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squishneedsahero · 3 years

Text

Shattered

Broken Things to Mend

Part 1 of 1

Word Count: 5998

A soulmate au where you have the first sentence your soulmate will say to you tattooed on your body in their handwriting.

TW: Abuse, neglect and starvation mentions (I’m sure theres more pls let me know if I need to add anything)

You were roughly thrown into a cell and the door shut behind you with a snap, exhausted you fall to your knees and stay on the floor rather than trying to fight your way back out. You were tired, so, so tired. Your body ached, cuts and bruises littered every inch of your skin, mere hours ago you had felt invincible but now you were nothing but broken. You collapsed to your knees and cried on the floor wondering how you had fallen so far.

Here you were locked in a cell on Asgard, and here was where you were going to stay until the humans had something properly set up to contain you. Why you had tried to take over that planet you weren't quite sure, tired of feeling weak had lead you down a dark path. A path from which you couldn't return, and had been regretting as you walked down it. But you couldn't stop yourself and now it was too late.

Broken was the only way to describe yourself, you had been broken for millennia and had finally thought you could piece yourself back together when you'd found the infinity stone. The power stone. You'd thought yourself strong enough to use its power, to stop those who had hurt you and others who wanted to hurt innocents in their paths. You had soon found you weren't strong enough, you were alone and it had corrupted your mind, having no one to anchor you to reality. That's when he had shown up. The purple Titan set on reforming the universe, making it a better place, and in your broken state of mind his plan had made sense, you had agreed to help him, to take out the biggest threat in his way.

You had failed, you had lost to that group called the Avengers and soon enough Thanos would be coming after you himself to remove any loose ends. You weren't the first he had sent but you were most likely the last he'd send on their own without him to lead them directly. He'd only kept you because you were able to hold the power stone in your hands and not be destroyed, someone broken who he could control who could keep the stone safe until he was able to wield it himself.

As soon as he'd seen you failing to take earth he had taken the stone from you and left you for dead. Once you were no longer in possession of the gem you had come back to your senses, seen all the havoc you'd wreaked upon that innocent planet. But it was too late, you were already the enemy and they'd never understand if you tried to explain. So you had fought, continuing to try and protect yourself and your life until they had finally overcome you.

Now you were sitting in a cell, back to yourself but now shattered rather than having just a few chips on your broken soul. You'd ben controlled and manipulated your entire life, by those who claimed to be your friends and family, but it was only ever for the power which you had. Seemingly the last of your species, dark and wraith-like nothing more than a wisp of what you could be and easy to control. A child who could wield the power of the infinity stones, any powerful person would want you in their control.

All of that manipulation had left you more than a little broken, to the point that as soon as you had actually been able to get your hands on that gem you'd instantly turned on them. Then you'd gone after all the others who had manipulated you and dictated your life. You'd been passed from hand to hand as a slave would be, malnourished to keep a leash on you. Sometimes you were sold, other times traded, but mostly those who had been holding you were attacked and killed so that somebody new could control you.

Despite having wielded the infinity stone less than a day before you were back to that state you had been in. The stone had been the only thing sustaining your life and making you seem to be anything more than someone who'd been a broken child and was now a broken adult. You fall asleep on your place on the floor in that cell on Asgard, you were powerless to do anything and you knew it, sleeping was the only way you'd be able to ignore the crushing guilt you felt for all you had done.

All too soon you're woken up, the drapes over the glass door of your cell being opened wide and exposing you to the glaring lights. You preferred the dark as any wraith would, it was your natural state to be in the dark, so natural that the light almost hurt. Once you're awake you look over your thin arms and legs, the bruises and cuts from the fight before all healed, thats why they'd opened the drapes, you'd had enough time to heal in the dark but they didn't want to leave you in the dark. The darkness brought you power, not as much power as that gem had, and not as Much as any sort of nutrients would but it had allowed you to heal.

After your eyes finish lingering on the elegant script on your forearm you pull your sleeve to cover it and look up. Across the hallway was another cell, this one containing a raven haired man, his gaze fixed on you and not breaking even when you meet his stare with your own. He looks to be in good shape and everyone else there would think so as well, but you were able to see the haze of magic over his room. You couldn't see through it, you didn't know what he was hiding but there was something he was keeping from prying eyes and you could only applaud him for being able to protect himself in such a way.

~~~~~

Loki had looked up from his book when the drapes across the prison hall were drawn away from the cell they'd been covering from his view. Inside was a person most unusual, a wisp of a being, with grayish skin and sunken eyes which had seen so many things. What were they? He asked himself, intrigued as he'd never seen anything like them before. He's surprised when they meet his eyes and don't look away immediately as anyone else would. The few moments of eye contact are brief as the figure gets up off the floor and seemingly drifts over to their cot.

Peculiar, a long dark robe covered their grayish form, ending a foot or so from the ground revealing no legs or feet touching the floor. There was a faint cloud of dark mist that seemed to surround them, which pooled around where their feet should have been. This was their natural form, no magic concealed who they were as he did with himself. He watches as they take a seat on their cot, the mist around them gathers and forms some spindly legs. Intriguing, now that he had seen that he couldn't unsee it, their entire form seemed to be made of mist, there but not really there, but by the way they sat thy definitely has a solid form in there somewhere.

~~~~~

You'd moved to your cot, hoping that movement would break the stranger's eye contact but when you sat and turned around his gaze was still fixed on you. You hated being perceived, anytime someone looked at you there was a thirst to their gaze, a desire as they wanted to own you. His gaze was different though, more curious than wanting to control you. It eased you ever so slightly, but you still hated it, so you stared back.

Most wouldn't hold your gaze for long before breaking it, they found you horrible to look at with your grey skin and sunken eyes. You weren't always like that though, when you'd had the power stone you had found your true form, what you'd look like if you had been properly taken care of and healthy. Even then, in your true form, people wouldn't hold your gaze, you were no longer the disgusting monster you were currently but they could see the inside. Your grace and power which flowed off of you in that form intimidated them and they'd look away, but this man didn't.

You stare back at him, allowing yourself to break eye contact knowing intimidation and fear would get him to stop, so let him look at the monster you were. You were the most horrible creature someone could set eyes on in their lifetime, if he wanted the sight of you burned into his retina who were you to stop him? So instead you take your own turn to observe him, taking in his features, taking time to notice more than just the raven hair that flowed to his shoulders. His emerald eyes were the first thing which you noticed besides the hair, but it wasn't so much the color that intrigued you it was the pain and loathing you could sense behind them. He did well to hide it but not from you, you had seen that look in your own eyes too many times to not recognize it.

Who knows how long the two of you spend staring at each other across that hallway, but you both allow it to go on. Him, intrigued by never having seen anything like you before and you staring as the face before you feels familiar. You hadn't spent much time around other beings, recognizing faces was not your strong suit but picking a voice out of a crowd was easy. Finally you place it, you place him. A face you'd seen many times in your nightmares. He was the one Thanos called Laufeyson, the one who had gone before you to earth to try and take over. The other one who had failed. The other one Thanos would come after in his rage. The other loose end was sitting there across the hallway from you.

For some reason the fact that he was also here brought you peace, it brought you hope. Maybe, just maybe he had also been controlled. Maybe he would back you up and make an attempt of explaining who Thanos was and what his plans were worth it. But you could be wrong. He could have done nearly the same thing you did but all of his own accord. He could've enjoyed hurting those people.

It was that thought that prevented you from trying to talk to him through the glass. You keep quiet except for when you're being questioned, then you give nothing but honest answers and they aren't believed so you're questioned again and again, tortured and punished for what they take to be lies. At least they allow you to sit in the dark after you're through with the torture, only long enough to heal, but it's long enough to bring you some solace and block the prying eyes.

The constant pain wasn't anything new to you, everyone who had kept you before this had done the same thing if only for different reasons. They had been scared of you, wanted to hurt you to keep you weak, the Asgardians though, were not scared of you. They wanted information and not to keep you on death's door, so their torture was nothing to you.

It becomes routine for you, one day of torture, one day of darkness and one day of nothing before the cycle begins again. One day you find yourself waiting for the guards to come get you, able to guess nearly down to the minute they would arrive each time, but today they don't come. Why they don't come you haven't a clue, until an hour later when a soldier comes storming down the stairs and the man across the hall gives him directions to somewhere.

Then after more hours pass then another guard, this one a guard of Asgard comes down the staircase and talks to the man across the hall. You watch as the magic haze over his room flickers before steadying out once more, whatever he had just been told upset him, and you could only hope it wasn't Thanos coming for the two of you.

The next morning you gain somewhat of an answer, the broad shouldered blond comes down and speaks to the raven haired man, Thor you believed his name was. He was one of the heroes who had protected earth from you. You're surprised when Loki's illusion is lifted from his cell, revealing the state he is in along with all of the broken furniture that had seemed pristine moments earlier. Then even more surprisingly Thor opens up the cell to release him before turning to face you and making your glass cell wall melt away as well.

"You are a wraith, yes?" he ask and you merely nod.

"A wraith you say?" Loki asks, his curiosity piqued once again by you.

"Brother, I need your help to watch her, she tried to take over Midgard as well, but we need her help," then Thor shoots you a look, questioning silently if you'd help.

You couldn't help but wonder how stupid he was as you nod, signaling you would help. He didn't know you, you were nothing but a monster so how could he so willingly trust you? His hand resting on your shoulder startles you, "very well, Wraith, I can see there is good in you-"

"Even with all those people I killed?" You ask, breaking your silence.

"Yes, I have heard the reports from the guards. You've remained steady in your story that you were manipulated into doing all of that and at this time we need all the help we can get and I'm willing to take the chance," he responds confidently.

You nod, once again, thoroughly confused but willing to follow him and his brother through the halls of the palace until you meet with a woman. "Loki, Wraith, this is Jane Foster- the dark elves are here because of her, the aether as fused with her body and they are trying to take her and destroy the nine realms."

"Are you serious Thor? You think that we stand a chance against the might of the dark elves?" Loki asks, irridiculously with a glance in your direction.

"We do, we have you brother and Jane is stronger than she seems," he tries to rest a hand on Loki's shoulder but the other man dodges the hand.

"What does the Wraith have to do with it?"

"When she tried taking over Midgard she carried the power stone in her hands and did not crumble to dust. The aether is much like the power stone and she should be able to protect it from the elves-"

"And you're just going to trust the fate of the nine realms to two criminals?" Loki asks, sounding like he just wants to argue.

"Yes. We must be getting out of here though," Thor says once again with that same confidence.

He leads the group of the four of you through the halls of the palace, taking some sudden turns and winding your way about until you come to an odd looking ship which he has all of you get in before he starts it up and begins flying all of you out of Asgard to who knows where. Once in the ship Loki turns his attention to you for the millionth time and you, as always, maintain eye contact. For some reason Loki's frustrations seem focused on you as he turns once more to Thor, "you've heard tales of the Wraiths and their power how can you trust this one so easily?!" he sounds outraged.

You turn away from him and take a deep breath, despite not having a reaction to all of the torture the sound of him yelling terrified you more than anything. So many times you'd been shouted at then beaten, scolded then thrown in a room lit so brightly it burned your skin. You needed to focus, try and figure out if Thor was being truthful in his trust of you, or if he was trying a different tactic of manipulating you. All you knew he was telling the truth about was that the woman, Jane, has an infinity stone bonded to her and it is slowly killing her.

You don't even realize that she has taken a seat next to you where you have your head in your hands and tried offering words of comfort. You shake your head, "no, Loki is right, it is foolish of Thor to trust me. I'm a monster who has never left anything but pain and destruction in my path. It may not have been my choice to attack earth but I was so filled with pain that I allowed it to happen and even if I can contain the power of the Aether I do not know how it will effect my mind."

"Useless," Loki spits at you.

Then you stand up, feeling anger as you face him, "I know who you are Loki. Thanos is coming for you just like he is coming for me because we failed to take down his enemies, do not act as though you are better than me, the power stone corrupted my mind because I am weak but I was never given a chance until now to do good and I am taking it even if you doubt me. I've learned the hard way I don't need other's approval."

You were going to continue but it is at this point you realize Loki's expression has changed from one of nearly disgust to shock. His masks had fallen down as he stares at you and you glance at Thor who is also looking at you in shock and by the time you're back to Loki his expression is stone cold once more. "What did you say?" he asks in a low tone.

You'd thought his shout had been bad but this terrified you so much more, he was far too calm. You take a shaky breath and say, more gently this time, "Thanos sent me when you failed. I was easy to manipulate because the power stone took ahold of my mind and he used that, I wouldn't doubt if he did the exact same thing to you-"

"Not that-" he says, that angered tone returning as he snatches your right wrist and lifts your sleeve to reveal your soul mark on your forearm. There, shining gold and beautiful against your grey skin was one word, "Useless."

~~~~~

A much as he hated to admit it the Wraith intrigued him, but the part that hurt, the part that made him feel angered towards them was that Thor had so easily trusted them, a complete stranger. Loki and Thor had been brothers, and sure Thor was an idiot for trusting Loki to help with this situation but him showing trust to a total stranger in the same minute he'd offered a second chance to Loki stung.

This is why he questions Thor, why he snaps at you, it's all a test to see if you truly could be trusted. You much like he had had tried to take over Midgard, you could be a good ally but with the situation at hand how could he know he could trust you. So he pushed, working quickly to find what things set you off, what things got you to break the state of silence you were always in.

He had found it, the one thing that made you angered enough to lash out was him spitting that single word at you. Your reaction had surprised him, how quickly you'd been on your feet and in his face. How your entire countenance shown with a deeply hidden power that it seemed even you were unaware of. But the part that surprised him the most were the words that left your lips as you faced him.

"I know you Loki." You hadn't said it with malice, but as a fact, now you knew him he hadn't a clue. He's in too much shock to hear the next words you say, stating how you won't be useless any longer.

He quickly masks his face once again when he realizes you had stopped speaking. He can't stop the hint of anger that crept into his tone. He was far from angry now, but anger was the only thing that kept anyone from getting close enough to him to see through his walls, "what did you say?" he asks in a low voice.

He sees the hesitation in your eyes as you go to respond, "Thanos sent me when you failed. I was easy to manipulate because the power stone took ahold of my mind and he used that, I wouldn't doubt if he did the exact same thing to you-"

"Not that-" he says but doesn't have the patience to explain. He catches your right wrist in his hand and lifts your sleeve to reveal your soul mark. He doesn't realize that his masks once again drop before you as he stares at the elegant script that covered your forearm. His cold finger runs gently over the word written on your soul, "useless," the first word he had uttered to the one who was his soulmate.

~~~~~

It's as his index finger runs over the mark on your arm that you realize what he has said. The first word he had spoken directly to you, the one that had brought you hope in some of your darkest moments, the one that had also broken you completely, even your soulmate thought you were useless. You can't help it as you snatch your arm away from him, how dare he- How dare he call you useless then stare at your soul mark- Even if he was your soulmate.

You're surprised when he actually lets you walk away to the other end of the ship without stopping you. Your heart is pounding in your chest as you stare at those beautiful yet painful letters on your arm, somewhere in the back of your mind you register Thor and Jane having a whispered conversation. Without turning around you know that Loki hadn't moved from his place and was still staring at your back, damn him why did he have to be like this.

You had only shared looks across that hallway for months, you'd never done anything to warrant him being rude to you in this way and now, knowing as well as he did that your souls were linked hurt. If you weren't already so broken you're sure it would have broken you more, would have been the final straw to tear you apart... There isn't time for you to dwell on that as the ship rocks back and forth, coming into contact with the turbulence of an atmosphere, you were landing and it was time for you to take your chance to do something good with your life. With that thought in your mind you pull your sleeve down to cover your arm again and turn to stride past Loki to the front of the ship.

~~~~~

Loki could only gaze after you when you walked away, he recognized a broken soul when he saw one, it was what he saw in the mirror everyday. He had seen the disdain and hurt in your eyes as you ripped your arm away from his grasp, and knowing you were the one he was meant to spend his life with, the one most likely to love him back and he had already hurt you. The feeling was so much worse than any torture that Thanos could think to inflict upon him.

When they were going in for a landing and you strode past him without a glance it was like a punch in the gut. He had ruined any chance he had of gaining you favor in less than and hour, just because he had to play stupid, stupid, mind games. He just had to try and push your buttons and test you as he always did with anyone he saw a possibility of being useful.

~~~~~

You look at Jane for a moment before gently resting your hand on her shoulder, "I'm going to try and take the aether from you..." you glance at Thor, "if I loose control I want you to do whatever it takes to keep me from hurting more people even if it means killing me." You make eye contact with him for a few moments before asking, "can you please promise me this?" You ask in barely more than a whisper, letting your shields down for once as you ask, you don't care you just don't want anyone to use you anymore.

"I will promise you Wraith, I will not let you bring harm to anyone else," Thor says confidently, though you do notice his glance at Loki.

That allows you to relax, you take your time as you come to a landing on the red desert planet below you to focus your attention on taking the Aether out of the human. By the time you all land you've been able to take it from her it's power flowing through you. This stone is much more subtle than the power stone, you're able to keep control of your own mind when the reality stone latches itself to you.

~~~~~

Loki can only watch as you take the Aether from Jane, hearing you didn't care how Thor stopped you only confirmed his fear he had scared you off with his childish games. Nevertheless as he watches he's amazed with the transformation your body goes through as you harness the power of the infinity stone.

Your grayish skin changes to a more human color, your body fills out, your wispy figure disappearing. The years of abuse disappearing from your form, revealing your true beauty and the confidence someone with your abilities should. He can only stand in awe of you and your appearance as you turn to then step off the ship onto the desert planet.

When he hesitates to follow Thor walks over to him and puts a hand on his shoulder, "brother, it is not too late. You can see through lies, you would know if all that the Wraith has said is true or not. They are clearly as broken as you are, Brother, but they are willing to change. I'm sure that if you do, they also hold forgiveness in their heart." Thor gives him a firm pat on the shoulder as he turns to also leave the ship, "now let us go, and defeat the dark elves before they can take the Aether."

~~~~~

You stand and can see the ship of the Dark Elves' in the distance. If this was your end then so be it, you could finally rest with peace knowing you had aided Thor as some level of recompense for the damage you had caused. Jane comes to stand next to you, breathing deeply as she gently says, "thank you."

"I'm just glad that I am able to help the universe in some way," you respond, your eyes can't help but linger for a moment on her soul mark, on her right forearm where everyone's was. Part of you hoped that Loki wasn't your soulmate, it was only one word and not specific enough to guarantee anything, but you knew that wasn't the case, with the way he had reacted you knew the words on his arm were the first that left your lips when speaking to him.

"I know that you will," Jane says, removing you from your thoughts.

Thats when Thor makes his way down to the two of you, "Jane, you stay here but not on the ship, it is where you will be safest."

"Thor I am not going to just sit back and watch all of this happen, I might not be as powerful as the rest of you but I will be doing my part."

Thor can only nod, and you can see the fond smile he has on his face as he looks at her, "very well, but as soon as the convergence begins I will be placing you back on earth to do your part there." With that he leads the way towards the other ship, not waiting to see if his brother would be joining them. It would be very helpful to have the trickster at their side during this but after the words which had been spoken it made sense that Loki would need a moment.

As you walk Thor asks you if you know what you are capable of. "No, I don't I have been told of the things I can do as a Wraith but I have been kept subdued my entire existence so I haven't learned anything more that what you saw on earth... But I do have control of my own mind at this time," you add trying to make sure he wouldn't misunderstand you.

