banner’s multiverse Theory, there’s a universe where this guy has all the same physical attributes, even though he’s not the Barnes from Marya’s universe. In which case-“

“He comes from right here,” Tony snaps, cutting Clint off. “He’s a spy. Somebody’s trying to infiltrate the Avengers Initiative, and they know about Marya, so they built themselves a Barnes to get to us through her.”

“He’s a genetic duplicate, Tony,” Bruce argues. “Nobody has cloning technology that can-“

Tony scoffs. “Oh, so you’re Team Bucky now?”

“I’m Team Science.”

It goes on like that for quite a while, as lines begin to be drawn between those who believe Bucky is who he says he is – Sam and Bruce – and those who don’t – Natasha and Tony. Clint wavers back and forth. When Tony mentions that, it suddenly becomes clear to everyone that Barnes has said almost nothing throughout the meeting.

“Hey, Cap, you wanna-“

“Told you not to call me that,” Barnes snarls, low and menacing.

“Sorry,” Tony says quickly. “You wanna weigh in here? You got kind of a unique perspective, I’d say.”

“Maybe,” Barnes says quietly. “But I got nothin’ to say right now. I’m listenin’ to all of you, I’m weighin’ the evidence. I’m not ready to vote.”

“This can’t go on forever, Barnes,” Natasha tells him. “He’s a prisoner.”

“Ain’t like we got him in a gulag, Nat. And he said himself he’s willing to be patient.” Barnes looks up at the faces around the table. “We gotta get this right. Because I think we all know that if we decide he’s a threat, we can’t just let him go with a stern warning.”

That silences everyone for a few moments. Some of them exchange troubled glances, others avoid eye contact. Because they all know what Barnes is saying. If Bucky’s a threat, he can’t be allowed to leave the Tower. Not with all that he knows. And their choices narrow down to two very unpleasant options.

Barnes gets up from the table.

“Where are you going?” Tony asks, annoyed.

“I hate meetings. You know that. I’m going to the gym. Think I’ll see if Bucky wants to spar.” Something in his voice, and the look he gives Tony as he says it, is vaguely threatening. Whatever he has in mind, it’s not a simple workout.

“Now, this I gotta see,” Sam smiles.

“No,” Barnes says sharply. “You don’t. Everybody stays the fuck out of the gym until I say different. And Jarvis?”

“Yes, Captain.”

“You broadcast anything from in there and I promise you, I will do shit to your hard drive that’ll make you develop emotions just so you can cry. You feel me?”

“Understood, Captain.”

*****

In the gym, Bucky is standing in front of Barnes, leaning on a rack of hand weights, watching Barnes tape his hands. He’s explained that he tapes his hands because he hates breaking his fingers, which used to happen all the time with Steve. Barnes expects it’ll be the same with Bucky, because Barnes wants a full-on match. Bucky hates broken fingers, too, but it never occurred to him to tape his hands. He considers trying it, but in the end, he doesn’t bother. He’s got other things on his mind.

They’re both uncomfortable, but for very different reasons.

Barnes isn’t at all sure it’s smart to invite a prisoner, a potential spy and a man he knows is dangerous as all hell, to beat the crap out of him if he can. He’s not even sure what he hopes to accomplish. He wonders if this isn’t the biggest mistake he’s made yet as Captain America, and wishes for about the two millionth time today that Steve was here. Steve would advise asking Tony to suit up and stand guard. Barnes is disgusted about twenty-seven ways by the fact that, if Steve were here, he would take that advice and mock Steve the whole time for being a grandma. Because it would be good advice. Barnes is in a world of hurt if Bucky goes off and he has no backup. But he can’t make himself ask Tony to do it. Shit, how much of his badass reputation is built on nothing more than bitching that he didn’t need Steve to protect him, while Steve took the heat and protected him anyway?

Bucky, for his part, is struggling to hide his internal chaos. His fight-or-flight response is so powerful right now, it’s almost painful. He can’t shake the persistent warning sparking through his entire body, screaming that this is a trap. If Barnes was Hydra, it would have been. Bucky knows full well what happens when you raise a hand to your captors. It’s all well and good to crush a minion or two on occasion; Hydra had plenty of those. Hydra brass actually thought it was kind of cute when the Asset did that. But Barnes has authority here. He is not a minion. And if Bucky takes the bait and he’s wrong… He stands glowering at the floor, deep lines etched in his face as he endures a waking nightmare as real as it was when it really happened.

“Hey!” Barnes calls, sharp and loud.

Bucky’s head jerks up and he damn near responds in Russian.

“The fuck did you go?” Barnes asks, genuinely concerned.

But Bucky’s not about to acknowledge the flashback. “I, uh… Nowhere. Tryin’ to figure out what to call you, is all. I ain’t callin’ you Jim.”

“Says the asshole who calls himself Bucky.”

Barnes’ grin is actually a little reassuring. It probably shouldn’t be – God knows Bucky could invent some unspeakable tortures if he had a mind to, which means this guy is just as twisted - but it is.

“Stick with Barnes. It’s what everyone uses, anyway.”

“Fuck you. That’s my name.”

“Listen, you got clear title to Bucky, pal. I ain’t goin’ near that.” He stands up and motions for Bucky to follow him to the middle of the huge mat covering much of the floor of the gym.

“So, this sparring, there any rules?” Bucky asks, trying like hell to seem nonchalant.

“No killing. No destroying the gym, unless you wanna listen to Stark whine. That’s about it.”

Bucky is absolutely not reassured by that, but he doesn’t get the opportunity to spool up any tighter about it, because the next thing he knows, he’s on his ass on the mat. Barnes has swept his legs out from under him and is just beginning to reach for Bucky’s throat when Bucky’s instincts take over.

Bucky expected Barnes to reach for his throat. So before he has a chance to get hold of him, Bucky flips to his feet and takes advantage of Barnes’ position to land a left uppercut that sends Barnes flying at least ten feet backward. Bucky rushes him, which Barnes somehow also expects. Stunned but spinning quickly to avoid him, Barnes gets behind Bucky and uses his momentum to throw Bucky headlong into the padded wall several feet away. In two moves, they’ve covered over thirty feet. Suddenly, the gym seems kind of small.

Bucky springs away from the wall, circling to get himself some room. Barnes circles, too, and the two grin at each other from identical defensive crouches.

“No killing, don’t bust up the gym. Those really the only two rules?” Bucky asks.

“Why, you want to add some? Make sure I don’t shame you too bad?”