"It will be enough," he says and once again places a hand on your shoulder, but quickly removes it when you flinch. The group of twenty or so Dark Elves stand a few hundred feet in front of you when Thor speaks again, raising his voice to shout, "Malekith! Today is the day you meet your end, I will not allow you to destroy the nine realms."

"Thor," Malekith responds with a eerie smile on his face, "I thank you for delivering the Aether to me, unfortunately you won't be around to see the realms brought to perfection." It's with that that he points a finger towards your group, signaling for his followers to attack you.

Everything happening flies past, much like it had on earth, you fight alongside Thor using the power of the Aether to aid you, but then you come face to face with Malekith. The Elf has some sort of hold over the Aether and by extension you, he lifts you into the air and begins to take the Aether from you. No matter how you struggle you can feel not just the Aether but also your life slipping away from you, he wasn't taking just the infinity stone but all the power your weak body held. You try and fight, and try to hold on but before it your vision goes black.

You didn't expect too but you're able to open your eyes again hours later, the Aether has left you so you are back to your grey wispy form but your body doesn't ache as badly as you had expected. This planet was dark so it made sense, you'd been able to heal yourself in the shadows. You sit up, your eyes already adjusted to the dark, but just now noticing that there was nothing on the planet around you. There was some rubble of the ship nearby but besides that nothing, no Dark Elves, no Thor, no Jane. You were alone and how exactly you felt about that you weren't sure, you'd never been left so completely alone before.

Your reaction comes slowly, you can only assume that since you are alive you had done your part but it doesn't stop you from crying as suddenly everything sets in. You'd been able to do something good with your life, finally, but as you always had you'd left a trail of loss and destruction behind you. Sure, it was fine the Elves were gone but Thor and Jane had abandoned you here, on purpose or not was unclear. Though, the thing that hurt the most was that you had met your soulmate and you had instantly pushed him away, just for him to do the same. Sure, he had hurt you but you turning your back so quickly once you realized had to have hurt him as well and now you were on this barren planet where you'd eventually die of starvation.

You sit up as you let the tears roll down your cheeks, your hand naturally grasping at the floor for any sort of stability. You're shocked when you don't find that though, you lift your hand to your tear filled eyes and look at the dirt filling your palm. You were outside for one of the few times in your life and something about that calmed your tears, they were still present but weren't flowing as freely. You continued to let the feeling of dirt running through your fingers to ground you, you were finally free even if- no don't think about the long slow death awaiting you here just enjoy the fact that you are free that you could stand up right now and take off running without anyone hunting you down. Thats it- thats what you'll do, you'll run for the first time in centuries and just let the wind blow around you. You stand up, wiping the tears from your cheeks as you take a shaky breath, let out an excited laugh and look ahead of you.

Standing in front of you is him, Loki. You hadn't noticed he was there, how much he had seen of you crying on the ground you had no idea but the fact that he was there created a strange sensation in your chest. "I- Loki I didn't-"

Once again he cuts you off but this time it's much gentler, "no, I need to apologize. I've been captivated by you since the moment I first laid eyes on you then when we were finally able to speak I lashed out with childish games, Wraith-"

It's your turn to cut him off, "my name isn't actually Wraith, it's y/n," you pause and decide to extend an olive branch of your own, "you can just call me y/n."

"Y/n," he says thoughtfully, letting the name flow off of his silver tongue, and once again that strange tightening sensation strikes your chest. "That is a lovely name, y/n," he concludes.

You bite on the tip of your tongue as you look at him for a moment, "I need to apologize as well. I walked away from you without giving you a chance to explain yourself. I know we are little more than strangers and you calling my trustworthiness into question is only logical."

He seems a bit taken aback by your honesty but he smoothly take your hand in his, lifting your sleeve once more to look at your soul mark. "Would you be willing to give me a second chance to make up for my mistake? I have a feeling we are both broken and bruised, similar yet different with much to learn."

You cant stop the small smile that tugs at your lips. You take your hand back from his and take ahold of his right arm, taking your turn to lift his armored sleeve and view the words written there in gold, "I know you Loki," you read them out loud then meet his eyes once more, "I'd be happy to give you a second chance as you call it, as long as you are willing to give me one as well."

The relief behind his eyes is clear to you, but what isn't clear is why he cups your cheeks in his hands. He gently wipes away any remaining tears on your face, "of course I will give you a second chance," he states it gently, but firmly and once again your chest tightens. It was then that he made his intentions with his hands on your cheeks clear, as he used them to pull you into a cautious kiss, that becomes more sure when you return it.

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givemethatgold · 3 years

Text

Fix’er Upper Pt. 3

Pairing: Eventual Frankie Morales x F!Reader Warnings: Clumsy injury, more stupid fighting Length: 2.5k Notes: If these two dummies could have one (1) adult conversation they’d be in bed together by now. Instead, we get this! *waves around vaguely*

PART ONE, TWO

Money was tight. You had been trying to ignore the dwindling stack of cash, telling yourself that you didn’t actually need to fix the cracked drywall, replace the old oven, or fill in the missing patches of shingles.

That ignorance had finally come to bite you in the butt. You were rudely woken at three a.m. to the clap of thunder and the pat-pat-pat of rain hitting the house. You loved storms, the excitement of the lighting, and how fresh the air smelled once the rain had passed.

You rolled over onto your back so you could watch the lightning flashing between the cracks of your curtains. A tap on your forehead quickly destroyed the excitement you were feeling. The wet ‘splat’ was quickly followed by another, and another, and before you were able to scramble up and search for the closest thing resembling a bucket, it had turned into a steady stream.

“Fuuuuuuuck!”

The next morning, the sun rose and shed its light upon a beautiful scene. The leaves, now free from dust, were beginning to turn, the grass glimmered with raindrops, and the sky was clear. You, on the other hand, were a verifiable disaster.

Hair unkempt, heavy bags under your eyes, and wearing the first items of clothing you could find in your scramble last night. Your exhaustion was so complete, it hadn’t even dawned on you to change or freshen up a bit before going out into the public eye. All you could focus on was getting to Hank’s Hardware and buying all the shingles you could get your hands on.

Once again, however, you were harshly reminded of your dwindling savings and just how expensive fixing up a house could be. The owner, Allan if you remembered correctly, had shown you the right size and style for your home’s roof and you nearly choked at the price.

“You know,” he had said gently, “we do have the option of a payment plan. I don’t let just anyone use it either. It’s for trusted customers. I have a good gut on who I can trust.”

“Really?” You asked, feeling a little pathetic while also knowing now was not the time to let pride ruin such a good thing. “And, um, what does your gut tell you about me?”

“Welllll,” he smiled, hooking his thumbs into his suspenders and leaning back a little to size you up. “You’re hard-working, feel like you have something to prove, won’t back down from a challenge, and are in way over your head with that damn old house.”

“Oh.”

“No offense, ma’am! Sometimes I forget myself and talk to strangers the same way I’d talk to my friends.” He patted your forearm gently then hooked it back into his suspenders, pretending he didn’t notice you jumping at the physical contact. “But it’s true. No denying you won’t be able to shingle all by yourself. I’d offer, but I’m in no shape to be climbing up roofs.”

“That’s very sweet of you, truly. But I’ll manage! I doubt I could afford a handyman, so it’ll be me and my stubborn self scrambling around up there.” You joked, but it fell a little flat since the both of you knew it was the truth.

“I’ve got an idea...” Hank trailed off, his gaze searching around by the till. “Maybe you two can help each other out?” He fiddled at the computer for a minute, then grabbed a flyer from the corkboard mounted behind the counter before handing you two pieces of paper. One was a receipt of what you owed him after this latest excursion and a detailed timeline of when small payments could be made.

Glancing up at him, you gave him a watery smile and thanked him for being so kind. Allan waved you off and pointed to the second paper.

‘Help Wanted’ it read, ‘Morales Acres. Light physical labour, quiet environment, rate of pay dependent on quality of work.’

“So friendly and welcoming,” you murmured, sarcastically, under your breath. Not quietly enough though because Allan snorted out a laugh and agreed that the ad was worded very abruptly. However, he vetted for the owner of the farm and suggested you head over to see if he would be willing to trade labour for labour.

Or at the very least, you thought, pay you so you can afford a roofer.

Following the directions Allan had provided for you, you quickly found Morales Acres. Surprisingly, it was a very short distance from your own home, making you wonder if the owner had been one of the people to drop by during your first weeks here.

The driveway was a beautiful, winding drive. The view of the farm was obscured by thickets of trees on either side of the road but you managed to catch glimpses of a pond and a few bales of hay before rounding a bend and driving into the yard.

A small gasp left your lips at the sight. It was picturesque! Something out of a travel magazine, or on every city girl’s Pinterest board. The driveway came to an end in front of a statuesque barn painted in the classic red and white, stone walls cordoned off certain areas that, from where you sat, looked like they could be used to house sheep or hens. A few small sheds were lined up along the other edge of the yard but the main attraction was the neatly lined rows of apple trees all heavy with fruit.

Climbing out of the cab, you slowly made your way into the yard with your mouth hanging open dumbly. It was just so peaceful here and it was obvious that the owner cared deeply for the property. You were enchanted and fell immediately in love.

“You must be the help Allan called to say he was sending over,” a warm voice rang out.

Looking around for the source your gaze widened, then immediately hardened, when you caught sight of who was talking to you.

“You!”

“You?!”

To say it had been a smooth business agreement would be a total lie. You and Market Asshole, Frankie you reminded yourself to call him, had bickered back and forth for the better part of an hour before shaking hands. Surprisingly, you had both argued more for the other person’s benefit, something you had been mulling over since.

If this guy was such an ass, why was he also acting like his help with your renovations wouldn’t be worth as much as you picking apples? You knew your presence disturbed his peace, and that you weren’t as strong as he might have hoped his helper would be, and he still hadn’t trusted you with all the workings of his orchard.

So, while you weren’t going to argue anymore, you knew you were getting the better end of the deal: you help him gather his harvest and get it safely stored in the barn, then he spends the same amount of hours helping you. While the weather during September was prone to drizzle, you had convinced him that a tarp thrown over the baldest patches of roof would be fine and that the apples couldn’t wait.

He had grumpily conceded your point but had sworn that as soon as the last of the fruit was picked he’d be over to do a proper job of it. So continued the uneasy truce between the two of you for the past four weeks. The first week was the hardest as your hands, unaccustomed to work, blistered, and your muscles ached from sudden use. You had initially tried to pass the time by making conversation but you got the hint and stayed quiet once Frankie started choosing trees farther and farther from yours.

Slowly, however, the blisters healed and gave way to callouses. Your muscles became accustomed to the work and you were able to carry twice the amount as you had started off with. Your home could now boast electricity and running water everywhere it should be, and the pile of discarded furniture had been reduced to ash by a spectacular bonfire which Jacquie and her family had joined you in admiring.

Today started off as a normal day. You showed up for harvesting at the break of dawn, having discovered you much preferred the cool morning air over being up on a ladder with the midday sun beating down on you. The trees were obscured by a low fog that had yet to burn up, but you knew what section you needed to start on.

Enjoying the way the fog enveloped you, making you feel like you were in a magical world, you began to hum and your steps took on a dreamy dance-like quality. You had never taken lessons or had even been allowed to make such a spectacle of yourself while living with Brad but now you felt free enough to spin, twirl, and glide. Overcome with the joy your freedom gave you, you began to belt out “These Are a Few of my Favourite Things”, The Sound of Music having been played on repeat when you were a child.

Once you reached the ladder, you hoisted the basket onto your back and continued to sing whatever songs you could remember while you worked. A particularly boisterous rendition of “Do Re Mi” had you flinging your arm out wide and leaning back on the ladder for a dramatic finish.

The apples threw you off balance.

With a screech, you fell backward, managing to twist yourself around to land awkwardly on your hands and knees instead of on the basket of apples strapped to your back. You seemed to have come away unscathed, with just scratched knees and a throbbing in one wrist. Thankfully it wasn’t your dominant hand.

“Whoa!” Frankie called out, catching sight of you on the ground with the ladder tipped on its side, “Everything okay? Are you okay?”

Coming to a skidding stop next to you, he grasped the basket and slipped it off your back with ease.

You took a few deep breaths and nodded. “Fine! Fine, just bruised knees and ego...” you assured him.

“What were you thinking?!” He tore into you, “You could have broken your neck! Or ruined a whole barrel of apples! Then what would I do?! This job doesn’t come with health insurance for Christ's sakes!” Running his hands through his curly, brown hair he let out a huff of air and walked over to where your ladder lay on the ground.

“Un-be-fucking-lievable!” You called out, incredulously. While trying to get to your feet, to march over and wag your finger in his face, you put too much pressure on your injured wrist that caused pain to scream down your arm.

You managed to mask the cry of pain as a cry of frustration and got to your feet. Surreptitiously cradling your hand against your chest, you grabbed another basket and walked past Frankie to start climbing the ladder again. Looking at the ground so he wouldn’t see the tears of pain in your eyes, you mumbled, “I’ll be more careful, alright? I’m sorry.”

Stopping your ascent with a hand on your arm he stuttered out what might have been the beginning of an apology but he couldn’t quite seem to put the right words together so he just cleared his throat.

“Just...” he said in a much softer tone, “just be more careful. Okay? I can’t lose my best worker.”

The lame joke made you smile despite yourself.

“Employee of the month,” you replied in a dry tone, “hurrah.”

You shared wry smiles while a silent apology passed between the two of you. His dark brown eyes held a warmth to them you had never noticed before. Their hue reminding you of every tree in the orchard from the early light to the sunset, golden flecks reminiscent of the sun. His face, weathered from so much time spent outdoors, was marked with laugh lines, worry lines, and a small scar gracing his left cheek.

Your eyes wandered past the scar to note how long his scruffy facial hair had grown and how it had started to obscure those pleasantly pouty lips.

Then, with a start, you realized you were staring at this infuriating man’s lips like a hormonal teenager. With an embarrassed squeak, you quickly scurried up the ladder, hooking your elbow around each rung to avoid any more pressure on your wrist.

To say Frankie was coping well with having someone around would be a gross overstatement.

It’s not that he didn’t like the company or wanted to be alone. The problem was that he was starting to like her company too much, to care too much. And caring too much had been the root cause of all Frankie’s sorrows.

First, there had been his Dad, trying to impress the man who never even wanted kids. Then the force, always feeling like he needed to prove himself and desperate for praise. After that was his wife, ex-wife, and trying to be someone he wasn’t so she would stay interested and in love. The pressure created by caring about these people and the expectations they had for him drove him to abuse drugs. Then his friends came calling and Frankie went against his gut because they had cared so deeply about something and he had cared deeply for them.

His wife, his kid, his family, his job, his friends. He had cared more than they did and he had come away worse off. At least now he was clean and sober, and was very aware of the irony of him now making and selling an alcoholic drink.

No, it was best to stay alone. He loved too freely and put too much stock in being loved back and every. single. time. it hurt him.

So, he closed himself off from you. Initially, he didn’t think it was going to be an issue, especially considering how you two had met. But then he found himself smiling at your stories, idly leaning against a branch so he could watch your graceful moments. He hated watching you leave, knowing you were going home to that piece of shit house that he should really be fixing up for you.

He recognized the signs and nipped them in the bud; working farther away, replying to questions with the fewest possible words, focusing purely on work, and maintaining a professional relationship. It pained him to push you away but deep down he knew it was best for the both of you.

Which brings him back to this moment.

Frankie was too stunned to notice your awkward climb up the ladder. Standing there, dumbly, for another few seconds. Wondering, all the way back to the idling tractor, what the hell had just happened.

One minute he was just driving the tractor minding his own business and the next he was having a mild heart attack after seeing his only worker laying limp on the ground. Then, after arguing like usual, you had shared a...a moment and stared at his mouth almost long enough to tempt him to use it.

Part Four

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#Fix'er Upper #Frankie Morales x reader #Frankie Catfish Morales x reader #Catfish x reader #catfish x you #Frankie Morales x you #triple frontier fanfiction #Frankie Catfish Morales fanfiction

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what-the-witch-stuff · 3 years

Text

Landings Through the Grapevine

Chapter 1: Introduction

Masterpost: here

Go to: Ch.1 | Ch.2 |

Pairing: Elliott x OC

_________________________

It was a quiet morning in Stardew Valley. Birds were singing faintly in the distance and a hazy mist hung in the air, transforming everything not directly close into blue-ish hues and indistinct shapes. The sun had just risen over the horizon, chasing after the last traces of pink in the otherwise clear, blue sky. Not one cloud was in sight.

This was indeed a pleasant surprise. The villagers had feared for the constant downpour, that has persisted for the last couple of days, to delay the annual spring festivities. But now, only the wet squelching sound under the farmer's boots disrupted the idyllic scenery, as she made her way around the forest clearing, where the annual Flower Dance would be taking place. Undeterred by the early hour, the preparations were going just as planned, though they were far from finished. Riley herself had only a few decorations left to hang up, but they were still waiting on a cart to bring a few chairs and parts of the sound equipment.

A loud continuous thumping echoed over the meadow as Robin was still busy with setting up Pierre's booth. The noise was shortly interrupted, as Robin readjusted the planks she was working on, before spotting the farmer.

“Good morning Riley! Oh, you cleaned up nicely.”, Robin greeted her cheerfully and looked her over. Though Robin had apologized for ever doubting Riley's ability to take over her grandfather's farm, it were comments like these that made conversing with the carpenter a bit difficult. As Riley still didn't know Robin too well, the double meaning of the statement was not lost on her. But today, the farmer wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt, hoping that Robin was just a little aloof sometimes.

'Don't rock the boat now. Think about the barn upgrade' .

So, she forced herself to just smile and wave before turning back around and the noise of the hammer picked up again. For the occasion, Riley had indeed ditched her usual overall and stained-shirt combo, in favour of one of her nicer outfits she used to wear back in Zuzu City. The only thing left from her usual farming attire was her sword which, clearly visible on her left hip, marked her as a member of the Adventurer's Guild.

While she had been quite pleased with her decision at first, something about the outfit had triggered a weird feeling. It had taken some time for her to remember, that she had not worn these clothes since the fatal day, that she had quit her job at Joja Corporation. However, by the time Riley had come to that realization, it had been far too late to change into something else. The whole morning, she had tried to push the thought away, as today was supposed to be a good day, after all. The farmer was usually not the person to care much about traditions. Nevertheless, after walking around in clammy work clothes for the past week, even Riley was looking forward to the Flower Dance. It had been a little awkward during her first year, as she had been completely new to the community. And while most villagers had been rather welcoming towards her, it were customs such as the dance that still made her feel like an outsider.

'Well, what do I expect?' , Riley asked herself, while carefully climbing a ladder, to hang a couple of pastel-coloured, flower garlands into the lower branches of a tree. “This is my second year after all. Shane came to live with Marnie and Jas three years ago. Leah and Elliott moved here, roughly around the same time. They might be part of the town now, but otherwise, all of them are kind of outsiders too.” Even so, and the thought made her pause mid task with a snort, that was probably also due to their very individual personalities.

“Well, at least someone is having a good morning.”, remarked a deep voice from below. Speaking of the devil. Shane was looking up to her, an unreadable expression on his face and dressed in the traditional sky-blue uniform, all attending Bachelors would be wearing to the dance. In his hands was a bowl of pepper-poppers from which he ate one ever so often, while watching her work.

“Oh wow Shane, I would say you cleaned up nicely too but I might be lying”, Riley replied with a grin, to which Shane just rolled his eyes and kept chewing completely unfazed .