“Nope,” Bucky says, grinning evilly. “Just checkin’.” He crosses the distance between them in a blur of speed and grasps Barnes, ready to yeet him into the wall across the room. But Barnes sees it coming and, instead, Bucky’s suddenly on his back with Barnes on top of him, scrambling to get control of his arms. Before he can, Bucky gets a foot under his gut and heaves Barnes six feet in the air and double that backwards. Barnes crashes into the opposite wall, and both of them spring back into their defensive stances.

The next few minutes are a dizzying kaleidoscope of punches and kicks, interspersed with balletic leaps and a steadily increasing level of trash talk. Barnes can already tell that Bucky is the best opponent he’s ever fought. And Bucky now understands that Barnes’s offer to spar had been legitimate. Neither one of them knows when they start laughing, but it’s early in the fight.

There’s a lot of punching, but less than you might think, because they’re just too good at predicting each other’s moves. Kicking’s like that, too, but at least there, they each know a few moves the other doesn’t. Both of them get some good body throws in, especially when the other tries to attack, because that, too, is predictable. The intended victim, anticipating it, can use the motion against the attacker. That quickly becomes a little frustrating. They have essentially the same moves. They have the same instincts. They see each other’s next strike coming too easily. Which is why training and technique give way, and their sparring match devolves into a street brawl.

At some point, Barnes runs Bucky into the rack of hand weights, which goes over in a very loud, very heavy crash. Something’s wrong with Bucky’s left arm after that. It’s also Barnes who throws Bucky into a wall high enough that, as he scrabbles for purchase while he’s falling, Bucky pulls the padding down with him. The custom wooden racks that hold balance balls, yoga mats, foam rolls, jump ropes, and other equipment collapse when Bucky sends Barnes flying into them, face first. That’s also how Barnes’ nose gets broken.

It’s Bucky who picks up the treadmill to use as a shield but, in his defense, Barnes was the one who threw a fifty-pound hand weight at him, and it would’ve hurt if it had hit him. They know that because it totally destroys the treadmill. They’re both responsible for the destruction of the weight bench, which was not meant for two supersoldiers to land on it simultaneously at full force, arms locked around each other’s necks. But they never do agree whose fault it is that Barnes’s metal arm goes through one of the floor-to-ceiling windows, shattering it.

So yeah, they only keep the no-killing rule. By the time Barnes gives Jarvis the all-clear to unlock the doors, Tony’s gym is in ruins. Neither of the combatants had expected every single member of the team to come pouring into the room as soon as the locks released, but that’s only because they didn’t realize that the resounding thuds and crashes of their antics could be felt four floors in either direction.

The team slows, then creeps toward them, gaping at the carnage and peering amongst the debris to determine whether either of them has survived. There’s blood in several places on the fourteen-foot high ceiling, and some of it is in the shape of bodies. There’s wind whistling through the hole in the window, and it’s swaying the few light fixtures that survived, most of which are broken, including the one with a bloody jump rope wrapped around it. The wall padding and the mat on the floor are torn beyond repair, which is fine because those bloodstains aren’t coming out, anyway. The stuffing from inside the mats is everywhere. Tony whimpers as he takes in the devastation.

Bucky’s laid out across the wreck of a machine the whole team uses to do exercises against hydraulic resistance, and Barnes is under what’s left of a rowing machine, somehow tangled up in the plastic scraps of what used to be an exercise ball. They’re both bloody and bruised, each with a few broken bones that they know about. Later, when Bruce insists on full body scans, they’ll discover Barnes also has a cracked femur. They’re sweaty and exhausted, and their identical smiles are gleeful, if bloody, as they gasp for breath.

“This is why we can’t have nice things,” Tony moans.

Both Barnes and Bucky cackle maniacally, before Bucky coughs wetly and groans.

“Bucky,” Bruce says tentatively, like he’s talking to a spooked animal. “That red under you, is that blood, or another burst exercise ball?”

Bucky groans again, before answering thickly, “Prob’ly blood. Don’t tell Barnes, but I got one of these bars through my chest.”

Bruce and Marya rush to him while Barnes begins laughing hysterically. “You got stabbed by that thing? What a pussy!”

“Yeah, you might wanna reserve judgment, there, Captain Oblivious,” Clint drawls, indicating Barnes’s leg.

Barnes looks down to see that one of the oarlocks of the rowing machine has been broken from its mounting and is embedded in the meat of his left thigh. “Dammit!” He shrieks.

Now it’s Bucky laughing hysterically.

Bruce, perhaps a little affected by the depth of Tony’s enraged despair at the state of his gym, is uncharacteristically autocratic about medical care for both Barnes and Bucky. He gives them no options, but orders the rest of the team to help him strap them both to gurneys and haul them to the medical floor.

Over time, Marya’s learned to live with her terror of anything medical, developed as a result of her time as Hydra’s expendable soldier, slave, and experimental subject. One of the ways Bruce has helped her do that is to teach her to assist him. She’s gotten to the point where she doesn’t mind providing medical care, although she still dreads and resists receiving it. When they reach the large trauma room on the medical floor, Bruce begins to bark instructions to her.

Barnes tries to object. “Not happening, Banner. Get Sam to help you. I don’t want Marya in here with him.”

Seeing Marya look to Bruce, Barnes cries, “Don’t look at him. You don’t answer to him, you answer to me.”

“Not in here, she doesn’t,” Bruce says mildly. “Marya, get an IV started, too.”

Barnes argues and threatens for a while, as Bruce and Marya ignore him. Bruce conducts scans while Marya assesses wounds and administers first aid.

“This is insubordination,” Barnes mutters grumpily as she cuts off his shorts to get to the large wound the broken oarlock has made in his thigh.

“I know, Captain,” she coos sympathetically. “You’ll feel better once the morphine starts to work.”

Bucky watches her hungrily. He’s in significant pain, but he’s long ago learned how to ignore that. He waits impatiently while she cleans and bandages Barnes’s leg, wanting her to come back and stand next to him, to touch him again. He’s drowsy from the pain medication Bruce has given him, and unaware of the goofy, dreamy smile on his face as he follows Marya with his eyes.

Barnes sees it, though, and scowls. He only relaxes when Bucky’s eyes drift closed as the morphine takes a hold of him.

“I don’t know if you are my Sergeant, but you are definitely James Barnes,” Marya scolds Bucky as she cuts his shirt from his body, jolting him back to consciousness.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Barnes asks from the other exam table.

“Nothing complimentary,” Marya mutters.

Bucky grins at her. “It’s worth it, getting my ass kicked, to get to see you.”

“So you admit I kicked your ass!” Barnes shouts.

“Shut up and quit moving,” Bruce rebukes him. “You’re blurring my scans.”