“Fuck you. I know I look just fine, so you can suck it!”, he grouchily mumbled, though it sounded more like he tried to convince himself rather than her. “You sure do, buddy”. Finally happy with her work, Riley descended the ladder to greet her friend properly. “And you would look even better, if you stopped stuffing your face like a pig!”.

“They're my favorite”, he protested childishly and provocatively grabbed another pepper.

“And I spend a lot of time making them all by myself.”

“I helped too”

“No, you flaked to play soccer with Jas and Vincent!”

Shane's expression bore a cheeky grin, probably anticipating to say something rude. But the pair was interrupted by Pierre, calling out for their help to unload the cart that had finally arrived….

Since Marnie was still in a not-so-secret- relationship with Mayor Lewis, she insisted on taking part in the preparations of any official festivity. Many of the dishes, decked onto a couple of large folding tables, had been prepared the previous day at Marnie's farm, with Riley chipping in her labour and even part of her harvest.

“What happened to breakfast, you greedy gremlin?”, asked Riley, saving the half empty bowl from Shane's grasp, to return it to the buffet. The gremlin in question trailed behind, pretending like he was not sulking over the loss of the food:

“As you like to remind me, microwaved pizza is no proper breakfast”. At that Riley raised both eyebrows in mock-astonishment:

“Oh, so now the good sir suddenly cares about what I have to say ?”

“So Riley, you're not dancing?”, Marlon asked in between sips of punch.

The sun had risen higher in the sky, and the cool morning had turned into a bright midday. Everything was set up and ready. Soft music played over lively conversation, as bit by bit all villagers arrived. Riley didn't really know what to do with herself, when she could no longer hide behind tasks and actually had to socialize. Seeing Marlon standing in a far corner of the meadow, one hand calmly resting on the hilt of his sword while overseeing the scenery, presented a great excuse to escape dreadful smalltalk. They were well acquainted by now and she had not seen him in a while, other than when she visited the Guild directly. It wasn't too weird, if she made use of that affiliation, right?

If Marlon felt disturbed through her presence he didn't let it show. He just nodded in acknowledgement and together they watched the Spring Maidens enter the clearing, garbed in white from head to toe, with lacy floral decorations sewn onto their dresses and flowers in their hair.

“I think, such ' spirits ' might have other things to worry about right now”.

Unfortunately for her, even Marlon seemed talkative today and Riley answered him reluctantly: “No. As far as I am concerned, the couples dancing stay mostly the same. Wouldn't want to disrupt that order, y'a know”, That was not entirely true, though. The other reason was that a certain someone would most likely turn her down if she'd ever asked him. And Riley was not willing to open THAT can of worms anytime soon. Marlon hummed in understanding: “I see. I just thought, since you're a farmer, you might want to participate.”

“What does being a farmer have to do with that?”

Marlon looked at her, the brow above his remaining eye slightly raised in surprise: ”The flower dance is an ancient fertility ceremony. Back when the village still believed in the spirits of this land, the dance was held to gain their favour for the upcoming harvest. Surely you wouldn't want the spirits that make things grow on your bad side, ey?”.

Riley was not sure what to make of this new piece of information, so the farmer and the monster hunter fell back into silence. Looking around, the meadow didn't really look like an old or magical place to her. It most definitely didn't feel like one either. Compared to the eerie solitude of the Community Center and the claustrophobic depths of the mines, the clearing seemed so very ordinary. On the other hand, it wouldn't be the first time that the Valley proved to be full of surprises. One year ago, Riley was some disillusioned worker's bee in a corporate nightmare. Now, she belonged to a world where magic was real, wizards lived in secluded towers, monsters hid in the depths of the wild and animals could talk. Or rather, Riley could suddenly talk to them (?). Overall, the land was full of entities and forces, Riley didn't plan to meddle with, let alone offend. For a moment she got worried enough, that she almost asked Marlon directly, if he thought the Junimos would truly be cross with her, for not attending the dance. But she decided against it, as someone might end up overhearing their conversation. Surely, Marlon was one of the few people in Pelican Town, who knew about the otherworldliness of the valley. He had probably seen more than Riley would ever experience in her lifetime. But this wasn't the time and place to talk about such things openly.

“And they better have their priorities straight. If they ever dare giving me shit, for not doing that stupid dance, I'm out. Have fun rebuilding the Community Center without me !”,

was what she did not say. “Besides, wouldn't it look silly to be wearing a sword with such a dress?”, she jokingly gestured in the direction of the Bachelorettes, but to no one in particular. Marlon, again, shortly averted his eyes from the crowd to look at her, in what one might consider to be amusement: “Silly? Kid, that sword is a badge of honour. Of course we wear it to any occasion, men and women alike. Back in the days, Old Linda wouldn't be caught dead not wearing her sword. Also made the lads keep their hands to themselves, if you know what I mean.”, at this he cackled quietly to himself and took another sip.

“What happened to them? Linda and the other women in the guild?”, Riley asked curiously since Marlon rarely was so chatty. “What do you think? This was way before your time. They're probably dead or very old. Some got married, moved to the city and forgot all about their old lives here. ….Your grandma was one of the last”.

Marlon's eyes were back on the gathering, but there was something harsh crossing his features. Riley didn't know what to say. So she just kept watching him in hopes he would elaborate on that. But he remained shrouded in silence. She knew that their conversation was over for good. And knowing Marlon, he wouldn't want to talk about it anytime soon either. So, she tried pushing her questions into the back of her mind and rather focused on the gathering at hand, where the female villagers were now the centre of attention.

The first Bachelorette she saw was the blue haired bar-maid who was hard not to overlook, thanks to her outgoing personality. Emily's dress was full of ruffles and detailed embroidery and made her look even more whimsical. Like a fairy, she was all smiles and joy, half-dancing half skipping over the grass barefoot, as her skirts flowed and billowed along her every movement. If Clint was trying not to stare at her directly, he unfortunately wasn't very good at it. And with concern, Riley noticed the disdain in his eyes when she hugged Shane and started chatting excitedly. Abigail was the polar opposite, in the way she acted all nonchalantly and kept her posture extremely casual. She smirked and rolled her eyes at anyone complimenting her dress, but soon settled into her usual group of friends and as far away from her parents, as physically possible. Haley posed a little to better show off her new dress and happily chatted with Jody and Caroline about the cut and some issues she had with shipping.

It was then that Riley caught a glimpse of auburn in the crowd and her heart skipped a beat, when she saw Elliott and Leah chatting with Marnie and Harvey. He looked handsome (but then Riley always thought he was) with his blue overcoat complimenting his fair skin tone, while contrasting his coppery hair. Leah, who didn't seem too interested in the conversation at hand, ended up catching her gaze and gave a small wave. Riley felt like she missed a step on a staircase and could hardly control the nervous flutter in her chest, when Elliott turned his head in her direction too. His noble features turned from confused to an amused smile as he spotted her. And just like the gentleman he was, he gave her a courteous nod. Riley could not help, but smile back warmly with butterflies fluttering in her stomach.

It was silly.

But a crush was a crush.

Ever since Elliott had invited her for drinks during a chance meeting at the saloon, Riley had been head over heels for the cocky and slightly eccentric writer. He was charming in his good old fashioned way. Not only did he look like the figurative embodiment of a Jane Austen character. He also played the part: always most polite and private in an outside setting and so very concerned about the impression he made on others. But once rather tipsy, Elliott had been much more forthcoming in what was actually going on in his mind. Riley fondly remembered how she couldn't stop laughing after unexpectedly hearing Elliott say ' shit ' for the first time.

It was nice. …

Just a shame, that his interest in her had not survived the night. While they had parted in good spirits, the next day, their interaction was back to pleasant conversation and occasional discussions on his drafts. Riley respected that. Of course she did. But that didn't stop her from developing quite a passion for fishing, in hopes to see him standing at the docks when battling his usual writer's block. For a moment Elliott looked as if he tried to excuse himself from his current company. He kept looking back at her with, what almost seemed like, impatience as he waited for Harvey to finish talking. But then, Mayor Lewis announced for the dance to begin and Elliot took Leah's hand, to gracefully lead her to the middle of the clearing, along with the other couples.

#stardew valley elliott #stardew elliott #stardew valley #elliott stardew valley #elliott x reader #sdv elliott #original female character #sdv fanfic #stardew valley farmer #sdv farmer #elliott sdv #stardew fanfic

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chaolie · 3 years

Text

Home is where your heart is [2/3] - A new home

Here we go, another chapter for @fundyfiles' event! This chapter is probably the angstiest I'll write for this story, so keep that in mind! It's almost as long as the last one too, which I think is great! You can also find this on my Ao3!

Characters: Fundy, Yogurt, Foolish, others mentioned

Words: 3.6k

Warning: Injury (not described closely)

Chapter 1: Tumblr / Ao3

Las Nevadas was... quite a change from the forest. The thing that seemed to intrigue Yogurt the most was the sand, the boy spent the first few hours just putting his hands into it and inspecting it. Fundy knew for a fact that his son saw sand before, but never so much of it in one place, just small patches of it by the river. After the initial confusion, Yogurt appeared to accept his surroundings, and almost every time Fundy looked, he was playing in the sand. He kept running around and going back to look at the shapes he left, which quickly changed into him just drawing with his hands or, if he could find one, a stick. If he felt a bit more mischievous though, he would change into a fox, dig a hole, and then back into a human to 'decorate' it, creating a surprisingly efficient trap. It wasn't too hard to avoid those though, and the only major downside Fundy found so far was getting the sand out of his son's hair, fur, and clothes at the end of each day.

Las Nevadas had many other differences from their previous home, though. It was big, it had so much open space that they could probably walk around with their eyes closed and wouldn’t have to worry about running into a tree. It was also much louder and brighter, the countless lamps lined the streets and sometimes you couldn’t tell it was nighttime without looking up and finding the moon. It made it harder for Yogurt to fall asleep, but he always managed when Fundy sat by his side, humming soft melodies as if they were lullabies before going off to wander the streets. It helped to keep him awake, and he really didn’t want to go to sleep. His nightmares were getting more frequent, and the last thing he wanted was to alert the entire country whenever he woke up.

Speaking of, that must’ve been the biggest difference. The people. Well, they weren’t all people, most of the residents had some inhuman traits in one way or the other, but that didn’t matter too much. At first, Fundy was worried to show them his son, he wasn’t sure how’d they treat him, so for a while, only Quackity knew. Still, it was hard to hide an entire child from them, so one by one, they all figured out who the little boy they sometimes saw running around was. And they took it well, they helped Fundy if he asked, and it became an unspoken rule that if they spot him anywhere without his dad in sight, they should either inform the man, or look after him themselves. It was a good rule, he thought. It certainly made it easier to keep calm if he lost sight of Yogurt for a moment.

Some people agreed to help even more than that, and Fundy couldn’t be more grateful for them. He came up with a way to keep himself awake for longer, but he’d need someone to look after Yogurt while he tried it out. He didn’t expect much, he just hoped someone would agree to go check on him a few times a day to make sure he had food and was safe, maybe put him to bed if they felt like spending a bit more time there. Foolish, the first person he asked and a father as well, agreed to do much more than that, though. They briefly went over how Fundy took care of Yogurt and almost everything was settled, they only needed to let the kid know.

“Hey, Yogurt!” Fundy called out, and the fox kit’s head peaked out from the small tent he set up for the two of them until their new house would be finished. “Come here, I need to tell you something.”

The fox hid back inside of the tent, and just moments later ran outside as a kid instead. Fundy was very proud of how well the boy learned to shapeshift, it took him just a moment to switch from being a fox to a human and back, and the man was sure that soon there would be a day his son would be better than him at that. This wasn’t the time to marvel at that, though, there was a serious talk they had to have. As the child finally ran up to him, he crouched down and took a deep breath.

“So… You know Foolish, right?” he asked, looking over his shoulder and at the mentioned man trailing slowly behind him. Yogurt nodded eagerly. “That’s good. I… have to go somewhere, and it could take a while, so if you need anything just ask him. Okay?”

“Where...?” the kid asked, his expression falling slightly.

“Uh… you remember Quackity? He asked me to get something, but to do that, I have to travel west for a while. It could take a day, but it’ll probably be longer. But Foolish will look after you until I’m back, okay?” he explained. Despite still looking upset, the boy in front of him nodded slowly.

“...Okay,” he repeated before stepping closer and trapping his dad in a warm hug. “Bye…?” he muttered. With how rarely Fundy left, he barely used the word so far.

“Bye,” Fundy answered with a nod. “I’ll be back before you know it, I promise,” he added, gently patting his son’s head until the boy let go.

Staying on the move should help him stay awake, right? And Yogurt would be fine.

***

11 days. That’s how much time passed since Fundy left, how much time Yogurt had to spend alone. Well, not alone, Foolish took care of him, and occasionally someone else dropped by and left him some berries or other treats. His ‘designated babysitter’ sometimes brought his own kids along, and the boy really enjoyed the new company. They were fun to play with even if they just wanted to build sandcastles all day, at least Yogurt could show off his newly developed skill to his dad when he was back! Whenever that would be.

Foolish assured him every evening, it would be okay, Fundy would return soon enough. He’d return with the item he was tasked with getting and he’d probably bring Yogurt some gifts too. He also talked about how well the man could protect himself, and about how safe he must be staying… but the kid didn’t doubt that to begin with. He wasn’t worried that his dad would get hurt or lost, he was just… lonely. He missed him. Having his dad near meant that he was safe, and that he was home… and while the tent he still slept in was comfortable and all the people caring for him were very nice, they couldn’t just replace that.

Around noon on the 12th day, the boy heard a commotion down the road, a few people were talking loudly, some cheered and some laughed. He assumed it was something good, and that he didn’t need to go hide anywhere, so instead he left the tent and decided to build a tiny sandcastle. Maybe Foolish would bring Junior or Finley again and he could show it off to them? He was almost done with the build when he heard someone approaching.

“Yogurt!” Fundy called out to him, and the boy stopped in the middle of fixing up a tower of his sandcastle. “I’m back!”

“Yeah! Look, it’s your dad!” Foolish called too, presumably just behind the man.

Did Yogurt feel happy, relieved? Of course he did, his dad was finally back, he was here and he wouldn’t leave again anytime soon… But at the same time, he felt strangely disappointed. Sad, even. The man said he’d be gone for a few days at most, and it’s been so so long since then, yet he was just running up to him as if nothing happened. As if he kept his word, his promise. That’s probably why Yogurt didn’t look in the direction of his voice, and instead went back to his build. It wasn’t unreasonable to be upset, was it? Soon, Fundy crouched down by his side and looked over the castle he was making while Foolish stopped on the boy’s other side.

“What are you making, buddy? Is this a sandcastle? It looks great!” his dad praised, and Yogurt did his best to stop his tail from wagging. With a pout, he continued making the castle. He’d ignore his dad until he apologized, that was the best way, wasn’t it?

“Did you make this all by yourself?” Foolish asked, also admiring his work. And Yogurt decided that since the man was the one to look after him, he could get an answer.

“Yeah!” he nodded, his pout getting replaced with a grin for a second.

“...Yogurt?” Fundy asked. “Hey, Yogurt, are you- Hey? Buddy? Can you look at me for a moment?” he tried to get his attention, and for a moment, the boy considered answering, but then Foolish snickered.

“Looks like I’m the dad now?” the man suggested. Yogurt laughed quietly at that, and his actual dad let out a dramatic gasp.

“What?! Yogurt, is that true?” he asked. Figuring that the man was playing along, the boy nodded before pointing at Foolish.

“Dad,” he announced, and Fundy gasped again, quickly getting to his feet.

“No, that’s-! I-” he stuttered out before seemingly collecting himself. “Fight me! Duel me! Foolish, duel me for custody!” he demanded, not angrily… just demanded.

“Sure,” the other man nodded. “Sure, we can do that,” he agreed, stifling a laugh. “When do you want to fight?” he asked.

“Now! Right now!” Fundy decided. Yogurt wasn’t sure how he hadn’t noticed what a great actor his dad was. “I don’t need to rest, let’s go now!”

“Are you…? Okay, sure. Come on, we can do that,” Foolish agreed, and with just a few steps, Fundy was in front of him. “Wait, here?”

“Hm…” the man hesitated. “No, let’s go… under the Eiffel tower! Let’s settle it there!”

And with that, they were off. Yogurt looked after them as they walked before returning to building his castle. Sure, he’d love to give his dad at least one hug before he’d go ‘duel’ with Foolish, but if he survived 12 days without that, 5 more minutes wouldn’t hurt. Because how long could a playful duel last? He hoped it’d take them just long enough for him to finish his build and look through the chests Fundy set up by the tent. They were mostly filled with materials to build their new house, but a few days earlier Yogurt spotted a nice flower growing between the desert and the sea and it was now somewhere with the items. It was meant to be a gift for when his dad would return, and it waited for the day for quite a while now, but the boy still wanted to give it to the man.

***

Fundy’s mind felt hazy, that was the best way to describe it. He was exhausted, he allowed himself to close his eyes just twice during his journey and had a nightmare both of those times. And as if that wasn’t enough to go through, he was now supposed to fight for his son. A sword in one hand and a shield in the other, he had to focus to keep his balance and come up with any kind of strategy, so he didn’t bother questioning the situation. Didn’t bother wondering why would Foolish try to do this, or how the strong bond he had with Yogurt could fall apart so easily. He just had to focus and win the duel, then he could rest.

His son was on the line.

The first time Foolish took a step toward him, his fight or flight instinct kicked in and the next thing he knew he was running. He stopped, no, he couldn’t do that. He returned to his spot and took a couple of breaths to calm down. His opponent laughed and asked if he still wanted to do the duel, as if Fundy had a choice. As if he could just step back and decide the fight wasn’t worth it. His grip on his sword tightened as he shot back a short confirmation. They agreed to fight until one of them surrenders, but he promised himself right there that he’d never do that. No, he’d win or he’d die fighting.

How was Foolish so calm about this? As if this was some stupid joke, and not…

***

Yogurt was already back in his tent, his castle long finished, when heavy footsteps in the sand appeared. He wasn’t all that surprised, his dad did seem tired while he left for the ‘duel’, he was probably barely awake now. He didn’t look at him yet, he was too busy putting the flower he prepared for him in one of the corners without making it too obvious. Before he could make sure it was hidden well enough, though, the man already spoke up.

“...Hey, Yogurt, I… I won the duel, I-” Fundy announced, and he didn’t sound just tired, but exhausted. His breaths were concerningly heavy, and he spoke slowly. “...Will you look at me now?”

The voice in which he said that immediately made Yogurt spin around. He sounded so sad, so tired, as if that was the only thing in the world that mattered to him anymore. The state in which the boy saw his dad was nowhere near what someone after a play-duel should look like. He was obviously injured, there was a cut running across his chest and some blood stained his clothes. Not a concerning amount, but it was still blood. With how exhausted he was on top of that, it was a miracle he was still standing. A miracle that didn’t last long, because almost as soon as his son finally looked at him, he tumbled to the ground.

“Oh, I- I’m so-” he tried to say while Yogurt quickly got to his feet and approached him. What happened? He’s never seen his dad so hurt before, what happened? “I thought I’d- I’d lose and you-” he tried to explain.

The boy finally put what happened together. He realized that his dad took the duel so much more seriously than he expected, that the man must’ve fought as if everything depended on it. And now that he won, and that his son finally looked at him again, he was just… barely holding back his tears. Yogurt’s ears flattened against his head as he felt oh-so-terribly guilty, he shouldn’t have ignored his father when he came back. He hesitantly stepped closer to the man and gave him the biggest hug he could. It usually helped, right?

“Dad,” he said quietly, his way of assuring the man that that’s what he saw him as.

“I- I’m so happy,” Fundy claimed, hugging his son back and rocking him gently to the sides. “M-my boy, my beautiful boy!”

And the child didn’t want to ever pull away from the hug. Once he did, to help his dad into the tent so he could rest, he spotted Foolish standing a bit from them, still on the road. He had a few scratches too, and the shield hanging loosely off the side of his hand had concerningly deep cuts. Yogurt quickly looked away from him and instead led Fundy to their ‘temporary home’. He helped him sit down on the blanket they set up before going to get the flower he previously put in the corner. It would cheer his dad up, surely it would.

“Dad?” he said again, getting the man’s attention. Even being called the title seemed to bring a smile to his face, but the boy still held out his gift.

“...Is that for me?” he asked, and Yogurt nodded. He carefully reached for it and looked it over, his smile only growing. “Thank you, it’s… it’s beautiful. Thank you, Yogurt. My boy. My child, my… oh, come here.”

He spread his hands for a hug, and his son didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around him again. Flower in his hand and his boy in his arms, Fundy allowed himself to finally relax. The next thing he knew, he was already lying down, his eyes closing on their own and Yogurt’s head resting against him as the boy muttered a goodnight despite the sun still being quite high in the sky. And Fundy shouldn’t sleep, he should do anything in his power to avoid the nightmares, but… just a short nap wouldn’t harm him, right? And he needed some rest after that duel for sure. He’d never understand why Foolish yielded after just a few seconds of fighting and despite not being too hurt, but he didn’t mind. He had his son. That was all that counted.

An hour or so later, Foolish came by, leaving a few healing potions by the tent before quickly backing away. Fundy slept through that of course, he’d probably sleep until the morning, but Yogurt watched the man until he was out of his sight. He wasn’t sure what happened during the duel, but Foolish certainly wasn’t his favorite ‘babysitter’ anymore.

***

Fundy was very reluctant to leave for another journey after that. Sure, someone would have to do it again and Quackity trusted him with that quest. Sure, going there helped with keeping him awake. Sure, his wounds healed nicely, especially with all the potions he found by the tent. Sure, he talked things through with Foolish and set everything straight. But still, what if… what if he had to go through all that again? What if he misunderstood something when he was back and exhausted, and it’d lead to another pointless conflict?

Yogurt was worried about his dad leaving too. He knew he’d never hold being gone for too long against him again, but he still didn’t want to be lonely. And while he too learned what happened during the duel, how Foolish surrendered the moment he realized how serious Fundy was, he still wasn’t sure if he wanted the man to be the one looking after him again. And who else could do that?

Eventually, Fundy had to start leaving again. He took that job upon himself and he couldn’t just back away from it. The goodbye he shared with his son was much more emotional now that they both knew how long a journey could take, he was convinced that the boy wouldn’t ever let go of him. When he finally left, he kept his hand in his pocket for the first few hours, gently holding the flower hidden deep inside of it. He left Yogurt in yet better hands this time, he spoke to basically all the citizens and they all agreed to check on his son every day, so he shouldn’t be as worried. Still, he couldn’t wait to come back.

Each time Fundy left, Yogurt was starting to accept it more. He missed his dad every time of course, but all the people taking care of him were still doing a good job with their new task, and he liked all of them for different reasons.

Purpled would always let him do what he wanted and he had a funny-looking dog Yogurt could play with after shapeshifting into a fox. Quackity would let him run around the casino if he promised to not damage anything, and if they weren’t there, the man would take him to his office and let him play with the shiny stones and items he stored there. Slime would tell him incredible stories about other citizens, his dad, people he barely heard of, and once they’d get bored of that, he could always do some funny tricks with how his body never seemed to be truly solid. Sam, if he ever had time to stop by the country and was put on ‘babysitting duty’, would gladly listen to anything Yogurt wanted to talk about, and they often just walked around Las Nevadas with the boy showing off all the things that seemed to pop up overnight.

And whenever Foolish ended up looking after him, he would often end up… inconvenienced. Sure, Fundy might’ve forgiven him for the duel thing, but it didn’t stop Yogurt from pulling some pranks. Nothing too harmful, of course, just some stupid things like water buckets spilled from not-too-high-up, or hiding for a bit the moment the man lost sight of him. Sure, it might’ve annoyed the man sometimes, but he still ended up laughing along after the initial shock. And it did give Yogurt a good opportunity to learn how to set up silly ‘traps’, so what was the harm in that?

No matter who was looking after him, though, whenever he’d as much as hear Fundy’s voice or footsteps, he’d drop everything and run in the man’s direction. Their reunions were always a good, happy moment, they hugged each other tightly and only let go when his dad remembered that he still had items to give to Quackity. Then, they would spend the rest of the day telling each other what happened while they were alone, Fundy talking about the breathtaking views he saw and dangerous situations he just briefly survived, and Yogurt recalling all the fun things he got to do while other people looked after him.

Fundy accepted the fact that he still made mistakes not long after his duel with Foolish. That no matter how long he spent with his son and how hard he tried, there would still be misunderstandings, mix-ups, and other issues. But each time Yogurt ran up to him cheerfully calling him ‘dad’, he was assured that it was okay. That they both learned from them, and that they wouldn’t repeat them. That no matter how many times he’d have to leave, he’d never come back to such a disaster again. He'd return to a happy home instead, and he wouldn't trade that for anything else.

#yogurtdays2021 #yogurt dsmp #c!fundy #c!foolish #yogurt dy #fundy #foolish gamers #my writing #dream smp #I had to look back at foolish's vod before writing it and man #the happiness noises after the duel was over got to me #also i am so proud of coming up with a way for that situation to make sense/take place in this fic even if it only meant angst

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imonthinice · 3 years

Text

The Criminal Psychology Majors, Jason Todd x Fem!Reader Part 17/?

Word Count: 3.8k

Author’s Note: Y/N - Your name.

So, when I started this, I didn’t expect it to become what it is, or for it to really be taken seriously. I wrote it because I wanted to get better at storytelling, and now I’m averaging 20 notes a day. That’s insane to me.

Warnings: Eludes to sex, mentions of trauma, mentions of court system, victim blaming, mentions of injuries, swearing, No beta bitch we die like Jason Todd

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9) (Part 10) (Part 11) (Part 12) (Part 13) (Part 14) (Part 15) (Part 16) (Part 17) (Part 18) (Part 19) (Part 20)

Waking up next to Jason was becoming something of a routine for Y/N. It had been 4 days in a row that she woke up next to him or with him in arm’s reach. She loved that about their relationship, how quickly they both could fall asleep with each other.

She rolled over in her bed and realized Jason was sweating and clutching the sheets. She leant over him slightly and turned on the fan, hoping he would sweat less so he could be in less pain.

She didn’t know what would actually stop the pain, she didn’t actually know if he was in pain. She reached out to stroke his back, just trying to comfort him, it seemed to work. He didn’t exactly reject her advances to rub his back. But he did jump a bit when she touched him.

She didn’t want him to be hurt by her touching him, so she did attempt to wake him up. He didn’t answer her though, so she got up from her bed and looked at herself in the mirror. She looked rough like she had been crying all night about the trial. Makeup running, eyes puffy, bloodshot. But what else did she expect after that trial? She didn’t remember anything.

She decided to shower, in her own shower. It had been 3 days since she last showered, which was okay but it wasn’t something she was used to.

She got into her shower and just thought. She was fucked up. She had been fucked up this entire time, she had hidden secrets from Jason, from everyone. She thought it was selfish, immature, and irresponsible that she did that. But she also didn't know how to talk to them all.

How do I even start that conversation? Hey, I’m fucked up, help me. I’m sorry, I messed up, she thought, I can’t do that, I can’t.

She got out of the shower and glanced at the clock like she would normally, it was 4:00am. That’s new, she thought, I didn’t know it was this early, maybe I should not have showered.

She smiled to herself a bit and took care of her face, doing a facial routine, just trying to calm herself and come off that high she was on for the majority of the day before. She knew she had to take care of herself to help her become stable again.

She knew what she did yesterday was linked to trauma, she just knew it. She didn’t know what it was, or how to combat it. But she knew she would probably not be mentally capable of watching the rest of the trial, and that was okay with her, she didn’t want to watch the rest of the trial. She would ignore her professor if he asked her to write anything about the trial. She knew he likely couldn’t because of her connections, but she wasn’t going to get mad at him.

She didn’t want to get mad at anyone for this. Opinions about the trial, asking her to talk about it, anything, she didn’t want to hate.

Jason was still asleep when she reentered her room. She smiled at him, wishing he was awake with her at that moment. She went to her notes at her desk and sighed, she guessed she would sit down and do some work. She pulled out her journal and wrote;

To each member of my family, somehow we reached here,

I’ve ended up with people wanting to hurt me,

Here we see the pain of there,

Maybe three.

I guess I can’t write poetry,

Maybe it’s all I see,

The pain, the torture, the people who hurt,

What am I doing?

She scribbled down a dying rose. She didn’t know why she did all of that. Normally she didn’t feel like that. Poetry was a good way to get all of the emotions out. Her journal had a lot, a lot, of insane writings and drawings of things she felt.

She guessed she was fucked up. But she thought the things wrong with her would make her art better. She needed therapy, probably. She was going to look into that, she decided in those moments. Therapy may help her cope with a lot of the stuff that she dealt with.

Or was she aware that she’d never be fixed?

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

She sat at her desk after making a quick coffee. It was still only 5:00am, and she was organizing her notes, just thinking. Maybe she’d paint something. Maybe she’d get a picture of the Wayne Manor Gardens and paint it. She just wanted something to fiddle with if she was going to be harassed if she left the house. She probably wasn't going to be able to leave the house for a while.

She was fine with that, she didn’t like it but she didn’t hate it either. She just wished for the trial to be over, even if the man was found not guilty of the charges.

And the longer the painting project, the longer she could spend locked away from the media. That was just all that she wanted, to walk away from the media while still keeping Jason.

He was still sleeping. She didn’t notice because she was so entranced in her own art, but he was struggling at that moment.

And then she noticed.

She got up and went to her bed and sat beside his head on the floor. She stroked his hair and tried to comfort him when he woke up.

“Hey,” she whispered.

He didn’t answer.

“You alright?” she asked.

He turned his back to her, so she stroked it.

“It’s okay if you’re not alright, baby,” she said, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

She crawled into bed with him and became the big spoon for a bit. She didn’t say anything to him, he didn’t say anything to her. He was sticky and sweaty, but she didn’t care.

Silence was killing for most people, but she sat through it and allowed him to be quiet.

She wished for the stories behind his scars, but she didn’t want to push for them. They hadn’t been together for long enough for her to ask about it. But she loved to trace his scars with her fingers, just letting him know she knew about them. She didn’t know how he felt about it. But she tried to be kind and loving towards his scars.

Some were small holes. Some were small lines. Some were long lines. One was Y-Shaped on his chest. One existed on his cheek and she couldn’t make out what it was.

She didn’t think that he was lesser because of his scars. He thought he was lesser for his scars.

“Hey, Jay. Do you want to eat breakfast? It’s 6:00am, we can dip to get food?” she asked, trying to make him feel better.

“If you don’t mention the nightmares, sure.”

“I won’t.”

He rolled over to her and smiled before kissing her.

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

They got up a couple hours later, clothes strewn across her room, boxers and pants torn. She laughed, hoping he would still have clothes to wear.

“Don’t laugh, I might have nothing to wear!”

“I hope you have something to wear, babe.”

“And what if I don’t? We were pretty messy.”

“We were, but still. If you have nothing we’re kind of fucked,” she said, glaring.

“Yeah, yeah. You’re cute. Just stop staring at me like that! It takes two to tango!”

“The forbidden horizontal tango,” she said between laughs.

“The forbidden horizontal tango is now the only way I am going to refer to sex.”

“I mean as you should.”

“My family is going to kill me for calling sex that.”

“I mean as they should,” she laughed, “Did you find clothes?” she asked, having already gotten dressed.

“Okay that’s unfair, you can’t wear new clothes when I’m stuck with ripped boxers.”

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t have worn them in the first place,” she said, laughing, “And to be fair, Jay, I’m the one with clothes and you didn’t follow your own suggestion for an overnight bag.”

“Okay, listen, first of all,” he grabbed her, “That’s obviously my fault but shush, secondly, you’re dressing very black today,” he observed.

“Felt I would look the part of dating a Wayne.”

“No one’s going to see you.”

“That’s the point. I’m an invisible partner of a Wayne.”

“Well, I think you look nice.”

“I’m glad,” she laughed, “How ripped are your clothes?”

“Decently. Not noticeably, but decently.”

“Fun! Shall we go?”

He laughed and grabbed her arm, pulling her lightly to the car and getting in to drive.

“You ever think the vigilantes around here have complex lives?” she thought aloud.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, do they have crazy, fulfilling lives like us, or are they just there to be heroes of the night? Are they sitting there wondering if they’re going to come home to their partners or if their parents are worried about them?” she questioned.

He sat there, looking forward. If only you knew. If only you knew what I go through, what everyone goes through. He managed to laugh and blow her off, “Maybe they’re just robots made to fight crooks in alleyways.”

“I’m serious. What if they’re all out there worried they’re going to die?”

“C’mon now.”

“Jay! They’re people!”

“They’re probably okay, baby. I doubt they’re out there almost dying.”

She wanted to say ‘You almost died’ but she bit her tongue, “That’s probably true. But it’s always something I thought, even when I lied in Metropolis with god damn Superman. I always wondered if he had a home to go to.”

“Who knows. Who knows.”

“They would. Maybe I should get a job as a reporter, interview some of them. Say ‘Fuck it’ and know if they have homes.”

“That’s dangerous.”

“How?”

“My Aunt, Iris, Barry’s wife? She’s a reporter. She’s on the frontlines for the supervillains and the small-time crooks of the world.”

“So anything and everything in between? Festive.”

“Well, that’s the life of a reporter. Journalists? Like my Uncle? He deals with a lot less bullshit unless they link him to Bruce. Iris is a reporter so she’s constantly there, Clark is usually never there.”

“Well, we at least know the elusive reporter and journalist have families,” she joked and he laughed.

“The elusive reporter and journalist in their natural habitats, my favourite National Geographic episode.”

She looked out her window at the streets and the people. She hadn’t been outside at night recently on the streets of Gotham, and she missed it. There was always something about it that made her keep coming back. Maybe it was the orphaned kids that she would go and make sure were okay. Maybe it was the fact that she watched one of the vigilantes swing to another roof.

She still remembered that moment well. She thought it was amazing, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for her to have experienced. She wished she knew more, even if she just knew which one they were. So she could go on the forums and ask if people had spoken to them. Maybe it wasn’t a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, maybe others had witnessed what she did, but she wouldn’t know if she did not know which it was.

“Hey, random question, do you know the vigilantes' names in the city?” she asked Jason.

“Uh, yeah? Why?” he responded.

“Okay so, the first night I walked home from your house after my car got towed right? I saw one of them. I’m not familiar with the vigilantes of the city, so: Do you know which one is the one with the blue bird symbol on their chest?”

“Oh, that one’s Nightwing. He seems cool, I don’t know, never actually met the guy.”

“Don’t Wayne Galas get attacked by villains on the regular though?”

“That doesn’t mean we get to talk to them,” he laughed, “It would be cool if we did, though.”

“Yeah it would. Would be a killer story for your Uncle and Aunt.”

“They are the only tabloids I liked because they leave us alone.”

“No reports from the Daily Planet about the Waynes?” she joked.

“God, Dad would probably half-jokingly sue Clark over that. Like sue him for 3 dollars or somethin’ levels of jokingly suing him.”

“Now, that, that would be a story for the tabloids.”

“Remind me to tell Dad about that, maybe it’ll get the press off your back.”

“You say that like your extended family cares about my trials.”

“They do, they wonder how you found yourself wrapped up in 2 crimes in the span of 2 weeks.”

“I wish I knew how I did that.”

He laughed, “If only we knew.”

“I guess we go get breakfast now, fast food?” he asked.

“Obviously, I’m not eating in a restaurant with this high of a profile recently, my god,” she laughed.

“Alright, anything in particular? I can just order for you if you’re not up to talking to some people.”

“Go for it.”

“Alright.”

She didn’t pay attention while he ordered, instead she opened her lovely cellphone. And there they were, the tabloids click baiting the trials she was involved in. She rolled her eyes, knowing most of them were wrong, when she saw the article written by Clark Kent about it. She was tempted to read it, to know what Clark said. She figured he’d be an unbiased source fo information, but also likely more on her side than the defendant’s side. She didn’t even know the defendant's name.

She tapped on it and began reading.

The Case of The Court Versus David Brown.

Brown is a man known to the courts of Gotham, and the county jail of Gotham. When he was accused of assaulting a young woman, Ms. Y/N (Last name), not many members of the Gotham Police Force were shocked.

On the first day of the trial, Brown was asked to plead, to which he said, “Not guilty, your honor,” which is under a lot of scrutiny of those who have seen the video of Ms. (Last name) running from Brown in the alleyway where she head-butted him.

The prosecution opened their case,

“Ms. (Last name) was assaulted by the defendant, there is no question about it. The question here is if his motive was for the ransom Ms. (Last name) referenced in her interview with police after the event. The defendant very clearly went after Ms. (Last name) because of her ties to the billionaire Bruce Wayne, who would have easily paid the ransom for her if she hadn’t escaped.

The defense opened their case,

The question of whether or not my client assaulted Ms. (Last name) is not up for debate, he did assault her. However, it was in self-defense. She had assaulted him first, pulling him into the alleyway and attempting to make advances on him. She twisted the story in her on words to include the head-butting incident, in reality, my client punched her for her advances.

The people who watched the first event of the trial have noted being “Disgusted” and “Annoyed” at the practices that the defense brought to court, “Slandering the name of Ms. (Last name) when she is the victim.” many people are upset with the defense in this trial.

The next day of the trial should take place within a week. Until then, the questions are not going to be answered.

She looked at the defense's argument numerous times. She was in shock that they would accuse her of such bullshit. She was terrified that they would get away with this, when Jason pulled her out of her thoughts with a coffee.

“You shouldn’t get so involved in the tabloids right now, love.”

“Sorry, if it makes you feel better your Uncle wrote it. And thank you.”

“Anytime. I guess Clark wrote it well, but you watched the trial?”

“I don’t remember it.”

“You’re probably not going to watch more of it, are you?”

‘No way,” she said while drinking her coffee as they drove back to her house.

“That’s fair. No one expected you to be able to be able ot watch it.”

She nodded and kept drinking, “They made up so much bullshit.”

“They did, oh my god, I was pissed, baby. I was so god damn mad. Because what the fuck do you gain from lying?”

“Don’t even put that question in the universe, you know they’ll try to answer it the next time they’re in trial.”

“God you’re right,” he laughed, “Got you a breakfast sandwich. At least the dammed tabloids can’t take that away from us.”

“Thank god,” she laughed, “Thank you.”

“Seriously, anytime. It’s worth it.”

“You’ve spent so much money on me.”

“Pocket change.”

“Well, duh. Trust-fund baby.”

“Ouch.”

“I’ll take you somewhere when I’m less high-profile. Maybe we’ll fake a breakup to keep everyone off my ass so we can go somewhere.”

“Fake a breakup? Wouldn't that just make you hated?”