Marya’s hands are firm and sure as she begins to clean and examine the stab wound in Bucky’s chest. He likes the practiced way she goes about her work, and the adorable wrinkles between her eyebrows as she concentrates.

“I need something to call you,” she says, glancing up from her work to look into his eyes. “I will not call you Sergeant, so I suppose I’ll have to call you Bucky.”

“But you said-“

“I said that I could not call the Zimniy Soldat Bucky. But I don’t know that you are the Zimniy Soldat.”

“That makes a weird kind of sense.”

“One of us should have some. The two of you clearly don’t.”

Bucky’s grin widens and he feels a bloom of warmth in his chest that has nothing to do with the hole in his flesh and everything to do with the fondly exasperated look she’s giving him.

“This chest wound is going to take a few layers of stitching,” Marya tells Bruce over her shoulder. “I’ll get everything ready for you.”

“Don’t knock me out, though,” Bucky pleads. “If this is the only time they’ll let me see you, I want to be awake.”

“Knock him the hell out,” Barnes growls.

Unfortunately for Bucky, Bruce insists on sedating him as he repairs the stab wound. Although Bucky will heal even without it, this universe’s Bruce is just as stubborn about proper medical care as the one from Bucky’s universe. Which means his time with Marya is cut disappointingly short.

*****

Bruce requires both Barnes and Bucky to remain on the medical floor overnight. Once their injuries are treated and they’re stable, Bruce puts them both in one large room. Since there are six private rooms on the floor, everyone is perfectly aware that making them share is punishment for their reckless stupidity in injuring each other and destroying the gym. Both Barneses realize, too late, that they should have hidden the fact that it had been so much fun.

Tony backs Barnes in requiring that Marya leave the medical floor now that the regular medical staff have arrived. Bucky’s disappointed, but not surprised.

As evening falls, there’s really nothing to do while they heal except talk. The longer the groggy, intermittent conversation goes, the clearer it is to Bucky that something’s changed between them. Barnes is willing to be much more open with him than any of them have been thus far. He would attribute some of that to morphine, except that he knows how good he, himself, is at keeping his mouth shut, even when under the influence of something.

“It’s not getting better. We’re basically putting out fires,” Barnes was saying. “They call themselves the Ten Rings. Run by some shithead calls himself The Mandarin. Slippery fucker. Absolutely ruthless. Nat almost caught up with him once, but he ghosted. Haven’t gotten close since.”

“That sucks.”

Barnes’s face went hard. “Doesn’t matter. Because if it’s the last thing I do, I gotta take them down. Especially that Mandarin motherfucker.” Barnes hisses, “He’s the one who killed Steve.”

Bucky can see that Barnes’s rage is never far below the surface. “What, exactly, happened?”

“Ask someone else, man,” Barnes sighs. “I don’t wanna talk about that.”

“Yeah. I get it.”

There’s a lull then, the air thick with memories as cherished as they are excruciating. After a while, Barnes practically whispers, “We were married, anyone tell you that?”

“Fuck! No.”

“Yeah. Dumbass finally says yes, then he gets himself killed.”

“Shit, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah.”

They go quiet again, the ghost of Steve Rogers palpable between them as they both remember, and ache. It’s a therapeutic, in a way, just sitting here, grieving together the man they’ve both loved since they knew what love was. The man they both still love with a savage, tormented violence. Different though the circumstances were, they can each still fully understand the other’s grief at losing him. They’re not talkers. They don’t want, need, or even know how to speak their sorrow. But as they lie there, lost for the moment in pain, they somehow realize that in this bizarre situation, there’s also absolutely no need. To tell each other how they feel would be redundant.

An hour goes by in total silence. Barnes is the first to break it, and it’s clear his thoughts have returned to the Ten Rings threat. “Thing is, without Steve, we got even less chance than we had before, and we were already fucked. They get bolder every damn time.”

Bucky catches the thread immediately. “Yeah, I noticed there are a lot of terrorist attacks here. Lot more than in my universe.”

“Yeah?”

“By maybe a factor of ten. First thing I saw when I crash-landed here was that blown-out resort in Singapore.”

“Yeah, that was them. The Ten Rings. They wanted to disrupt Singapore’s economy.”

“Seems to have worked, if the exchange rate is any indication.”

“Oh, it worked, all right. Bastards.”

“I wish I could help you. I was jealous as hell when you guys flew off on your mission. Haven’t felt that in a while.”

“What, you lose interest in fighting? After Steve?”

“Lost interest in livin’, pal. Sorry to be so blunt.”

“Nah. Don’t apologize. If I didn’t have those morons upstairs... I wouldn’t have gotten through this last year without them. Didn’t want to. They dragged me back to life, kicking and screaming. I don’t know how you did it without them.”

There was no shred of doubt or pretense in Barnes’s voice, and he was looking at Bucky as he said it. Bucky’s eyes flew open and he turned to Barnes. “You believe me.”

Barnes frowned and hesitated before saying, “I believe that you’re another me somehow. That multiverse thing’s as good a reason as any, I guess. And Stark says it’s theoretically possible. I believe you’re telling the truth about what you’ve been through. Do I believe you’re the me that Marya knew? I don’t know. I just… I don’t know. And that’s the thing. She’s such a part of things here, I can’t take the risk that you’re not. I know what she’s capable of. I know how she feels about her Sergeant, and I also know there’s nothing she won’t do for someone she’s loyal to.”

Bucky grinned. “Not to mention how polite and respectful of authority she is, all the while she’s disobeying your direct orders behind your back.”

“And she’s so fucking sweet about it you can’t stand to discipline her.”

“Even when she tells you to your face she’d do it again.”

Barnes and Bucky shake their heads, identical fond smiles on their faces as they roll their eyes in unison.

“That’s one of the reasons Stark leads the team, you know. Some people think that role should go with the shield. I don’t. It should go to the one most capable, and Stark’s been here since the beginning. That’s the main reason, but… Not gonna lie, Marya’s another. He can say no to her, enforce consequences when she steps out of line. Me, I just …” Barnes huffs a laugh and shrugs helplessly.

And that’s when Bucky realizes that Barnes is in love with Marya.

#The Avengers #Captain America #The Winter Soldier #Bucky Barnes #Sam Wilson #Clint Barton #Bruce Banner #Natasha Romanoff #Tony Stark #Sebastian Stan

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feverwritingandtextposts · 4 years

Link

Summary:

All the cool monsters make it to the front page of City S Newspaper. And Garou's going to join them, even if he has to kidnap a reporter to do it.

Look man I saw this funny AU post and i HAD to write this i was possessed.

As usual you can follow the link to read it or read it under the cut below.