“I’m already hated. I’m a gold-digger, a whore, a cheater, a statistic, a suicidal maniac, a homicidal maniac, a psychopath, I can go on and on about the shit being said about me.”

“Man, people need to keep their mouths shut.”

“You could say that again- don’t actually. But like, what the fuck did I do to deserve this, honestly? All I did was go on a date with you to get bombarded, yes, I do treat the press unfairly, but I do my best to never say a bad word about them publically, just jokes,” she joked, “I hate this,” she laughed.

“I hate tihs too,” he laughed, “You’re worth it though.”

“Oh man, a week into dating, two weeks into knowing each other and we’re here.”

“We should be anywhere else but in the midst of these terrible circumstances.”

“It’s unfortunate.”

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

Drinking her coffee on her bed with Jason beside her was something else, it was probably the most they had branched out in 4 days. The silence was lovely now that neither of them were having issues. They ate and drank in silence. They didn’t need constant conversation to prove that the enjoyed the presence of each other.

She took a minute to take it all in, the messy shelves in her bedroom, the place on her desk where her laptop belonged, the broken handle to her bathroom door, the sheets on her bed which had been pulled and ruffled from Jason and her having fun.

She looked out her window and looked at the rain starting to pour and decided to cuddle closer to Jason. He was warm but had a presence of underwhelming coldness to him, like he gave off fake body heat. She didn’t know what it was, but the extremes of his body were something she enjoyed but hated.

The exposition between his black hair to his white tuff of hair, the rough eyebrows to the small and delicate freckles, the blue of his eyes which seemed to glow green. The way it was like she was driving down a road, full speed ahead, and crashed into a wall, that was how it felt to be with Jason.

But who doesn’t love to die in a fiery accident into a wall at 500mph?

She laughed internally at her own joke about him before grabbing his hand and yanking him into the living room and past her roommate, A/N. A/N did not question it, because there was a new life to her roommate recently.

She dragged him out into the rain, to which he protested.

“What the fuck, respectfully?”

She laughed, “Don’t be respectful, and trust me. I’m going to make a movie moment.”

“I’m getting wet.”

“That’s my job,” she joked as she turned on a slow song before going to Jason and dancing with him.

“Well, can’t say I’ve done this,” he said.

“I don’t think most couples do.”

“Then why are we?” he asked

“Uh, yolo? You only live once, might as well dance in the rain with one of your lovers?” she retorted.

“One of them? Am I not the only one?”

“Oh no, you are,” she laughed, “But who knows, maybe we’ll fuck monogamy up the ass,” she joked.

“Probably not.”

And they danced for a few hours. Twirling and dipping in the rain. Watching the clothes they were wearing get more and more wet until the the white parts of Y/N’s dress were see-through, which took a while considering how small they were.

Their hair was soaked and her makeup was running but they didn’t care. They were having fun, and no one was going to stop them, not a villain, not a vigilante, no one. He would wipe away her makeup since it was basically already off her face and laugh.

“Your makeup looked nice before we came out here.”

“I bet! The rain’s probably washing it all way, did I look like I was crying?”

“You looked like you were sobbing.”

She laughed, “You love to see it, you really do.”

The music was basically drowned out by the rain. It was on her phone, so it was probably water damaged from the rain, but no one cared. They just wanted to have fun.

But the dancing got tired because of the fact that Y/N was in heels, so she went and picked up her phone. It wasn’t damaged. She looked at her recent texts while Jason tugged her lightly to the bathroom, to see that Bruce Wayne, Jason’s dad, had paid off her car and it was being driven back to her house.

“Hey baby?”

“Y/N?”

“Did you tell your dad to pay off my car?”

“Oh, yeah. I figured it’d get impounded and my dad could just wait a while for you to pay back. It getting impounded was going to cost you more money.”

“God you're right and I hate that.”

He laughed and kissed her before turning on the shower.

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

That was the second time that day that they had had sex. It was impressive that they had had sex that many times, and that many rounds. They thought it was fun as all hell to have sex whenever they had the chance.

Maybe they were saying “Suck it” to Bruce, or maybe they were just having fun. Maybe it was both.

“You look so cute with my hand around your neck,” he said behind her before lightly grabbing her neck and pulling her head back to his chest. He buried his face in her shoulder.

“He says while looking down,” she joked.

“I’ll squeeze.”

“Jay, we just showered. C’mon. Keep it in your pants.”

He groaned, “No fun,” he tilted his head into the crook of her neck and started leaving little kisses.

“Jay, C’mon.”

He sighed, “Fine. Fine, fine, fine. I guess we can stop,” he jokingly-whined at her, “At least we can kiss.”

“That’s true, but get dressed.”

“Get dressed!” he whined to her, “In this economy!”

“God dammnit,” she laughed, “Stay naked then and I’ll eat your food.”

“Don’t you dare.”

#dcu #dceu #dc #jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #jason todd fluff #red hood #red hood x reader #red hood x fem!reader #red hood x y/n #red hood x you #red hood fluff #male oc #female oc

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3pirouette · 3 years

Text

Fic: Hello, Darling (1/1)

Title: Hello, Darling By: TriplePirouette/3Pirouette Disclaimer: They're not mine. Distribution: AO3 Anyone else please ask first :)

Story Summary: Instead, he reached for his phone. He hit the only button that seemed to matter at the moment.

Her voice was warm. “Hello, darling.”

“Peg,” he sighed, closing his eyes. “Oh, your voice is just what I needed.”

Angst. Satisfies the Fake Dating a square for the Steggy Bingo Bash. AU, obviously.

A/N: Timeline is as close to sort-of right as I can make it for an AU. 2017 is post Civil War, 2016 is during Civil War, 2014 is during AOU, other time stamps should be self-explanatory. I hope this makes as much sense for everyone else as it does to me- this concept was a little hard to get on paper. I wrote this in about... 2 hours? Couldn’t sleep until I got this out of my brain. Also, I’m sorry. Please get some tissues. More AN at the end.

~*~ 2017

Steve flopped on the bed, wiping his forehead. They’d been training, hard, and he was drained. He and Natasha were spending their days whipping the new iteration of the team into shape and spent their nights sweet talking whatever government officials would listen to them while still trying to stay off the grid.

Their position in multiple areas was shaky, to say the least.

When he couldn’t sleep, which was most of the time, he wrote letters to Bucky, who was still in stasis in Wakanda. The letter writing was a calming ritual, and made him feel closer to his friend when he was doing it, but when he saved the letter instead of sending it, it left him feeling a little more alone than when he started.

He didn’t want to move tonight. He felt empty and exhausted and so very, very much like the small man he used to be on the rickety old bed.

He looked at the second-hand laptop, closed and charging on his desk, and turned away. He couldn’t take that feeling tonight.

Instead, he reached for his phone. He hit the only button that seemed to matter at the moment.

Her voice was warm. “Hello, darling.”

“Peg,” he sighed, closing his eyes. “Oh, your voice is just what I needed.”

Her voice was warm, and there was a smile in it. “Well, I’m just a phone call away, as always.”

“Yeah,” he replied, just a hint of sadness seeping through. He took a deep breath and shifted up on the pillows, closing his eyes and holding the phone tighter to his ear. “We were training again today.”

“How are they pulling together?” She asked, bright and interested. “Has Wanda gained more control?”

“Every day,” he replied quickly, a smile quirking at his face. “She’s more powerful than I think any of us were prepared for, even her. She’s still doubting herself, though.”

Peggy chuckled through the phone. “After what she went through, I’d doubt myself if I were her, too.”

Steve rolled to the side, pulling a pillow tight into his arms. “True.”

“Give her time,” Peggy soothed him. “Think about how long it took you to get the hang of your new body.”

He laughed out loud at that. “What, all thirty seconds or so?”

“I seem to recall you crashing through a store’s front window display fairly immediately.” Her laugh was like bells, light and happy. “Though that was followed by months of tests, followed by months of kick lines.”

Steve groaned at the memories. “The tights… and those boots.”

“I rather liked the tights,” Peggy flirted. “Though, the point of my mentioning, is that it took you rather a few months in the field to figure out you could lift a tank, and that became one of your favorite tricks. Give the poor girl some slack.”

“Actually, fitting my entire body behind my shield was one of my favorites.”

“I still don’t know how you do that.” She sighed. “But it is quite a trick.”

“She is getting the hang of it,” Steve relented. “It��s just been… hard.”

“I can hear the weariness in your voice.” She was soft and gentle. Steve closed his eyes and pretended he was wrapping himself around her. “Have you been taking care of yourself?” She sighed when he didn’t answer. “Steve…”

“I don’t know how…” he drifted off, changing course mid-sentence. “I’m tired, Peg. I’m tired of fighting and running but that’s… that’s all that’s left.” He rolled to his back, throwing his free arm over his head, some of the plaster of the wall of the old boarding house falling on his forehead. He wiped it away with a heavy groan of frustration. “Back then, I had so many plans. After the war…”

“We shan’t be going there, darling.” Her voice left no room for argument.

He was quiet for a moment, the emotion boiling up in him. When he finally spoke, his words were soft. “I miss you. I miss you so, so much.”

The pause was almost too long, and it broke him just a little bit more. “I’m here, Steve. Only a phone call away.”

He sat up, frustrated. “For a little while I had it- I had everything. I had you, I had Buck, I had new friends, and I could… I was…”

“You were almost happy,” she whispered. “We’ve said these words too many times.”

“I don’t…” He took a deep breath and let his head fall to his hand. “I don’t know how to move past it. I can pretend I’m ok, but… but I’m not.” He laughed to himself. “I wouldn’t be calling you if I were ok.”

“I’m here for you, Steve,” she replied sharply. “You call me when you need to call me, when you want to call me. Good or bad. I just wish… I wish there was more good.”

“Me, too.” He cleared his throat, sitting up. “Tell me something good, Peg.”

He thought he could hear a smile in her voice. “Pulling yourself up by your bootstraps, eh, Rogers? Well, then, I can tell you that yesterday I came across a very silly video of a sneezing baby Panda and no matter what your mood, I promise you’ll feel better if you watch it.”

He pulled the phone away from his cheek when it vibrated in his hand, the video popping up on his screen. He laughed, despite himself.

“You always know exactly what I need,” he mumbled out loud.

Her chuckle was soft, just like he remembered. “Lucky, I guess.”

“I love you so, so much, Peg.” He turned serious. “I wish… I wish I could see you.”

“I love you, too, my darling.” She replied softly. “And I’m only ever just a phone call away.”

He could feel the familiar pangs of depression swirling, and knew talking longer would do him no good. Not tonight. “I should… I should go.”

“Good night then, my love.” Peggy’s words were so full of love he could scarcely believe it. “Don’t wait too long to call again.”

He didn’t answer her, just nodded to himself. “Good night, Peg.”

He pulled the phone away from his ear, looked at it, and tossed it across the bed. Like his letters to Bucky, sometimes he felt worse after talking with her. He laid back on the bed, the springs creaking under him.

He wasn’t going to sleep tonight, not with the way his gut was roiling and the loss so close to the surface. Her voice was always a double-edged sword. Some nights, it was enough to bring him back to life, to remind him of whatever little purpose he felt he had left.

Sometimes, it was only filled with loss and the could-have-beens and should-have-beens.

Sometimes, he wished Tony had never given her back to him.

~*~ 1988

“Anthony, get this blasted thing out of my face.”

“Come on, Aunt Peg, no one is better at telling me what to do than you are.”

Peggy looked up from where she sat at the table in what was supposed to be a dining room, but was often used as an extended work space when Peggy and Howard had to pull long nights. “Under no circumstances.”

Tony pulled a chair up next to her and held out the tape recorder towards her. “Under all circumstances.” He started ticking it off on his fingers. “When I almost blew up the garage when I was eight. First time I got caught with a girl in my room. First time I got caught with booze in my room. First time I tried to create a jet pack. Who yelled at me? You did.”

Peggy pursed her lips at him and turned in her chair. “Concerned correction.”

He smiled, shrugging. “See? Concern, correction… all things I’m going to need in the future.”

Peggy swiveled back and picked up a file, eyes firmly set on the writing though she wasn’t reading anything. “Things you need now.” She didn’t look up. “Can’t you go badger Jarvis? Edwin has far more practice at humoring you.”

He laughed and smiled sweetly, moving the tape recorder in front of her. “Indulge your Godson in an experiment?”

“I seem to indulge you Starks far more than I’d like.” She leaned back in the chair and tossed the file back on the table. “Tell me about it.”

“Well, you see, I actually need you to tell me…”

~*~ 2014

Tony hadn’t looked at these cartridges in years. He pulled FRIDAY up and loaded her, knowing the program would make do for now. He could make some upgrades, and mourn Jarvis, later.

He ran his fingers over the last few cartridges as FRIDAY was integrated into his systems and found one that he hadn’t thought about in decades. It had been so long that the ink was almost faded completely away.

He didn’t need the label to remind him what was on there. He remembered each story, each lesson, each crisp English word with a sharpness that he liked to pretend didn’t exist. It was the only AI that was as old as Jarvis.

Tony laughed out loud. There was no way Ultron would have come to be if this was the AI he’d chosen to run his life with instead of Jarvis. She never would have allowed it.

She never would have allowed half of his shenanigans. She had been right all those years ago: Jarvis had always indulged him more. Aunt Peggy had no qualms about telling him, and often stopping him, when he was about to do something stupid, whereas Jarvis would give him an exasperated sir and follow behind, helping to clean up the mess.

He could have used some of her guidance so, so many times since he built that armor. Before, too, to be honest. He should have revisited her AI years ago.

He should visit her in the nursing home.

He knew exactly why he didn’t.

He flipped the cartridge onto his work desk and slid the rest back into their box to be stored. Save the world first, tongue lashing from his Godmother second.

~*~ 2015

The icon showed up on his phone one day without explanation. Two hours later the text from Tony was nearly as mysterious.

Click the icon and you’ll be routed to an update on an old project, kind of like a phone call. Totally sanctioned, of course. I think she’ll get a kick out of it.

When he told her one day in the nursing home, she laughed.

“That boy had me record hours and hours of tape,” Peggy smiled. “I wondered if he ever got around to making it. I would have rather liked to have another one of myself around while I was still running SHIELD.”

“So, you did know,” Steve asked, “that Tony made an AI of you?”

Peggy looked at him, her eyes sharp and disapproving. “Of course, I knew. And while I didn’t ever say it, I was quite insulted that he eventually chose Jarvis over me.” She sat up in her hospital bed, gray hair falling in waves around her face. “Dial it up, let’s see what he got right, shall we?”

~*~ 2016

He was still in his suit and tie, his cheeks puffy with the tears he only let himself shed in the privacy of his hotel room. The church had been hard, but letting the coffin settle into the cold dirt had been harder.

She was gone.

And he was alone.

He picked up his phone, intent on checking his flight for the morning when an icon he scrolled past daily caught his eye.

He rubbed his thumb over the edge of the screen, temped.

He checked his flight, but it was perfunctory and he couldn’t recall, by the time his thumb hit the other icon, if it was still on time or not.

Slowly he lifted the phone to his ear. He knew from the few times he’d called at the nursing home with her that there wouldn’t be a ring tone, and that he had to be the first one to talk. “Hello?”

“Steve?”

Her voice through the line was young and vibrant, the way her remembered it from all those years back: red rimmed lips and bright eyes in just the vibration of sound.

He lost his breath.

“I’m so glad you called,” her voice was happy, bright.

He’d just left her in the ground, and yet…

Yet…

“Peggy.” He barely got the word out, the emotion choking him.

“Are you alright, Steve?”

“No, I…” he couldn’t speak. He didn’t want to continue, but couldn’t tear himself away.

“I’m right here, Steve.” Her voice was warm and welcoming, like honey and home and everything he was missing. “Tell me when you’re ready.”

He was quiet for a moment. He contemplated hanging up and deleting the icon.

Instead, he spoke, his words broken and full of loss. “I miss you.”

Her voice wrapped around him through the phone, “And I miss you, darling. But I’m right here. I’m just a phone call away, any time you like.”

He nearly laughed the way her words warmed him. She was so real- had always been every time he talked to the AI.

But she wasn’t real- just an amalgamation of information Tony had stored for decades.

He held the phone away for a second, contemplating his choices. He wanted to walk away, but the loss was still so raw. He pulled the phone back to his ear.

Just for today.

He told himself he’d pretend just for today.

Over the phone, he could pretend she wasn’t dead. Could pretend she hadn’t aged and lived on without him.

Just for today, just until he could get past this pain, he could pretend.

“I guess,” he cleared his throat, trying to banish the thickness in it from the tears, “I guess I should call more often, then.”

“Absolutely. I will accept nothing less, Captain.”

He smiled and sat on the bed, tears falling from his eyes as he listened to her voice.

It was just for today.

~*~ End Notes: Saved this to the end to avoid giving this away. Deeply inspired by Hayley Atwell’s episode of Black Mirror, “Be Right Back.” If you haven’t seen it, you should.

#Steggy Fic #Angst #Steggy Bingo Bash #3P's Fic #Steggy #Cannon character death #fulfills the fake dating prompt only if you squint #but I couldn't get the idea out of my head

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bee-kathony · 3 years

Photo

I’ll Be Seeing You | Phillip & Eloise 1950′s AU

Phillip Crane places an advertisement in the newspaper seeking a tutor for his young children. He did not expect the beautiful Eloise Bridgerton to respond, nor did he expect to fall madly in love with her.

Ch. 1 “A Letter”

Cambridge, England | 1952

It was another dreary day.

The pitter patter of raindrops on the window pane was giving Phillip a headache. At least, that’s what he tried to tell himself. Truthfully, it was the pitter patter of small children’s feet running up and down the hall just outside of his office.

Phillip Crane was a terrible father.

He knew it, and so did his children, Oliver and Amanda. They were twins, aged nine, and lived to make sure Phillip’s heart rate was never at a normal speed. Of course, he couldn’t have been blessed with perfect children that behaved themselves, and sat quietly doing their schoolwork. No child was perfect — no adult was perfect for that matter. But, his children… they wreaked havoc on 113 Grantchester Meadows.

Marina Crane, Phillip’s wife had passed away several years ago when the children were young. Ever since then, it had just been the three of them. He hadn’t been very present in their lives, as he was a Professor of Botany at Cambridge University. Most of his time was spent in his offices at the school or in his greenhouse in the back garden.

His marriage to Marina had not been a happy one. Although, it had started out blissfully happy. Phillip had just graduated from university, and Marina was head over heels in love with him. He hated to admit it to himself, especially now, but Phillip had not been in love with Marina — not in the way it mattered.

Marrying her was the right thing to do, and he was looking forward to becoming a father. Of course, they were both young, but they were in it together. Phillip could only blame himself for not using protection that one night nearly ten years ago. He had been seeing Marina for three months before they first slept together.

Phillip thought he might be a better father, if he himself had had a better example. Growing up, Phillip’s father had been anything but present. And when he was around, his father beat him with his belt, yelling at him to be a better lad like his brother. So Phillip blamed his father for the way he was. Uncaring and selfish.

He wanted to be better for Oliver and Amanda, but he simply didn’t know how.

In the years following Marina’s death, Phillip had spent many restless nights blaming himself. She had been so unhappy after the children were born. Marina became quiet and withdrawn, helping with the children only when Phillip begged her to. When he thought of the three years following the twins birth, he should’ve known that something was wrong.

But it was also in those first several years that Phillip became a teaching assistant at the university. His days and nights were given to his career, and he just wanted to provide for his young family.

Phillip should’ve seen the small bottle in their bathroom and questioned it. He should’ve seen that Marina was growing more and more unhappy as the days passed. He should’ve been there when she took too many pills. And he should’ve been there for his children when they cried out for him in the night, screaming for their mother.

Shaking his head, Phillip sighed and leaned back in his chair. He would never be able to erase the guilt he felt about Marina’s death. Nor would he be the father his children needed him to be.

Which is why he tried to hire the best nannies for them, but his children terrorized each and every poor young woman. Whether it was frogs in their beds, or salt in their tea, each nanny practically ran screaming from the house.

No one wanted to take care of his children, he knew this. But what they did need was someone to help them with their studies. Being a professor, Phillip knew that he should be the one to sit beside them as they did maths, history and science, but he barely had the time.

Phillip opened the bottom drawer of his desk, pulling out a clean sheet of paper with his letterhead. What his children needed right now was a tutor.

Tutor needed for two children, aged nine. £1 a week. Contact Phillip Crane, 113 Grantchester Meadows, Cambridge CB3 9JN UK

It was a simple and straightforward advertisement, and Phillip prayed that it worked. He needed someone desperately to come and help his children. More than anything, he needed someone to help him.

He folded the letter and sealed it into an envelope, addressing it to the local paper enclosed with the funds to get it into print in the next edition.

Phillip rose from his chair, and ventured out into the hall. With the letter in hand, he intended to walk down the street to the post box, but his children had other plans.

*squish*

“What in God’s name?” Phillip looked down at his left shoe that had just stepped in something unidentifiable. Two small giggles could be heard from down the hall. “I guess nobody wants dessert tonight.”

“Wait!” Amanda shouted, and came running out of the hall toilet.

Oliver begrudgingly followed behind his sister, arms crossed over his small chest.

“I would ask what this is,” Phillip shook his foot, grimacing. “But I’m afraid I don’t want to know.”

“No, you don’t, father,” Amanda tried to cover up her laugh to no avail.

“If you want dessert tonight, then you both will clean this up by the time I return from the post box,” Phillip tried to be stern, but he just didn’t have the heart.

A better father would not bribe his children to clean with dessert, but it was the best he could do. Nothing else seemed to work with the twins other than incentives with sweets.

Phillip hopped his way down to the toilet and cleaned off his shoe, trying not to look too hard at what he had just stepped in. Thankfully, nothing had happened to his letter, and he left the house to post it.

When he returned minutes later, the mess was cleaned, and the twins were nowhere to be seen. Apparently, they really wanted dessert tonight.

Phillip couldn’t blame them for acting out. They barely had any guidance from an authority figure, and for the most part were allowed to run amuck. He had unknowingly created his own chaos.

Dinner would not be ready for another several hours, so Phillip elected to spend that time in his greenhouse. His own slice of heaven on earth. Well, his true slice of heaven belonged to his family’s country home several hours outside of London, but his backyard was a close second.

His one true passion was botany, and all things green. Currently, he was attempting to fatten up a strain of peas. Phillip skimmed the contents of his last journal entry before checking on the latest pods.

Not much change since the last entry, but he noted the height and circumference anyways.

Peace filled Phillip as he piddled around in his greenhouse, and as the plants embraced him, he was able to push away that voice of guilt and forget. In his greenhouse, he was not a widow, or a father. He was just a man. A man who was trying his best.

++++++

Two weeks later, Phillip arrived home to find his post sitting on the front table. Three times a week, a housekeeper came to clean and collect any mail. As he made his way to his office, Phillip grabbed the letters addressed to him. Bills, more bills and then a letter from an E. Bridgerton. Perhaps this was in answer to his newspaper advertisement. It had been a couple weeks, and Phillip had nearly forgotten about it.

Laying his leather briefcase on top of his desk, Phillip opened the envelope and pulled it out, skimming its contents.

I write to express interest in tutoring your children, aged nine. I have experience with young children, as I am the fifth child in a large family of eight. My education is mostly self taught, but I have recently begun attending university. I am available to begin work immediately.

E. Bridgerton

Phillip thought it odd that the writer did not sign their first name, instead opting for only an initial, but brushed it off. The writer came from a large family and had experience with young children. Surely this would be the most important part. He knew that anyone with a basic education could teach them, but it was how they could handle his children that mattered.

Pulling out another clean sheet of paper, Phillip wrote his response.

I would be glad to offer you the position of tutor for my children. They are difficult spirited, and eager to learn. Please come to the address enclosed next Monday at 9am.

Finally, he could breath a sigh of relief. His children would have a tutor, and Phillip could rest easy knowing that they would be shaped and molded while he molded the minds of university students.

++++++

As Monday arrived, Phillip watched the clock all morning. He was anxious to meet the man that would be the twins tutors. If he had just started university, then he would be young, most likely.

“What is the man’s name?” Oliver asked over breakfast.

“I don’t know,” Phillip shrugged. “He only signed the letter with his first initial.”

“That’s odd,” Amanda remarked, slurping her milk.

“Very,” Phillip agreed.

Just as Phillip took a large bite of his toast, a knock came from the front door.

“He’s here!” The twins shouted and jumped up from the table, running ahead of Phillip.

“Please don’t run,” Phillip tried to grab them, but they were too quick. He wondered how long the tutor would last. He gave him until the next day before he gave up, telling Phillip to send the twins off to boarding school.

“Can I open the door, father?” Amanda asked and he nodded.

Phillip was expecting a young man, perhaps he had even expected a man near his own age. What he saw in front of him now was most certainly not a young man, but a woman. A very beautiful woman with wavy brown hair and captivating eyes.

“Hello,” she smiled warmly. The woman offered her hand to Amanda who shook it excitedly.

“Can I help you, miss?” Phillip asked, looking behind her to see if the tutor was arriving.

“You are Phillip Crane?” The woman asked, holding a letter in her hand and a satchel in the other.

“Yes,” Phillip nodded, brows scrunched together.

“Well then,” the woman smiled again, nearly knocking him off his feet. “I am your new tutor. Well, not your tutor,” she laughed, a sound that filled him with warmth right to his toes. “Your children’s tutor.”

Phillip didn’t know what to say. The last thing he had been expecting was for a woman to be his children’s tutor. Not that women weren’t qualified… but he had just assumed the author of the letter was a man.

The woman bent down on her knees before his children, taking their small hands. Phillip wanted to weep at the gesture.

“You must be Amanda, and Oliver,” she smiled, squeezing their hands.

His children looked over their shoulders at him, waiting for him to speak.

Blinking, Phillip cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, Miss Bridgerton. I assumed that you were a man. But you’re a woman.”

“Yes,” Miss Bridgerton rose, offering her hand to him next. “Thank you for noticing. I’m Eloise Bridgerton.”

Phillip slid his hand into hers, nearly biting his tongue as a wave of electricity shocked his palm at her touch. Eloise. Eloise Bridgerton. Miss Eloise Bridgerton. This beautiful and lively woman had come to teach his children. Phillip didn’t know it yet, but Eloise Bridgerton would be doing much more than tutoring his twins. She would be the balm to his broken and fragile heart.

“Shall I come inside?” She dropped her hand from his, picking up her satchel.

“Of course,” Phillip flexed his hand beside his thigh. “Please, do come in. I’ll show you to the children’s nursery.”

Amanda and Oliver ran up the stairs, leading the way and Phillip escorted Eloise to the nursery where the children did their studies.

“This will do nicely,” Eloise grinned. “I assume that you would like me to begin this morning?”

Phillip nodded, captivated by the vibrant energy she radiated. He tried not to compare Eloise to Marina, but it had been so long since he had seen such life in a woman. Such joy and a thrill for living.

“I am running late for my class,” Phillip glanced at his watch. “If you need to reach me, I have left my office number on the table by the front door. I’m sorry we did not get a chance to properly introduce ourselves.”

“That’s alright,” Eloise smiled and pulled out a stack of papers from her satchel. “I expect we will get to know one another in the coming days.”

“Certainly,” Phillip nodded and then looked at his children, worry crossing his face. “Please do not burn the house down for Miss Bridgerton. Wait until I come back.”

The twins laughed, and Phillip sent up a prayer hoping that the house would still be in one shape when he returned.

As Phillip drove to the university, all his thoughts focused on Eloise. He wondered if she had only signed her first initial in the letter because she thought he would not hire a woman. Hoping he would not have allowed gender to come between his decision, Phillip thought he would have still hired her had he known. After all, it was her experience with young children that impressed him the most.

During his class on the anatomy of an orchid, Phillip’s thoughts continually drifted towards Eloise. Her bright smile has he answer the door. The glasses perched on her nose. The fitted sweater that hugged her curves. It had been a very long time since Phillip had felt any sort of emotion towards the opposite sex.

It was the more intimate thoughts of Eloise that Phillip was thinking about when he arrived home later that afternoon. For the first time in a long while, he was happy to be home, a smile crossing his face.

“Hello?” He called out, dropping his keys in a small dish near the door.

A loud thud could be heard from upstairs and he climbed the steps three at a time.

“Oh for Christ’s sake!” Eloise shouted, standing outside of the children’s nursery.

Phillip had expected the house to be in shambles, but he had never expected the sight before him. Eloise Bridgerton covered in flour — what he hoped was only flour.

“Miss Bridgerton,” Phillip gasped, walking towards her. “I am so sorry. You must please excuse my children’s awful behavior.”

He knew she wouldn’t last. His children were a menace to society. How could anyone, especially the bright Eloise Bridgerton put up with them?

Instead of stomping down the stairs and out the door in a rage, Eloise began to laugh.

“Are you alright?” Phillip reached out to her, his hand brushing against her flour covered arm.

Eloise only laughed more, and then the nursery door opened slightly. Two small heads poked out, looking entirely mischievous.

“It wasn’t our idea, father,” Oliver crossed his heart.

“I don’t believe that for a second,” Phillip ran his hand over his face. “You’ll apologize to Miss Bridgerton this instant!”

“No, no,” Eloise stopped laughing, her hand reaching out to clutch his arm. “They are telling the truth! It was my idea.”

“It was your idea to cover yourself in a bucket of flour?” He asked, confused.

“Well,” Amanda snickered. “It was our idea to cover her in flour, but then Miss Eloise suggested that we set the trap for you.”

“For me?” Phillip cocked a brow at Eloise, who’s cheeks blushed.

“Just a spot of fun,” Eloise chuckled, then had the decency to look embarrassed.

Phillip truly didn’t know what to say. Disciplining his own children was one thing for their mischief, but he couldn’t very well punish Eloise. If he wasn’t so shocked, he might have just laughed.

“Children,” Phillip said. “Please clean up this mess. I need to have a word with Miss Eloise.”

Surprisingly, the children bent down to scoop up the flour into the bucket that had been perched on top of the nursery door. They probably didn’t want to miss out on what Phillip was going to say to Eloise.

He pulled her aside, his hand on the small of her back.

“I must apologize for my children,” Phillip smiled briefly. “I would say they know better, but it’s just their nature to cause chaos.”

“As it is mine,” Eloise smiled, wiping the flour from her eyes. “I assure you, it was all my idea. But as I was setting the bucket on top of the door, I sneezed and it came tumbling down.”

Phillip looked at her curiously.

“I thank you for hiring me,” Eloise took a deep breath. “I’m sorry for the mess I caused, and I do not expect you to give me a reference since I have worked not even a day!”

“A reference?” He asked. “Do you think I’m firing you, Eloise?”

“Well, yes,” she shrugged. “I’m covered in flour, and I plotted with your mischievous children.”

“Did they do any learning today?”

Eloise nodded. “We covered geography and maths today.”

“Then you have done what I hired you to do,” Phillip smiled. Without thinking, his hand reached out to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing across her bottom lip, caked white.

“You will allow me stay then?”

“I would be a fool to let someone like you go,” Phillip smirked. “I know my children are difficult to handle. If they let you in on one of their pranks then that means they like you.”

“Very well,” Eloise smiled widely. “I will return at the same time tomorrow!”

She turned then, a cloud of flour following her. Phillip saw her to the door, and once she was gone, he let his head fall on the solid wood. What had he just gotten himself into?

#philoise #phillip crane #eloise bridgerton #phillip x eloise #bridgerton #bridgerton fic #bridgerton fanfic #i'll be seeing you #1950's au #my fic

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marveloussupernerd · 3 years

Note

Okay. So I just watched the Hunger Games and was wondering what the RFA+V+Searans reaction would be to MC having to fight in the games? That would be so scary and sad.

I LOVE THIS REQUEST also I’m adding Vanderwood too oops

You Get Picked for the Hunger Games - RFA + Minor Trio

Important Note: if you’d like any of these written in a more in-depth one or two shot I’m begging you to request it I love this prompt so much. That’s why I didn’t write about the actual games happening :) hoping maybe someone may want a pt2 of any of these

Warnings: mentions of death, killing, a lil angst

Zen

You were in District 7, the lumber district

You and Zen had been together for years

You liked to spend time in the forests together, getting a little peace from the real world

More aptly out, you liked to climb the trees together and spend the day in them; you would all day if you didn’t have to go home to help with your younger siblings

“I’m so sick of the games,” you grumbled. The reaping was today, where the tributes would be picked. “At least its our last year in the poll to be picked.”

“Thank goodness.” He agreed, leaning forward to place a kiss on your lips. “Then we can finally get married and start a family.”

You giggled. “We have to take care of my siblings too”

He shrugged. He’d do anything for you

When they picked you, your heart stopped

Nobody volunteered; they usually didn’t in 7

As the lady went to pick for the boys, you scanned the crowd for Zen

Shaking your head vigorously. He couldn’t volunteer

You felt like you were going to cry or die of anticipation

He understood

It killed him inside but he didn’t volunteer

You got to meet with him to say goodbye before you were off to the Capitol

“Zen,” you whimpered. He pulled you in for a tight hug

“Take care of my siblings. Okay?”

He nodded. He was at a loss of words for the first time ever

Then he inhaled deeply, fishing in his pockets and pulling out a small copper band

“Put this on and we’re married. I don’t care if that’s not how it works. I can’t have you leave without marrying you first.”

You took it wordlessly

“Your family is mine now. I’ll take care of them. You focus on coming back home.”

You wanted to cry. “Don’t... don’t let them watch me die, Zen.”

“You’re not going to.” He was crying now too, despite the confidence in his words

“Promise me though. If I’m going to die don’t let them watch.”

He sighed. He didn’t want to even consider that

“I won’t.”

Yoosung

You were in district 11, the agriculture district

Yoosung’s family lived on the farm next to yours

You had been close friends your whole lives

When they picked you

Well, you had put your name in a few extra times to get more food for your family

It shouldn’t have been a surprise

Nobody volunteered. They never do.

They made you sit in a room while you waited for the train

Your family could come say goodbye if they wanted

You were surprised to see Yoosung

“This wasn’t supposed to happen” was all he could say

You frowned

You weren’t confident in your chances

“I- everything was supposed to be different. I was going to tell you I loved you,” he whispered, his voice so low you had to take a minute to process what he had said

“You do?” You asked

“I do. First Rika and now you? I- I can’t...”

Rika had been picked two games ago and was killed

“I’ll just have to win then,” you said, more determined than before

“You- oh?”

“I love you too Yoosung. I’ll just have to win for you. So you don’t have to lose us both.”

He wrapped you into a hug

“I’m holding you to that. You promise me you’ll come back to my arms safely.”

You chuckled. “Okay. I promise.”

Jaehee

You lived in district 6, the transportation district

It was no secret to those in your district that you and Jaehee loved each other, as more than friends

It was nice that you lived in such a progressive district that they understood that

Volunteering wasn’t normal in district 6

But when you heard them call Jaehee’s name...

You wouldn’t let her die in the games

“I volunteer as Tribute.”

The crowd was silent

They all knew

The Peacekeepers pushed Jaehee back into the crowds, escorting you to the stage

She was sobbing

And then she passed out

“A volunteer! How exciting. Why did you volunteer for that girl?” The lady asked you

“Because I’m in love with her.”

“Oh!”

The Capitol would eat that up

You didn’t even get to say goodbye to her

The Capitol wanted a show. And the show was better if you didn’t get to say goodbye

“So you have to win then. Win and go back to her and steal her heart. Her hero. Her savior,” Caesar had said in his interview with you

You’d have to win then

Jumin

Being from district 3, the electronics district, meant that you and your families were much better off than most other districts

Jumin came from one of the wealthiest families in the district

He probably was even more wealthy than some of the people in the Capitol

He could buy anything, right?

But he couldn’t buy you a ticket out of the games

“Listen to me.” He sat down across from you, as he met with you before you had to leave to head to the Capitol for the games. “You’ll win.”

“I- how?”

He had the smallest curve of a smile on his face. He was confident.

“I’ll sponsor you. Anything you need, you just say it. I’ll buy it and send it your way.”

It was true that district members could sponsor, they just usually didnt

But this time, he was invested

“I have a list of all the things I can send you. Food, water, medicine, bandages, weapons, rope, anything you want. I can even send you a teddy bear.”

“Please don’t send me a teddy bear. Only important things. Those are expensive.”

“I have money.” He cupped your cheek. “I’m going to make sure you win. I will do anything in my power to do so. If I go broke, okay. You’re so much more important than money.”

“I’ll try my best to make sure I don’t need to ask you for things.”

He rolled his eyes. “You’re so stubborn. Let me help you. Don’t get into fights intentionally. Just outlive the others. I’ll send you food every day for weeks if it’s what it takes.”

It was time for you to go

He pulled you into a quick, heated kiss. “Anything, My Love. I promise.”

707

You were from district 5, the power district

The games were not big in your district. You had a few victors but people mostly dreaded them

So it wasn’t surprising that when you were picked nobody volunteered

There was no way you could win

You were weak. You had seen the other tributes picked in district 1 and 2 today

You were lucky if you’d survive the first day

You had zoned out the rest of the Reaping ceremony

Until...

“I volunteer as tribute!”

He didn’t.

But he had

Once you both got on the train, you were ready to confront him

“Seven!” You yelled. “Why! Why?” You were hitting his chest. You were so mad at him. “Why would you do this?”

You were breaking down

He just pulled you close, hugging you

“I’m going to make sure you survive”

There could only be one victor

He knew that though. Didn’t he?

“My home life sucks anyways. Sacrificing my life for you is the best thing I could ever wish for.”

You were sobbing. He seemed oddly okay.

He would make sure you’d survive

You were from district 8, the textile district

V’s work with the textiles and art was so good that once he had passed the age where he would have been pulled for the hunger games, he was invited to the Capitol to be a stylist

You thought you’d never see him again

Until you were picked

And then there he was

With his hair dyed bright blue to fit in with the people at the Capitol

A stupid smile on his face as he got scissors to start shaping your hair for the event tonight

“You seem awfully happy,” you said smugly. You were going to die and he was grinning. He had become a stupid member of the Capitol after all

“I get to see you again.”

“I’m going to die,” you said simply

He shrugged.

Just shrugged.

“I actually have a plan.”

Oh?

He leaned close to you to whisper in your ear

If anyone found out, they’d have him killed

“I have a way for everyone to think you died in the games, but for you to stay living”

It was a big risk

But you wouldn’t say no to the chance of staying alive

Of course he wasn’t upset

He had a plan.