"And so that's why i skipped the math class in my 7th grade- hey. Hey. Are you listening?"

Badd turned his head up to the voice, groggy and tired. He gave a non-committal grunt in response. The man clucked his tongue in annoyance.

"Hm. You're not writing anything down so-"

Badd raised an eyebrow at that, glaring down the man in front of him. Tall, imposing, with the most hideous hairstyle Badd's ever seen, the man loomed overhead, paused in his pacing to stare down at him.

"How the fuck am i supposed to write anything when my FUCKING HANDS ARE TIED?" Badd bellowed, fully sick and tired of this nonsense.

Personally, Badd had no clue why this bastard chose to kidnap him out of all the reporters out there. He's just self aware enough to know that he's not exactly the easiest person to get along with in general. If this dude really wanted the world to 'understand his monster aesthetic and goals through the newspaper' he'd probably get better cooperation from some mousy bumbling reporter that he can, actually, successfully intimidate.

Maybe Badd looked like an easy target because he'd been passed out after drinking with a interviewee. In his defense, the office promised to pay, and Badd was never one to turn down some day drinking.

Damn, what even happened to that guy... Did this fucker kill him when Badd got kidnapped?

The man, Garou or Gatou or Geko something like that, narrowed his eyes at him. It looked like he'd wanted to seem contemptuous and intimidating, but Badd thought it made him just look pouty, like an ill tempered child.

That dude's probably fine.

"You could've just said so then," the man snapped, reaching over.

Badd jerked back from him, the movement teethering him dangerously on the flimsy chair he was tied against.

"Ey ey, hands off bastard. This coat's Gucci and i dunno where your damn hands have been," Badd hissed.

Clearly offended, the man drew back, lips pulling back to show a sharp array of teeth. "I wash my hands you little shit."

"That's what all the crooks say."

The man looked stunned for a moment, face still stuck in that half angry half incredulous grimace, as if shocked that Badd was just being so deliberately uncooperative, when he'd gone to all this trouble of holding him hostage. Held aloft in front of him, the man's hands balled up into fists.

Briefly, Badd wondered if he was finally going to get punched.

Badd was kinda looking forward to it. Its been a while since he got punched anyway.

But instead, the man seemed to reign himself in, folding his arms and drawing up to his fullest height, lips drawn in a sneer.

"Your coat's ugly anyway. Gucci? You wasted your money on that crap."

Wow really? He's really gonna get his fashion sense roasted by a man in ratty joggers and old people slippers.

"Fuck you," Badd snarled venomously.

Gatou (no Gakou.. Garou?) raised an eyebrow, seemingly unconcerned.

"Are you mad? Over that?"

Badd struggled against his bindings, the chair screeching against the concrete as he moved.

"Seriously?"asked the man. "You weren't even that mad when you woke up tied to the chair."

Badd paused in his attempts to rip off the thick ropes to shoot the man a scathing look.

"Like hell I'm gonna listen to you insult MY coat when you're in those disgusting pants."

Now looking absolutely confused, the taller man looked down at his faded grey joggers.

"What's wrong with my pants? They're great for movement and kicking." As if to demonstrate that point, or intimidate Badd, he started kicking the air, each kick higher than before, the shock-wave blowing wind and dust into Badd's face.

Man, Badd hated guys like him. Just because they're hot they think they can care fuck all about fashion and still look good.

In this guy's case he'd be right but Badd's never gonna admit that.

Badd was about to tell him exactly where he could stick his ugly pants before the man slammed his foot down, loud and annoying.

"Wait, forget that, I still need you to continue writing that article. Where did I stop?"

Damnit, Badd was hoping he'd have forgotten that by now.

The man propped his chin against his fist, deep in thought.

Maybe if Badd was lucky he'd realise he'd told Badd every fucking insignificant detail about his (admittedly kinda sad) life story and let him go.

The man slammed his fist into his open palm in realisation. "I can't remember, so lets just take it from the start again!"

This man was going to give him a fucking aneurysm.

"What the HELL man! C'mon dude lay off it," Badd whined, writhing on the chair in annoyance.

"Maybe I'll be done faster if your sorry ass doesn't keep INTERRUPTING me," Garou snarled back, resuming his pacing as he prepared to re-recount his shitty life story.

The afternoon light that streamed through the high broken windows was starting to dim, casting long shadows across the abandoned warehouse they were in. The day was beginning to end. Zenko's going to be out of cram school soon, and she'd be waiting for him to pick her up.

It was starting to get colder too, Badd could see the puffs of air coming from his breath. Did Zenko bring her scarf?

"Hey man aren't you done yet? I gotta go soon, I need to pick my lil sis up," Badd called out to the slouching man, who had skulked a way off ahead, ranting about why elementary school kids have the propensity for cruelty.

Pausing in his tirade, he stalked back over.

"Fuck are you talking about? You're literally tied to a chair."

"Yeah I KNOW. That's why I'm asking if you're done, I need to go pick my sis up."

Shaggy white hair bouncing, Garou shook his head firmly. "What, no you can't just leave. I KIDNAPPED you."

"Yeah, I noticed. And how long are you gonna keep me here then? The fucking sun's already going down."

"Its only been three and a half hours," protested Garou, his thin face settling into its permanent scowl. "How are you going to write a good article about me if you don't know my entire backstory?"

Badd groaned loudly, head tilting back in exasperation. In front of him, the man didn't move, sharp golden eyes boring into Badd.

"If you be a good boy and listen, this will go by a lot faster, and you can be out to write that article and pick up your sister or whatever. Or, I could keep you here with me for much MUCH longer."

"Ugh..." Badd rolled his eyes at the obvious warning to behave. Really, did he LOOK like the type to just buckle down and keep quiet? After realising that Garou was still standing there, eyes alert and anticipating a response, he gave a resigned sigh.

"ALRIGHT, fucking hell, FINE," snapped Badd, a little too loudly, but the bastard smiled at that, lips pulling into a smarmy smirk that would have been ridiculously hot if Badd wasn't so ready punch him.

He really hoped Zenko brought her scarf. This was gonna take a while.

Luckily for the both of them, Badd was an expert in the sacred art of pretending to pay attention. Eyes glassy, he watched the man pace up and down, ever so often making a grunt or hum of agreement to whatever was being said.

Those pants Garou was wearing really DO look great for movement. They clung perfectly to that tight ass. Speaking of, now that Badd really got a look at him, this guy was toned to hell. He mentioned being 'the world's best martial artist' or something, but damn. That turtleneck he was wearing looked like it was on its last breath of life clinging to those muscles. Dude's lucky he's nice to look at because Badd'll be bored to death otherwise.

Night had fully fallen by the time the white haired man decided to pause for breath.

Badd hasn't been in the reporting biz long enough to be considered an expert, but he doubts that he really needed THAT much info from the guy to write an article on him. Usually, articles about villains are pretty short anyway.

Stuff like "Wanted: this bastard! Contact the Association if you have information" or "See this man? Better mind your own business and find somewhere to hide!". Short, sweet, to the point. Just what criminal warning articles are supposed to be. Where the hell was his supposed to insert the entire part about this loser getting beat up in elementary school? Badd's not a damn literary expert. He only got the job because of how hardy he was, and how dangerous journalist jobs can end up.

Maybe he can ask one of the interns to help him write it...

"Do you have all of that?" asked Garou (Badd's sure now, the fucker talked about himself as 'Garou the Human Monster' at least 11 times).

Badd nodded quickly, hoping to god that he was done talking about himself. Garou, perhaps having believed Badd's performance, perhaps simply needing a space to talk about... all that... seemed absurdly happy.

"Okay! You better write a good article!" Garou ordered, exuberant smile lighting up his usually swarthy face, making it look kinder and sweeter. Like how he might have been if he hadn't been weighed down by all that spite.

Huh, Badd thought, he was actually kinda cute.

"Right, don't move."

Never mind, scratch that.

Badd last remembers a throbbing pain on the back of his neck, as if someone had smacked him, and wakes up alone at a bus stop.

"Human Monster Gatou on the loose," read out Taero, swinging his legs on the park bench. Beside him, the white haired man peeled an eye open from where he sat slouched back on the bench, head propped up on the back.

"Whazzat? Kid, you're old enough to read properly right? Pronounce people's names right."

"Huh, but Uncle, that's what it says." Reaching over, Taero pushes the newspaper right into Garou's face for him to read it himself.

Golden eyes scanning the headline, Taero barely had time to sit back down before Garou shot up from the bench, snatching the newspaper out of his hand in the process. Wordlessly Garou stood there, newspaper crumpled in his grip, eyes boring into the page.

Taero knew that this Uncle was pretty prone to sudden and confusing mood shifts, but even for him this was kinda weird.

"It's pretty scary isn't Uncle? We should be careful," Taero says tentatively, peering at him from the safety of the bench.

"That's right. Real scary," muttered Garou, face absolutely murderous.

He can't believe that fucking reporter spelled his name wrong.

He's gonna kill him.

#opm #batarou #metal bat #garou #i love garou i really do but i also remember that he can be the world's best martial artist AND a stupid bitch #and i just think thats neat #sorry its not another kny fic guys................

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marvelousbirthdays · 5 years

Text

Happy Birthday, loriemitchell

September 10-Rumlow/Bucky soulmate AU fic for @loriemitchell

Written by @lj-todd

Brock had been born with the words etched across the back of his hand in a scratchy, shaky script that had not been English.