Saeran

You were from district 2, the weaponry district

District 2 was a part of a group called the careers in the hunger games

Basically districts 1, 2, and 4 trained their teenagers to enter the games and win

They were unstoppable

You had trained as well, of course

But you weren’t like some of your crazy classmates who wanted to enter the games

They wanted to enter, until they heard about the twist for this year’s games

Every 25 years there was a special twist to make it more interesting

Every 3 hours a tribute would be randomly killed off

More aptly out, they put a bomb mechanism inside you and you explode

You couldn’t train to beat that

So it was no surprise that nobody volunteered to take your place once your name was picked

Saeran was fuming when he met with you

He had been training to become one of the Capitol’s soldiers, a Peacekeeper, as most men in 2 did

But he had lost all respect for them and the game

“This is stupid and unfair. What’s the point of them randomly killing people off? It’s supposed to be a fight to the death. This is just random chance.”

“I agree with you. But there’s nothing we can do. I’ll just try to kill people as quick as possible before they even get to explode someone.”

“No.”

“No?” You questioned

“This is bullshit.” He grabbed you by the chin to look up at him. “I’m taking down the Capitol. They can’t do this to you?”

“Saeran, don’t.”

He had an evil grin

“I already have a group to do it with.”

Vanderwood

You were from district 12, the coal mining district

Vanderwood was always a sort of enigma to you

That’s why you were so interested in him

And he was absolutely infatuated with you

Nobody had ever volunteered in 12 before

So when you got picked, you were stuck

Vanderwood didn’t volunteer. Why would he? Why would he get himself killed like that?

You almost though he wasn’t going to visit you, that all your time together was just him messing around

And then he busted in

“Hurry Babe”

“Hurry what?” You questioned

He grabbed your arm and pulled you to follow him, running through the halls. Where were the peacekeepers?

“I’m getting you out of here. We’re running away”

“To where?”

He laughed, still running. “The woods. We’ll figure it out. We’re not following those bullshit rules.”

“If we get caught, we’ll be killed.” You were afraid to defy the Capitol

“If you stay there, you’re as good as dread. We’ve had one victor from here, yknow? Your chances aren’t good. Let’s run.”

#mystic messenger #mysme #hunger games #au #headcannons #Jumin han #Yoosung kim #zen #v #Saeran choi #707 #Jaehee kang #Vanderwood

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mldrgrl · 3 years

Text

Broken Things 5/24

by: mldrgrl Rating: varies by chapter, rated R overall See Chapter 1 for summary and notes

It’s getting on to be twilight when Mulder sits down in the big chair on his porch and looks out towards the orange and pink sunset. The crickets are loud tonight, but not loud enough to interrupt his thoughts. He can’t believe not even a full day has passed since he’s met Katherine and it already feels like she’s always been on his mind.

He wonders if he’s in love with her. It shouldn’t be possible, but it just might be. He’s never been in love before, but he was almost engaged to be married once, a long time ago. He thanks his lucky stars that his aunt was still alive back then and sat him down and flat out told him that a woman like Diana Fowley would never make him a satisfactory wife. He’d been hurt at the time thinking that his aunt didn’t trust his judgement, but later determined she was probably right when he’d revealed to Diana his hopes for the future and she’d laughed at him, called him a silly boy, and told him that when they were married he’d be too busy providing a comfortable lifestyle for her to be so imaginative. He’d promptly put his mother’s ring back into the safe deposit box in Boston he’d took it out from, and the following year, when Auntie died, he’d used part of his substantial inheritance to move west and to start the ranch he’d been dreaming about.

Katherine is in no way like Diana, and he is glad for that. Though he doesn’t know much about her, from what he does know, she’s strong and kind and quick-witted. Not to mention, quite striking. He knows that he would hang the moon for her if she asked him to. Yes, he might just impossibly be in love.

“Daydreaming about the little lady?” Melvin asks, crossing in front of Mulder and taking a seat in the empty chair beside him.

“Should we call the ophthalmologist in to look at your eyes? It’s damn near midnight.”

“Maybe an ear doctor to check your hearing, the clock struck nine just before I come out.”

“Thought the only clock you paid attention to was the rooster.”

“I just said that so’s you don’t feel bad for bustin’ my pocket watch that time.”

“Melvin, I told you I would buy you the finest pocketwatch this side of the Brazos and you turned me down.”

“Bah. I don’t need no pocket watch. It was just for show to make me appear a gentleman. I would like to know if’n the lovely Katherine might be coming back to visit us soon.”

“If you haven’t frightened her away.”

“I rode on out to Old Man Goodwin’s sodhouse like you ask before you left. You could knock that place down with a feather if’n you ask me.”

“I don’t know how she was living out there, Melvin, I truly don’t.”

“The pump was in good shape and the stove was in working order. ‘Bout the only things that weren’t busted in some way.”

Mulder sighs, closes his eyes and tips his head back. “Do you believe in love at first sight, Melvin?”

“You know I do. Are you saying you love her?”

“I can’t say for sure, but I know that I already can’t wait to see her again. I’m also anxious about how she’ll answer my proposal.”

“Scared she’ll say yes, or scared she’ll say no?”

“Both, maybe. I don’t want her to turn me down, but I’m a little afraid of disappointing her if she says yes.”

“Why? ‘Cause she might get tired of lookin’ at your ugly mug every morning for the rest of her life?”

“I’m under the impression that she’s been mistreated in her previous marriage.”

“Well that much is sure to be true. You could tell just by the looks of ‘im Jack Willis was meaner than a two-headed snake.” Melvin tuts softly and shakes his head. “You recall how skittish George was when you took him from that idiot fella that was beatin’ him in the street that day?”

“Of course.” Mulder nods and then turns his head towards his friend. “I don’t know where you’re going with this analogy and I know it’s been at least a century since you’ve been of courting age, but in case you’ve forgotten, a woman is not a horse.”

“When you brung him in you said all we need is three things. Patience, patience, and patience.”

“I said that?”

“You sure did.”

“Then I’ll spend a few months avoiding eye contact, talking sweetly, scratching her shoulders, and going for long walks around the corral and everything will be fine.”

“Don’t forget to keep a hunk of sugar in your pocket.”

Mulder chuckles, but his smile fades quickly. “What if she says no?”

Melvin rubs thoughtfully at his goatee. The crickets are the only ones to answer, but they’re not much help.

↭

Katherine lays awake, quietly staring at the ceiling. Her fingers slide against her thumbs in an unconscious reflex, pushing and pulling phantom rosary beads. The last time she spoke a word to Jack Willis it was to call him a lying bastard when she’d found out he’d sold the beads, the one thing she’d begged him not to take from her. She’d said nothing when he sold her wedding ring, nothing when he’d sold their mules, nothing when he’d sold her good dress and hat. The beads were unforgivable.

Her thoughts turn to her wedding day to Jack and how her mother had whispered ‘God is punishing you, and now you will accept your penance and pray He forgives you’ into her ear before coldly pressing the rosary beads into her hand and pushing her towards the church door. She hated those beads, thought of them only as her cross to bear, yet every night she still prayed for forgiveness and salvation. Every night she said her Hail Mary and her Our Father and her Glory Be. Every damn night and all she’d seen was God’s wrath and not his love. When Jack stole the beads from her it had felt like he’d stolen her prayers right along with them.

It’s funny that Mr. Mulder should have asked her if she believed in fate this morning when he’d asked her to marry him. She’d been thinking about God’s plan for her for most of the last four years and while she will never have an answer, she can’t help but think, what if God has sent Mr. Mulder to her, particularly in her hour of need? But, if his knock on her door was purely coincidence and not divine intervention, what then? Is this proposal she’s received an answer to her prayers, or is it just her lot in life to always be beholden to some man?

She wants to believe that Mr. Mulder is a good man, and from the stories Susannah has told her, it seems to be true, but she knows from experience that wolves often appear in sheep’s clothing. If not for him though, she’d be spending another night on a broken-down bedstead, hungry and anxious for what the future holds.

She knows she is at a crossroads now and she must make a choice. This was not how things were supposed to go for her. She had ambitions and hopes and why is it that one mistake could have taken everything away from her?

She refuses to feel sorry for herself. She presses her lips together and orders the tears she feels creeping up on her to stay back. She has not cried for herself in four years and she will not start now.

She closes her eyes and makes the sign of the cross. “I believe in God, the Father Almighty, Creator of Heaven and earth,” she whispers, sliding her index fingers against her thumbs.

#i wrote this #broken things #chapter 5 #AU #MSR

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likeahorribledream · 3 years

Text

The One That Got Away

Chapter 3: One True Love

Summary: Bucky and Charlie bond over their mutual love for litterature, opening a little bit more of themselves to the other.

Word Count: 5.7k

TW: Fluff, so much fluff.

Summary | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

Bucky and Charlie could have stayed on the phone for hours without getting bored or tired but Charlie’s mom needed to use the phone and made her hang-up after an hour of them talking.

Bucky seemed better than when she left him that afternoon but she was still worried about him. She wondered if he had told Steve yet, or if he was waiting until it was official. He clearly wasn’t taking the news very well and Steve would only be excited, hoping he would get drafted too when the moment came.

Charlie spent the rest of her night thinking about Bucky and what she could do to help him. From what the soldiers had said, they still had two months before they would start drafting men and she was determined to make the most of it.

She woke up the next day feeling a little bit anxious and nervous for her friend. Charlie had a habit of taking on other people’s problems and making them her own. Friends and family had told her on multiple occasions to be careful, that it wasn’t her responsibility to help the whole world but that was who Charlie was, at least she was trying to do something to help.

It was Thursday, and on Thursdays Charlie would be in the back office working on updating all the patients’ files that hadn’t been updated throughout the week for a lack of time. She was thankful for that, her thoughts being anywhere but at work. She had asked the woman who took her place at the front desk to let her know if Steve came in at some point during the day.

She spent the whole morning listening to music on the radio while slowly working her way through the files that had piled up during the week. Most people hated updating the files but Charlie loved it. It allowed her to catch up on the patients, sometimes wondering what had happened to them and it was a lot more relaxing than being with the patients. As much as she loved being with them, she needed some time alone from time to time. A small break from all the action.

When noon came around, Charlie had just finished updating a file and thought it was the perfect time for a break. She took the time to clean up her desk, knowing that if she didn’t do it now she would put it off until the end of the day and then curse herself for it. After making sure that everything that was done was put away, she walked out of the small office and closed the door behind her, locking it.

She went to the break room to get her lunch, walking in she saw that most nurses and doctors were sitting down at the large table and there weren’t any seat left for her. She grabbed her brown paper bag containing her lunch and decided to go eat outside, it was a nice sunny day might as well enjoy it, she thought.

When she walked outside, it took a few seconds for her eyes to adjust to how bright the sun was shining. The office where she had been all morning didn’t have any windows and she had gotten used to the darkness. After blinking a few times to get her eyes into focus, she noticed a familiar face waiting for her in front of the clinic.

Bucky.

She panicked. Was something wrong? Did she forget that they had made plans?

Bucky, seeing her confusion, smiled and approached her.

‘’I hope you don’t mind. I thought we could eat together again today.’’ He smiled, shyly.

Charlie felt relief wash over her and allowed herself to smile back.

‘’I would love to.’’ She grinned.

She took a moment to look him over. He looked a lot better than he did yesterday, his eyes had that spark she loved so much again.

‘’D’you want to go back to the diner?’’ He asked, no specific plans in mind.

Charlie looked at the diner across the street and then looked down to the sad little paper bag she was holding, a soggy sandwich waiting for her at the bottom of it.

‘’Sounds a lot better than the lunch I was about to have. Just give me a minute, I’ll go put it back.’’ She raised her hand that was holding the bag and gave it a sad look.

Bucky laughed and nodded, letting her know he would be waiting right here.

Charlie made her way inside, all the way to the back to the break room and put her lunch back. She’ll just save it for tomorrow. She quickly made her way back outside, this time her eyes getting used to the light a lot quicker and she smiled at Bucky.

‘’Let’s go.’’ She said, walking towards Bucky.

She had almost reached the street to cross, no cars in sight when she felt a hand grab her wrist and slowly pull her back. She turned her head to look at the hand holding her and stepped back. She was confused as to why Bucky had held her back, it had been safe to cross the street.

‘’Is everything ok?’’ She looked at him, concerned. He was frowning and looked nervous.

He was biting his lower lip, just like Charlie did when she was nervous. He pulled gently on her arm, bringing her closer to him while walking towards her, closing the distance between them. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and hugged tightly, just like he had done yesterday.

It only took a second before Charlie realized what was happening, wrapping her arms around his waist and hugging him right back. Bucky was taller than her and she loved the height difference when they hugged.

She let her head rest on his chest, waiting until he let go before stepping back and looking at him.

‘’Feeling better?’’ A small smile forming on her lips, seeing the red flush his cheeks.

Bucky hadn’t planned on hugging her. Being close to her reminded him of the hug they had shared yesterday before she had to go back to work and how calming it had been. He wanted, and needed, to feel the calm again. Without even thinking about it he had grabbed her and before he knew it she was snuggled tightly in his arms.

He felt a lot more calm but he was also embarrassed by what he had just done. He wasn’t really the hugging type, especially not with people he barely knew but there was something about Charlie that made him want to be vulnerable. Like he could bare his soul to her and she would heal every little piece that needed healing.

He looked at her for a few seconds, still not over what he had just done and blushed. She looked at him with such warmth and concern that his embarrassment quickly dissipated.

‘’A lot better.’’

He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and together, they crossed the street to their new favourite spot.

The next day, exactly at noon, Bucky was waiting for her again. This time he had brought his own little paper bag and together they sad on the grass under a tree to hide in the shade.

They spent the entire lunch time talking, sharing some of their lunch with the other.

After the whole Wednesday incident, they had gotten closer. The only person he trusted when he felt vulnerable was Steve and now Charlie had seen him in a very vulnerable moment and the way she reacted to it just made him trust her more.

Charlie quickly learned that once Bucky liked you, he really liked to touch. He was hugging her a lot more often, when they were walking he had one of his arms wrapped around her shoulders, whenever she had to walk in front of him he often had his hand on the small of her back, letting her know he was still there.

At first, it made her blush a lot. She wasn’t used to that kind of attention from men. She quickly learned to love it, looking forward to his hugs. She found herself leaning into him automatically when they were walking, almost he sync with the movement of his arm being wrapped around her.

It was crazy to think that in as little as 48 hours they had gotten so close. It was just so easy for them to be comfortable with one another.

They had finished their lunch, Charlie was picking up their leftovers to throw them in the garbage can out front. She walked back to Bucky and sat next to him.

‘’You should come over tonight.’’ She said, turning her heard to look at him. ‘’I want to show you my book collection.’’

Bucky nodded.

‘’Books, uh? Count me in.’’ He grinned. ‘’What time is your shift over? Should I just meet you back here and then we can walk together?’’

‘’That’s perfect. I’m usually done around 4. If I’m not outside you can come in, it shouldn’t go past that. That’s when the night shift starts.’’

Bucky stood up, holding out both his hands in front of her. She put her hands in his and let him help her get up. She used her hands to straighten up her dress, sitting on the grass with it hadn’t been a really good idea.

‘’I’ll be here at 4, then.’’

It was time for her to go back to work, Bucky walked to her and hugged her, once again. He was still a little bit hesitant, so far it hadn’t looked like it was bothering her but he promised himself that if there was any sign from her that he was making her uncomfortable, he would stop immediately. Little did he know that he didn’t have to worry, Charlie loved his hugs as much as he loved hers.

‘’I’ll see you later, James.’’

‘’See you later, Lily.’’ He watched her walk back inside and made his way home.

After her lunch break, Charlie made her way to the back office and finished the work she had started the day before. It was a slow day and there were enough girls to cover the front, nurse Jones suggesting to Charlie that she could continue updating the files if she wanted. An offer that she gladly accepted, needing the calm. Plus it was Friday and she loved Fridays because it meant that she would leave work earlier than the rest of the week. It was shaping up to be a good day.

The last 3 hours of her shift went by painfully slow. She kept looking at the clock on the wall in front of her, every time she thought 10 minutes had gone by she would look up to realize that it had barely been 2 minutes since the last time she looked. She was excited to show Bucky all of her books and spend time with him which made working feel like a nuisance.

Looking up only to notice it had barely been 5 minutes since the last time she checked, she let a groan escaped her lips and she fell back into her chair. She covered her face with both her hands and sighed. She usually didn’t mind being at work, but today was not the case. She got up and walked over to the wall, bringing her chair with her. She climbed on it and grabbed the clock that had been driving her crazy. Stepping back, she placed the clocked face down on the ground and walked to her desk with her chair, moving it to its original place and sitting down.

‘’Okay Charlie. You need to focus now.’’ She told herself, out lout, as if it would help.

It strangely did. The rest of the afternoon went by a lot faster. The first few minutes after taking down the clock, she had the urge to walk over to it and look at the time but fought against it and finally won. She focused on her work, never bothering to look up again, until she heard a small knock on her door. Taking her attention away from her files and to the door, she told them to come in.

She was surprised to see the man in charge of the night shift looking back at her once the door had opened.

‘’Miss Mathews, your shift ended 10 minutes ago. What are you still doing here?’’ He looked amused.

Charlie jumped up from her chair, panicked.

‘’Is it really 4:10 already?’’

The man only nodded as an answer and couldn’t help but chuckle, seeing Charlie trying to rush and clean up the desk. Being called by one of the night nurses, he wished her a good weekend and left.

Charlie had never cleared up her desk as quickly as she did that afternoon. She grabbed her bag and her jacket and rushed to the front of the clinic, hoping Bucky would be late and that she hadn’t made him wait. Unfortunately for her, Bucky had been on time. Even a little bit early. He patiently waited for her, sitting on a chair in the waiting area and reading whatever book they had left out on the small table for patients while they waited.

When she noticed him sitting patiently, engrossed in what he was reading, she softly cursed under her breath and rushed to him.

‘’James! I’m so sorry, I lost track of time. Which is ironic because after coming back from our lunch I thought the afternoon would never end, I even took down the clock from the wall because I felt like it kept nagging me on how slowly time passed and then suddenly it was 10 past 4 and I am late I am so, so, sorry.’’ She rambled on, not even taking a second to breathe in between sentences.

Bucky looked up at her and put down the book he had been holding. He stood up, listening to Charlie, a small smile on his lips. He chuckled and grabbed her by the shoulders to break her from her trance.

‘’Charlie..’’ He tried to cut her off, but she kept going. ‘’Lily!!!’’ He said a little bit louder.

Her eyes found his quickly at her nickname, finally making her stop apologizing. When she finally looked at him he smiled at her.

‘’Hi.’’ He said. She smiled at him. ‘’It’s fine, don’t worry about it. It’s Friday, we have all the time in the world.’’

She felt a wave of embarrassment rushing through her, finally realizing at how insane she must have sounded. She blushed and looked down.

‘’Sorry.’’ She whispered.

Bucky started laughing. ‘’Please, stop apologizing, it’s okay.’’

Still holding her by the shoulders, he slowly pulled her towards him and hugged her. He felt her relax against him and then felt her arms wrapping around him, hugging him back. Always waiting for Bucky to be the first to let go, she stepped back when she felt him loosen his hold on her.

‘’Let’s go.’’ She turned around to walk out.

She waved goodbye to her coworkers, wishing them a great weekend and smiling at everyone. Bucky walked in front of her to open the door and held it open for her, following behind once she was outside. He wrapped one of his arms around her shoulders and they started making their way to her house. They walked in a comfortable silence, enjoying the sun and watching kids running around the streets, coming back from school.

With her house in sight, Bucky turned his head towards Charlie and looked down at her.

‘’Won’t your parents mind me coming over?’’ His question made Charlie look up at him.

She shrugged. ‘’They aren’t going to be home for a few more hours.’’