“Ya gotov otvechat.” He was nearly twenty-three, fresh out of basic training, before he finally learned what the words meant. He’d been stationed at a base in England when a British soldier, Russian born but raised in London, had, after questioning whether Brock had met his soulmate, told him what the words meant. “Ready to comply.” Brock had assumed it meant his soulmate would be a soldier. Someone under his command. And, clearly, they would be Russian. So, despite languages never really being his thing, he learned Russian. It would be years more before he would actually meet the person who would give voice to the words. It would be long after he had chosen HYDRA, seen the wisdom in its whispers, in its promise of order and unity and world salvation. So long after that he had given up hope of ever meeting his soulmate. Long enough he had taken to wearing gloves nearly all the time, hiding the words, pretending they did not exist so that the pain, the sting, of being alone might somehow be lessened. So when he finally met his soulmate he was torn between shock, relief and horror. He had spoken ten words. All simple. All in Russian. Ten words to take full control of HYDRA’s greatest, and oldest, weapon. The Winter Soldier. Responsible for helping create HYDRA as it now was. Ten words that stripped away all traces of humanity and left nothing but the perfect weapon. Ten words that were responded by a cold, emotionless, robotic response. “Ya gotov otvechat.” He swore his hand had burned and it had taken all his self control not to visibly react or say anything. He had continued on as though nothing had changed all while his emotions swirled like a hurricane, tightening his chest and shortening his breathing, heart racing wildly. It hadn’t taken much to learn who his soulmate was. Who he truly was or what had been done to him all in the name of a better world. And Brock had been unable able to leave his soulmate in the hell he’d been trapped in for nearly seventy years. So, he worked out a plan, a way to get them both out, to get Bucky out. He didn’t even care if the other man wanted nothing to do with him after. He just couldn’t live with himself if he didn’t do something to save the other man. Unfortunately his carefully laid plan was blown apart by Steve freaking Rogers. Everything blew up. HYDRA. His plan to save Bucky. His life. Hell, he had a building dropped on him, and then Bucky disappeared into the wind. Brock, injured and weak, had not exactly wasted time escaping the hospital and the guards placed to keep him there. He had tried to track Bucky down but the other man had gone to ground so well that not even the great and mighty Captain America could find him. It tore at a piece of Brock’s soul, whatever was left of it, but he decided that maybe it was for the best. He wasn’t really worthy of Bucky. All the things he’d done. The people he’d willingly killed. Hell, he’d been a willing and proud part of the system that had kept his soulmate prisoner and used him like a machine rather than a man. And then everything had gone to hell in a hand basket. Thanos had struck. Wiping out half the universe’s population with a snap of his fingers. The Avengers, broken and scattered, had been unable to stop him. Brock wouldn’t have cared, he was too busy working as a mercenary in what remained of Sokovia, but then the names of the lost began to trickle through news channels and he heard a name that made his heart drop and ice fill his scarred being. James Barnes. He went on a drinking binge for four days, unable to hand the emotions he was feeling, but, after the worst hangover he’d experienced in years, he made a decision. He left Sokovia and traveled the world, cutting down criminals and what was left of HYDRA scum along the way. Trying to do some small amount of good in what was left of the world. Five years. Five years of death and mayhem in the name of a man who would hate him for it all. Who would hate him for not being the one to save him. And then, in a bar in Bucharest, nearly six years after the snap, six years of blood in the name of a soulmate who had never really been his, Brock received a shock nearly as powerful as the one he’d had upon learning who his soulmate was. He was sitting in a dark corner, nursing some crappy beer, when someone pulled the chair out from across the table, which he assumed they wanted for another table, only to be surprised when they sat down rather than just leave. He lifted his head to snap at them, to tell them to get lost, only to have the words stick in his throat at the sight before him. “Bucky,” he croaked, still unable to believe what he was seeing, and those bright eyes flickered uncertainly for a moment, before a half grin graced that handsome face. “Brock.” Brock blinked a few times, certain he was hallucinating, or dreaming, but Bucky was still there. Maybe he was just going crazy. Because the Bucky before him looked so different than the one he had last seen that morning at the Triskelion. Dressed well, hair washed and tied back, the dark beard neatly trimmed down. Bucky looked like a person. And it made Brock’s heart swell to see it and broke it to know he hadn’t been able to help make it happen. “You here to kill me, kid?” “Do you think I should?” Brock shrugged, pushing his beer away, knowing if Bucky wanted to kill him then and there nothing and no one could stop him. He’d seen Bucky fight. He’d seen him go toe-to-toe with Rogers and all but beat the crap out of the legendary Captain America. And that had been without the trigger words unleashing the beast. He knew he wouldn’t stand a chance. “Wouldn’t blame you if you did,” Brock admitted quietly. “Gotta admit, I’m a bit surprised to see you.” He grinned slightly, his scars making it look more like a grimace. “Guessing Rogers and his pals managed to fix whatever that purple grape-nut did.” Bucky gave a faint nod, hand, the right one, the flesh and bone one, clenching slightly on the tabletop and, worried what that meant, Brock quickly spoke again. “You look good.” Shit, had that just really come out of his mouth? Like he had any right to say it? To notice it? “I’m glad Rogers’ has been taking care of you.” “All he did was get me to some folks who knew what the hell they were doing.” “Still did more than I was able to.” Brock winced. Shit. Why couldn’t he just keep his mouth shut? What was wrong with him? Bucky studied him for a moment, looking for God knew what, before giving him a gentle look. “I remember, you know,” he finally said after a moment of tense, awkward silence. “What you told me that morning.” Brock swore his heart jumped up into his throat. “You…What?” “You told me you were going to get me out. That you had a plan. That I wouldn’t be their weapon anymore. I’d be free. We’d be free.” Brock’s heart began to hammer so hard against his ribs. “Part of me wonders what might have happened if Steve hadn’t come charging in like he always does,” Bucky continued. “I wonder if you’d have actually succeeded in getting us out. I wonder what would have become of us. I wonder if…” “You deserve better than me,” Brock cut in sharply, hand starting to tremble, his soulmark burning beneath the glove he wore. “You always have.” Bucky blinked and studied Brock for a moment before reaching across the table, catching his hand, feeling Brock tense but the scarred man did not pull away. “Say them,” Bucky said softly and Brock tensed further, half tempted to try and bolt. “Say the words.” “I don’t think that’s…” “Say. Them.” Brock watched how Bucky’s eyes danced in the bar’s dim lights. How calm and centered and certain the other man was and, though he was reluctant to do it, he drew a deep breath, closed his eyes, and voiced ten words he had sworn never to utter again. “Zhelaniye. Rzhavyy. Semnadtsat’. Rassvet. Pech’. Devyat’. Dobroserdechnyy. Vozvrashcheniye na rodinu. Odin. Gruzovoy vagon.” He felt Bucky squeeze his hand but heard no cries of pain or resistance and he opened his eyes just as the other man spoke softly. “Ya gotov otvechat.” Brock blinked and Bucky smiled. “I told you,” Bucky said. “Had some help. Fixed up my brain. Still got nightmares but I suspect you got ‘em too, yeah?” Brock nodded, still uncertain but suddenly hopeful in a way he hadn’t been in decades. “I know you’ve done some bad shit,” Bucky continued, still holding Brock’s hand, thumb brushing over the back as though sensing that’s where Brock’s soulmark was. “Seen the reports, talked to Barton a bit, and I don’t care.” Brock jerked slightly and Bucky tightened his hold on his hand. “My hands aren’t clean,” Bucky pressed. “They never will be again. No matter how much good I do. But sometimes what matters most is that we try to do better. To be better.” Brock shook his head. “Don’t know how to be better,” he murmured. “I just…all I know is violence and death. I don’t know who I am without it.” “You’re my soulmate,” was Bucky’s simple reply. “Just like I’m yours. The rest is just whatever.” “Barnes…” “Bucky. You call me Bucky.” Brock blinked, feeling the tears gathering at the corner of his eyes, glancing away briefly, before meeting that calm blue gaze again. “Bucky,” he whispered the name, clutching at Bucky’s hand, a lifeline for a drowning man, and a smile spread, slow and warm, across his soulmate’s face. “Brock,” was the whispered reply and, for a moment, it was like the stars had aligned and nothing else mattered but them.

#Rumlow/Bucky #Brock Rumlow #Bucky Barnes #soulmate au

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geejaysmith · 5 years

Text

Wolf 359: A running list of things I have a heightened appreciation on second listen, pt. 2

Part one here.

SEASON 3:

Pan-Pan: Still a little miffed they didn't explicitly do the "we have to huddle to conserve body heat" trope. Yes, it's corny, but also shut up, let my touch-starved space disasters cuddle.

So Eiffel stopped Hera and Minkowski arguing in season 1 to address an emergency, and now with Eiffel absent, the team starts arguing again. The fact he doesn't exactly have much Pride In His Own Self-Sufficiency to get in the way of "hey! Guys! Remember, imminent death? More important priorities happening?" tends to defuse situations like this aaaaaand now he's absent.

"Cutter will send a squad of psychos to come up here and kill us faster!" ...she's not wrong.

"Pick a corner and relax! Hop to it!" I just like this line delivery.

"The entire station is a SPACE YUKON and this thing is overheating!" I know, it's like it's symbolic or something.

Episode 29: "we all feel responsible for losing Eiffel and are lashing out because we're scared and sad and grieving and fear getting backlash while we're vulnerable if we admit we need help, and we don't know what to do but keep going because the alternative is breaking down and possibly never getting back up again." Alternatively: "It's Metaphors All the Way Down."

Mayday: Eiffel's frustrated screaming.

Brain Ghost Minkowski showing up like "Yeah, we know I'm a hallucination, or Weird Alien Shit, or maybe just a clever metaphor representing the abstract process of thought, but who gives a crap, this is more interesting than listening to you talk to yourself for an entire episode."

BGM: Hi, I'm your thought processes externalized using a face and personality that you subconsciously think you need to hear from in this situation, possibly because you think so little of yourself you need to hear it from somebody else first. Eiffel: Oh hey cool, this is just like this one web comic I kept up with sometimes back on Earth- BGM: Not another word.

Eiffel getting slapped by Brain Ghost Lovelace, who is a projection of his thoughts.

What is that whispering in his head that reminds him of the Hermes' name supposed to be anyway? Score one for my Weird Alien Brain Shit theory. Having Lovelace's alien juice in your system comes with such fun side effects.

"I dunno, I only know what you know." "Shut up, don't go meta on me." / "Hilbert wouldn't know that word! He's never even heard of Empire!" Yeah, toldja: it's Brain Ghosts.

Brain Ghost Hilbert may represent the realist in Eiffel and the brutal, calculating reality he doesn't want to confront, but Brain Ghosts Minkowski and Lovelace are his cooler head and ingenuity, working him through staying calm and devising a way to survive, and Brain Ghost Hera, who appears when Hilbert tells him it's hopeless, telling him that against all the odds he will be okay, is his stubborn determination to never, ever quit. They're all his determination to live when Doug might want to just stop trying. They're the better parts of himself, reflected in the voices of his friends.

And Hilbert. But I digress- HOLY FUCK, I just realized the brilliance in the one-two punch of the Brain Ghost Brigade contrasted with the previous episode's Stress Fracture Argue Crew, it's The Sound And The Fury all over again.

Paging the Wolf 359 incorrect quote blogs: "Save my friends! And Zoidberg Hilbert!"

Sécurité thru Don’t Poke the Bear: Maxwell! I've missed you! (':

"And I build pretty awesome battle drones on the weekends." ...Does Maxwell have her own souped-up version of one Jamie Hyneman's Blendo?

Eiffel, realizing he's starting to sound like Minkowski: My god, what have I become.

Eiffel mumbling to himself in general. "This is hell and I'm in it."

Is it just me or is Kepler's pig story not as agonizingly drawn out to listen to the second time around?

A Matter of Perspective: Funzo: 12 different board games, three of them TCGs and maybe at least one TTRPG, all tossed in a blender, because Pryce and Cutter are psychopaths.

The Funzo manual is the size of the actual Bible and don't try to convince me otherwise.

How into the game the girls all get.

Headcanon: Minkowski and Lovelace are both the types to get stupidly competitive over any kind of game regardless of their initial level of investment.

Eiffel keeps a photo of (it's implied) him and his daughter taped to the underside of his console...

"He looks so... happy." shUT UP

"I had no idea Eiffel had a-" daughter. Was it "daughter" you were going to say Minkowski. Well, no one else knew you were married til you brought it up, so turnabout's fair play.

"You think you know me? You know the artist formerly known as Warren Kepler, you've met my job. Aside from that, there's no one left for you to know." In light of the series finale, I, uh... I don't if I like this, Scoob. Also, stop reminding me all these people are human persons underneath all the desensitization to horror and violence.

"Happy birthday, Eiffel." They remembered! Hope this one is less traumatizing than the last, Doug.

"Happy Kwanzaa!" "Lovelace."

"Long Story Short, that's the last time I saw Maxwell's feet" wh. What. What happened involving Maxwell's feet. What's. why-

And to make a long story short, that's where my "Maxwell has hands for feet" headcanon came from.

Need to Know: Minkowski's dreams, apparently, include both creating musicals and commanding a deep space mission. She's gotten the latter way the hell off the bucket list, somebody with actual songwriting skills want to get in and write the former with me?

Lovelace overindulging on painkillers for her broken arm after losing Officer Fisher... "It was a difficult time." ):

Aaaand serious implications of the above are immediately headed off by Lovelace quacking aggressively at Jacobi.

Fire and Brimstone: where is my fanfiction about Lovelace overseeing Minkowski during her solitary confinement?

The Backstory Episodes: Zach Valenti wrote all the backstory episodes! I just find that kind of sweet.

Once in a Lifetime: Small detail I only noticed on my second listen, after a fanfic put the thought in my head: Minkowski's parents are only referred to in the past tense. Oof.

"Thank you for coming in on such short notice. We had a hiccup in staffing for this upcoming quarter." So... according to the wiki's timeline, the launch for the second Hephaestus mission was some time in late March 2013. The beginning of this episode (and Eiffel's) states it takes place in 2013, with 3 months of training, meaning they were probably brought on board in January and the whole thing moved *ridiculously* fast. Everything points to them wanting to get people up in space as quickly and with as little fuss as possible, giving the newcomers no time to think it over or do additional research. Once they start the training program, they're probably too busy to look further into Goddard's deep space missions, and are likely in an environment where Goddard Futuristics can cut them off from other information sources. The people they select are relatively isolated (Minkowski and her husband being an exception) - the easier to make them disappear. Even Lovelace has been stationed at "a lot of very isolated, very quiet outposts", the implication being her superiors wanted her somewhere out of the way. Kind of makes me wonder about the rest of the Hephaestus 1.0 crew...

Greensboro: Nice ominous foreshadowing you've got there vis a vis Captain Lovelace and "are you an alien?"

Decommissioned: "We're not about to force anyone to do something they don't want to do!" ...Marcus Cutter deserves to have his trousers ablaze constantly.

All Things Considered is still a bit confusing (because I somehow keep listening to it while doing something else) and I'll need another listen to figure out what probably actually happened, but it is also hilarious.

"Eiffel had engaged the machine, but that's why I build in extra safeguards. My mistake, clearly, was to assume that would be enough to stop the slapstick routine."

“All Things Considered”: Did you have fun with this over-the-top romp of hilarity and and hijinks, dear audience? Good! Because that was us burning off our comedy quota for the rest of the season. Get ready for six whole episodes of nonstop emotional gut-punches!

MEMORIA.

Just... Memoria.

Putting this quote here because of Reasons: "Three years... Three and a half years... I've had this thing in my head breaking me, and making me think it was all my fault, that there was something wrong with *me!*"

So Memoria is still one of the best episodes and the last five minutes fuck me up in a special little way.

Time to Kill: "Or the one outside is the real Jacobi... and the alien is already in here with us." The funny thing, Maxwell, is that you were half-right and didn't even realize it, and you *were* just speaking to Lovelace.

So... do alien duplicates only get reloaded from the singular "snapshot" of the person, or does getting flare-scanned once give them a continually updated source of info? What I'm getting at is: if another Jacobi shows up post-finale, would he need to be filled in on events between his horrible, terrible death and the present?

Persuasion: Maxwell switching to First Name Basis to get Jacobi to be honest with her.

I always forget until the scene after that Hilbert is totally setting up the Space Telephone to manipulate her, but of all the ways he could've gotten Minkowski around to "we are disposable and need to act *now* before these people decide they're done with us", it still kinda touching that this is the method he chose.

Desperate Times/Desperate Measures are just a blur of "oh god oh god oh god" and it's just as nailbiting the second time around. One thing I love about this podcast is how comfortable it is with (for its medium) long stretches of silence, which can feel a LOT longer when you have no other forms of feedback except dialogue to know the first gunshot was just a warning.

So you really *do* feel Minkowski breaking out into laughter when Eiffel tries to invoke Air Force code is a release of the tension that's been building for multiple episodes. Like he's finally gotten through to them just how far this has all gone and how much further it could still go. I keep saying this: when the situation starts to threaten violence, he's got an amazing gift for keeping the rest of the crew in touch with their common humanity when the rest get far too used to a world that runs on self-interest and subterfuge. Hell, he even gets Hilbert and *Kepler* opening up over the course of the story (presuming Kepler is being honest when he talks about being a shell of himself, but even though he was trying to manipulate Eiffel, that doesn't exclude there being a kernel of truth in those words).

Speaking of Kepler: he's definitely riding the adrenaline high of the situation and it turns him into a monster with a manic streak. It makes Jacobi's and Maxwell's relative calm all the eerier by contrast. Those two really do make you forget that all of this is... pretty horribly routine for them.

Until they meet their match, that is, when the women of the Hephaestus refuse to stand down, and each of them is unspeakably badass in their own way. What Kepler didn't account for is that they're ready and willing to die together rather than sacrifice one another for their own survival.

Although again, the irony of the situation is that just dropping the station into the star could have let them avoid, /gestures at season 4. BUT I'm not gonna rain on the Badass parade here.

Bolero, aka "The podcast kicking me in the feelings while I'm down."

The way Minkowski orders everyone else out of the room before Brain Ghost Lovelace conversates with her. ...did she pop up in the middle of that conversation, I wonder? And all this when psi-wave radiation is spiking, apparently. Coincidence?

Oh come on Hera, war is no reason to end a friendship- Look, I came here from Metal Gear. I see folks dunking on Hilbert and I'm just over here like "he's still not as revolting as Huey Emmerich."

Listen I've seen enough of Warren Kepler and Marcus Cutter in this fandom to know y'all aren't above liking a bad guy, you just prefer the ones who're having fun with it.

"You're gonna come to my funeral! And you're gonna like it! ...I mean you're gonna feel really sad! And cry! And stuff! GOT IT??" Ah, good ol' Eiffel.

THE COMPUTER ALSO HAS BRAIN GHOSTS

"If I'm not your doctor, then what are we?" "We're... complicated?" Listen, Eiffel, if you're not careful, I'm going to start shipping you and Hilbert ironically For The Lulz, and we all know where shipping things ironically always leads.

Errybody gets brain ghosts this episode. Again: I accept that this is a device that's more interesting than an alternative method of expressing these same ideas, but the ambiguity of a Watsonian explanation (is it all in their heads? Do they really see an apparition of some kind?) lets me do my Weird. Look, I once wrote in a joke in a fic about Death from Discworld complimenting a Quirky Miniboss Squad member from Metal Gear Solid 3 on his taste in interior decorating arena design, and that spawned entire subplots in projects for two different fandoms, and eventually roped in a third fandom to elaborate further on their now-intertwined cosmology. Do not underestimate how much I can give myself to work with.

The last ten minutes of Bolero also fuck me up in a special way, partly because We Are Dealing With the Hard and Unavoidable Fact of Death but also the aliens are about to throw a curve ball that'll... alter that last part a little.

Like, words cannot describe the "Dead Man's Curve in the wet" hard right turn of going from being in mourning for several beloved characters (including my favorite) to SURPRISE, SHE'S BACK! I love it.

I'd have to check the scripts to be sure exactly because some words got lost in Lovelace's respiratory spasms but I do like to imagine the her head wound closing up in front of a horrified Eiffel and Minkowski, with a side order of glow-y shit. I've drawn too many Homestuck god tier revivals I guess.

Update: I DID check the recording script's stage directions to see just how disgustingly physical the whole event is and okay, so no weird glowing shit (I reserve my right to depict it that way anyway) but I'm delighted to report that the gross anatomical-ness I was picturing? It's worse! It is so much worse!

The goddamn AGONY that is the Special Episode being TWO HOURS LONG when it comes right after the BIGGEST CLIFFHANGER IN THE SERIES.

You have NO IDEA WHAT KIND OF TEMPTATION IT WAS TO SKIP THIS AND COME BACK TO IT LATER

LOVELACE 1.0 I LOVE YOU BUT ALSO I WANNA TO SEE WHAT'S HAPPENING TO FUTURE-YOU RIGHT NOW

Change of Mind: love the framing device placing this episode as within Lovelace's mind during her successful cranial reconstruction saving throw.

"Buncha nerds, gonna crash my-"

Just how familiar she is in this place, with these people... Hera was installed in her sister's grave (as another post put it), but Lovelace lives in the gutted cadaver of her home.

Zach Valenti's Lambert voice *does* sound like a bad Minkowski impression.

"I have a physicist to put the fear of *me* into." That's my girl. She kind of was more of an ass pre-Total Party Kill, though? Like come on, Isabel, how necessary *is* all this arguing with Lambert?

Fourier's voice is very nice, also. Very soft, very easy on the ears.

I'm now appreciating how it sounds like Fisher is the older and calmer mediator among the crew.

Also the image of Isabel just floating out in space and listening to some chill tunes is sooooo good.

Hey Doc, did it turn out Fisher was too perceptive to live. Was getting caught outside in that meteor shower really an accident. Hey. Hey Hilbert. Answer me.

Also goddamnit, has EVERY character in this series has read Harry Potter?

Did the Fishers always differentiate each other by audio channel? I had to rewind the scene when I realized Lovelace's questions in my right ear weren't getting an answer.

"Say you're a big pink elephant!"

*gunshot* *gross biological dissolving noises* WHY

"Just because somebody made you something doesn't mean that's all you're going to be - you can be more!" I wrote this line down prior to the end of the episode's confirmation that it's a Big Thematic Point.

Aaaand we're back to the framing device, and with that, season 3 wraps. Or maybe season 4 kicks off? Either way, hell of a way to kick it off.

Cecilia Lynn-Jacobs had a hand in writing this episode? Aw... that's sweet...

So, yeah, headcanon: Alien resurrection does the weird glowy thing to close any obviously fatal maladies, then the gross biological viscera part kicks in, hence Lovelace sounding like she's trying to hack up her lungs as soon as she starts using them again.

Listen, sometimes the gross biological viscera parts are my favorite parts, okay? Okay.

#wolf 359 #wolf 359 spoilers #long post #i underestimated how detailed these posts would get as the plot ramped up lmao

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