Getting closer to her front door, Charlie started going through her purse, looking for her keys. After a few seconds of fumbling around, she finally felt them under her fingers and grabbed them, bringing them to the locks. Opening the door she walked inside, stepping aside to let Bucky walk in and then closed the door behind him.

Bucky had seen her house, at least the outside, on multiple occasions when he walked her home with Steve. It was a gorgeous house, clearly her parents had money and lots of it. But now, being inside, he felt so out of place.

His family wasn’t what you would call poor but they were far from being rich. They would have enough money for necessities but not a cent left for ‘’extras’’ as his mom called luxuries. Bucky found a few odd jobs, working here and there to make money. He gave most of his paychecks to his mom, keeping just a little bit aside for when he wanted to go out or buy presents for his family members.

Standing in Charlie’s house, Bucky felt like he didn’t belong in here. The house was even more beautiful inside and it looked even bigger, somehow, than when he was standing outside. He looked around, looking almost nervous. As if someone would know he wasn’t supposed to be there and come kick him out.

Charlie took off her shoes, Bucky doing the same thing shortly after.

‘’Welcome to my home.’’ She said with a warm smile.

He finally turned his attention back to her, her smile making him feel better. There was something about her that made him feel... special. The way she would look at him, smile at him or cheer him on whenever he was doing something he didn’t think he could. Charlie made him feel like he was worthy of anything, even a house like this. Clearly, she had the means to be looking down on him and his entire family. Like every other rich families did with people like him, but she never did. She was kind to everybody, never looking down on anyone. She always made everybody feel like they were important and worthy of her time. He thought she had one of the most beautiful hearts he had seen, even better than Steve’s and he didn’t think such a thing was possible.

Charlie gave Bucky a quick tour, walking around, pointing at rooms. After finishing their ‘’tour’’, Charlie guided them upstairs to her room. When she opened the door to let him in, Bucky was surprised to see what was in front of him.

Her room was big, huge compared to his that he had to share with one of his siblings, and it was extremely neat. Her bed was made, not a single wrinkle could be seen on her covers. An entire wall was covered in book shelves, but clearly they weren’t enough because there were small piles of books on the floor and even those piles were neatly stacked near the shelves.

‘’I knew you liked to read but this...’’ He waved his hand around, gesturing towards her book collection ‘’This is insane.’’ Charlie laughed.

‘’I know, I know. It’s a problem’’ She laughed once more. ‘’I just...’’ She paused, thinking for a few seconds and blushed. ‘’I just love to escape reality sometimes.’’

He nodded, agreeing with her. He must admit, if he had the kind of money her parents did, his room would probably look very similar to hers. He looked around a little, curious. He walked over to her desk, the one she used to get ready every morning. Her hairbrush, hair ties, hair pins were all placed neatly in front of the mirror along with her makeup. What surprised him was the amount of jewellery she owned, especially necklaces. There must have been 10 different ones placed on small hooks, and yet ever since he had met her he always saw her with the same one.

He turned towards her, pointing at all the necklaces and raising an eyebrow, curiously.

‘’You have all these necklaces, but you always wear the same one.’’ He then pointed at the necklace she was wearing. She nodded and he let his hand fall back next to his body. ‘’Why?’’ He asked.

Charlie chewed on her bottom lip and her hand reached up to touch her necklace, she looked nervous.

‘’If I tell you, promise you won’t laugh at me.’’ She says while sitting down on the edge of her bed.

‘’I would never laugh at you. I promise.’’ He was even more curious.

He grabbed the chair from her desk and brought it closer to her bed, sitting in front of her.

‘’My grandmother gave me this necklace when I was 10 years old.’’ She started.

Her necklace was made of silver, a thin chain was holding a small heart locket. The locket lying between both her collarbones. She raised a hand to it and smiled.

‘’She had one very similar that I had always loved, ever since I was a little girl. She said that my grandfather gave it to her when they started dating. I think it was on their second date. He said that the moment he had laid eyes on her he knew she was going to be his wife. When he gave it to her, he opened the locket and inside one of the halves was a picture of him and the other half was empty. He told her that she was meant to put her picture on the other side and this way they would always be together, near her heart, even when they weren’t.’’

‘’They were so in love.’’ She continued, not really looking at Bucky. Just remembering the moment her grandmother had given her the necklace, a sad smile formed on her lips. Charlie opened her own locket.

One half was empty and the other one had a picture of herself.

‘’She gave this one to me, saying that when I meet the man I was going to marry, the love of my life, I’ll be able to put his picture in it with mine, that way he’ll always be close to my heart like the love of her life was close to hers.’’ She took a small pause, snapping the heart shut. ‘’My grandfather died the next year and she followed soon after. Broken heart syndrome the doctor told us. She literally couldn’t live without him.’’

She was smiling but a few tears fell down her cheeks. It had been almost 15 years but she still missed them every single day. Bucky quickly reached up and wiped away her tears.

‘’My parents got married because it was a good business move for both their families. They get along fine but they aren’t in love. Not the way my grandparents were and I don’t want that. I want to marry someone because we love each other and can’t live without one another, not because it’s the ‘’right’’ thing to do. I wear the necklace every day to remind myself, but mostly remind my parents, that I won’t settle for less. They have been pushing me for years to marry any guy that can ‘’provide’’ for me so I can be a dutiful housewife.’’

Bucky chuckled, knowing full well that wasn’t going to happen. She was too independent and she loved her job too much to give it all up for some guy and spend all her days at home, by herself, cleaning and cooking.

‘’Like that’s ever gonna happen.’’ Charlie snorted, as if she could read his mind.

‘’That’s a beautiful story.’’ He smiled at her. ‘’Whoever ends up in the other half is going to be a very lucky man, and he better treat you right because it’ll be my pleasure to hurt him if he doesn’t.’’

She laughed at the threat.

‘’What? It’s true.’’

‘’Oh, I know. That’s why I laughed. Because I know you will be more than happy to remind him about that.’’

‘’Damn right.’’ Bucky smiled and winked.

Charlie shook her head, rolling her eyes as if she was annoyed but the big smile on her face proved differently.

They looked at each other, smiling for what felt like hours but in reality was just a minute. Both subconsciously hoping that Bucky would be her other half but never willingly admitting it to themselves.

They finally broke eye contact and Bucky got up, walking over to her book shelves. He looked the books over, glancing at them. He turned around to look at Charlie who had gotten up short after and was now standing behind him, raising an eyebrow and smirking at her.

‘’Are they in alphabetical order?’’ He teased.

Charlie nodded and chewed on her bottom lip a few seconds before adding ‘’And sorted by genre.’’

‘’Amazing.’’ Bucky said, turning back to the books and starting at the far left to make his way through the alphabets and genres.

After a few minute he gasped.

‘’Is that a first edition of The Hobbit?’’ He looked at her with wild eyes.

‘’Yes!’’ She said, excitedly.

‘’It’s such a good book, isn’t it? I used to have a first edition copy, too. I brought it with me everywhere I went and I ended up losing it.’’ He pouted at the memory of the heartbreak he felt when he realized he had lost one of his favourite books.

Charlie mimicked his pout, sympathizing with him. ‘’I’m sorry James.’’

She reached out and squeezed his shoulder in her hand, trying to comfort him.

‘’It’s okay.’’ Bucky said dramatically ‘’I’ve grieved. I still miss it, but I try to not think about it. It hurts too much, you know?’’ Wiping a tear that isn’t there.

‘’I understand.’’ She nodded, being just as dramatic as he was being.

They looked at each other, completely serious before starting to laugh like they had just told the most hilarious joke of all times.

‘’Dork.’’ She said, sticking out her tongue at him once they had calmed down.

‘’Takes one to know one, sweetheart.’’ He smirked and looked at the books again, missing the way Charlie blushed at the new nickname.

‘’You’re welcome to borrow whichever ones you like.’’ Noticing how Bucky was eyeing some of them. ‘’I haven’t read them all yet, but I really don’t mind if you want to bring some home with you. As long as you don’t keep them from me forever.’’ She laughed.

He smiled and pointed at a book. ‘’Could I borrow this one? I’ve been wanting to read it forever but never found it anywhere.’’

‘’I know! The reviews were so good, everyone jumped on it. I went to every book store I could think of to find it. There were only a few copies left and I never saw it for sell again. I haven’t read it yet, it was the next one on my list but you can definitely borrow it. I’ll just read it after you bring it back.’’ She smiled, not even hesitating to let him be the one to read it first.

He felt bad to be taking it from her, even if it was just for a couple of weeks. He shook his head, a shy smile on his face.

‘’No, no. It’s okay. You should be the one to read it first. I’ll look for something else.’’

‘’Nonsense. Take it. I have plenty more to keep me busy.’’

He almost melted right where he stood. The way she was looking at him, as if just the thought of making him happy by borrowing the book was more than enough to make her happy made his heart flutter. Hesitating for a few seconds, he grabbed the book in question and turned around to completely face her.

‘’Actually, I have a better idea.’’

She looked at him surprised and curious, following him with her eyes. He walked over to her bed and sat down, his back against her headboard, rearranging all her pillows and decorative cushions in a way that almost made it look like he had just made himself a cocoon made out of her pillows.

‘’What are you doing?’’ She laughed.

He grinned at her and patted the spot next to him.

‘’Come over here. We’ll read it together.’’

Charlie swore that in that moment her heart skipped a few beats and she tried to not think about what that meant. Without hesitating she made her way to her bed and sat down next to Bucky.

‘’How are we doing this?’’ She asked.

‘’Maybe I can read it to you? That way we’ll be following at the same time.’’

Again, her heart skipped a few more beats and with how close they were sitting and she sincerely hoped Bucky hadn’t noticed. Not trusting her voice in this moment, she simply nodded.

Bucky couldn’t have noticed, he was too busy focusing on the way his heartbeat had sped up when she agreed to sit next to him and let him read to her. He acted before thinking, mad at himself for doing so. Something he found himself doing a lot when he was around Charlie. He didn’t know what took over him but the idea popped into his mind and before he could stop himself, it was too late and he was already on her bed. He couldn’t understand why he was acting this way with her, he just hoped she wouldn’t think he was being too weird and that it wouldn’t make her want to stop hanging out with him. He feared that some day he’d cross the line between friendly and cute to clingy and annoying, scaring her away in the process.

He reached his arm around her, bringing her closer to him so he could hold the book for the both of them.

When she felt how close he was, she felt heat creep up on her cheeks and she was thankful that he was too busy getting comfortable to notice it.

Charlie sat down a little lower on her bed so that Bucky didn’t have to hold up the arm that was around her. Soon enough, he started reading to her and after a few pages Charlie thought that his voice was the best sound she had ever heard and that she would never get tired of hearing it.

By the end of chapter 2, Charlie had readjusted herself, feeling how Bucky’s body was already tiring from their position. She had gotten impossibly closer to him, the back of her head was now resting under his collarbone. His arm that had previously been around her shoulder was now around her middle, resting on her stomach. Her arm was resting on top his, playing with the hem of his sleeve.

Too engrossed in the story, and each other, neither Charlie or Bucky heard the front door open and close downstairs.

Her parents were home and were surprised to find a pair of shoes that clearly weren’t Charlie’s next to the front door. They stopped moving, listening to see if they could figure out where she was. The only sound in the house was coming from her room. A man’s voice. A voice they soon recognized to be Bucky’s. They listened for a few more minutes, trying to figure out what was being said and finally understanding that he was reading something to her.

They moved to the living room and slowly closed the door behind them, trying not to make a sound. Charlie’s mom looked panicked while her dad looked angry.

‘’That’s the boy she’s been spending all of her time with?’’ He hissed. ‘’I thought she was with the Rogers boy!’’

Her mom glared at her dad.

‘’Lower your voice before they hear you.’’ She hissed back. ‘’I thought it was the Rogers boy, this is news to me, too.’’

Charlie’s dad started pacing, shaking his head.

‘’This.’’ He waved in the general direction of Charlie’s room. ‘’Cannot happen. Steve Rogers wasn’t a threat but Barnes has a reputation. He can get any single girl he wants, not one of them being able to resist him. Every single person in this town knows how he is.’’ He was so angry, his skin looked almost purple.

Her mom wasn’t in a better shape.

It would have been easy to mistake their anger for concern, anyone who could have been listening in could have sympathized with her parents. They were concerned that their daughter could possibly get her heartbroken. Then, her dad spoke again.

‘’My daughter isn’t going to fall in love with some...’’ He trailed off, looking for the perfect word to describe Bucky. ‘’low-class bastard.’’ He added with disgust.

And there it was. Her parents weren’t concern with her well-being, they weren’t worried about her possibly getting hurt or having her heart broken. No. They were concerned that their daughter might be falling in love with a man they didn’t approve of. A man that couldn’t provide for her, that couldn’t bring anything to their family. Marriage had nothing to do with love, marriage was a business transaction. They needed to gain something out of it and love wasn’t something they were interested in.

They had noticed how their daughter seemed happier, chipper even. She was barely even home and she was always in a good mood. They thought it was because she had found a new friend in Steve but now they understood what it really was. James Buchanan Barnes was corrupting their daughter, ruining any chance for them to make her marry a man of their choice.

They stared at each other in silence, the faint sound of Bucky’s voice reaching the living room then the sound of laughter filled the house. Charlie’s laugh. It made her parents cringe.

‘’We need to put a stop to this.’’ Her mom whispered angrily.

‘’We are going to do everything we can, darling.’’ Her dad got even more angry when Charlie laughed again. ‘’There is no way in hell I’m letting Barnes anywhere near our daughter. I don’t give a damn about how she feels.’’

Her dad stopped for a minute, thinking.

‘’I’ll make it so that she won’t have a choice but to listen to what we want.’’ He smirked. ‘’It’s going to be us or him.’’

An ultimatum. Her family or her best friend. Either way, Charlie’s heart was about to be broken and her parents couldn’t wait to see it all happen.

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a-pretty-nerd · 4 years

Text

Rebellion

Tomura Shigaraki x AllMight!Daughter! Reader

Prologue

Premis:

When The League of Villians discovers that AllMight has a daughter, they are quick to snatch you up and hold you hostage. Shigaraki had a careful and thought out plan, but that was before you got there. Now you're in the mood for some not-so-healthy rebellion.

word count: 1405

A/N: Welcome to the dumpster fire!

Don't froget, I have a patreon now! So go support me there to get some nice and spicy, exclusive content, AND I'll only be accepting direct requests from Patrons now. Patrons will also be able to vote on what projects I focus on next. So please check me out there! I love you guys, and I hope you enjoy the prologue. I'm so excited for this one! 💕

Chapter 1

This was your mother's idea.

It was your mother's idea and your father played along. So shortly after graduation, you caught a plane to Japan to spend the summer with your father. After his early retirement, he had a lot more free time and your mother intended to exploit that.

You've been to Japan a handful of times to visit, but you spent the majority of your life with your mom in America. You've never been excited to go to Japan. The trips were usually filled with an unspoken sense of obligation and tension. Your father was always distant, even when you came to visit. He was always busy and even when he wasn't, there was a rift between the two of you. He just wasn't around enough to really be a father to you.

But you hoped that this time things would be better. Maybe now that it was just you and him, you could patch things up. Get to know AllMight a little better. That’s how you knew him. Not as your father, not even as Toshinori Yagi, but as AllMight.

The pressure in your ears began to subside and eventually pop as the plane landed. Soon you shuffled onto the ramp and into the bustling airport. You looked up at the signs for directions. Good thing a lot is in English, your Japanese is getting sloppy. What was that character again??

Eventually, you found him. You almost missed him. When you were a kid, he always put on a big show. He always had a driver pick you and your mom up from the airport to take you back to his luxury apartment, which he rarely used. But no, this time he was here in the flesh and what was even weirder was how he looked.

You had seen the fight on the news. The resurgence of All for One had gone viral and everyone knew. You would have taken the time to be more concerned about AllMight, if it wasn't for your mid-terms that week. Now he stood there, a shadow of the man he once was. Maybe things would be different this time.

"Hey! Over here!" He called out as he stretched a scrawny arm out and waved.

"Hey!" You called back with a smile. You let go of your luggage to greet him with a hug.

"I'm so glad you made it. How was the flight?" He spoke softly. You had heard the change over the phone, but in person, it was worse.

"Long."

"Heh, I bet. You hungry? Let's grab lunch." He took your luggage and began rolling it behind him as you walked. When you finally sat down for lunch, he suddenly perked up. "I almost forgot! I got you something, for graduation." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small wooden box. Inside sat a black and gold pin in the shape of a graduation cap. For a second you didn't know what to say. Clearly, it was expensive. But you didn't know what the hell to do with it. Put it on your jacket? You would have much rather preferred the money it cost than the little shiny thing in front of you.

"It's beautiful. Thank you." You smiled in an attempt to appear grateful. You took the pin out and stuck it to the lapel of your denim jacket.

"I'm sorry I couldn't be there on the big day. It’s just that UA has had me pretty busy since security got tighter."

"Don't worry about it. I get it. How are things at the UA?" You asked. Anything to get him to talk, anything but silence. He went on and before you knew it lunch was over and you made your way back to his apartment.

"When did you move?" You asked as you kicked your shoes off at the door. The place was nice but much smaller. Nothing like the flashy penthouse from when you were a kid. It was quaint and homey. He even had a few house plants sitting around.

"Oh, a while back. The guest bed's over here." He showed you to your room which sat cold and alone in the dark. "You must be tired. I'll let you get settled before dinner."

"Hey, uh...is there a gym nearby by any chance?" You asked before he shut the door.

"Uh yeah, there's one in the building downstairs. You work out?" He asked awkwardly. You shrugged.

"I like to in my spare time. Its good to stay active."

"Yeah it is...it is...Well, I'll leave you to it." He said before closing the bedroom door. Damn, he was awkward. It’s like even as an adult he didn't know what to do with you. You were starting to regret coming here after all. But apart of you was determined to give the old man one last chance to be a father.

One. Last. Chance.

You couldn't sleep that night. Jet lag was getting to you, and despite being incredibly exhausted, you didn't sleep a wink. You decided to make yourself a cup of coffee, only to find he didn't keep any in the house. That’s right, he always preferred tea. So when he shuffled into the living room at 5 am and found you watching tv, wide awake, he offered to take you out for a cup before work.

"You have work today?" You asked as you watched him shuffle back to his room.

"I know, I'm sorry. Hey, why don't you come with me! I'm sure they'd let you follow your old man around for a day! What'd'ya say? It'll be fun." There he goes, talking to you like your a little kid. You'd think after graduating college he'd at least stop that.

"Didn't you say security is tight now? You said students were even living in dorms now last we spoke on the phone. You sure they'd let me in to just...observe all day." AllMight paused.

"Sure! You're my daughter after all." The idea embarrassed you just a little bit, but it sounded better than sitting around his apartment all day. You agreed.

You regretted it almost as soon as you got there. Most people, even his coworkers, had no idea you even existed. He never talked about you and every shocked face reminded you that. You fought the day with a horribly forced smile on your face. You stayed in the teacher's office when he taught classes. You sat there, reading on your phone for hours on end.

"You just graduated, right?" A deep voice asked from behind a computer. You looked up and turned to look over at Mr. Aizawa who sat at his desk. Looking outrageously bored and just as tired as you.

"Sorry?"

"What was your major?" He asked, looking back at the computer screen and going back to work.

"Forensic psychology and law."

"You wanna be a hero, like your old man?" He droned on.

"God, no. Hero work isn't for me."

"Yeah? What are you gonna do with your degree?" He seemed amused by your distaste for hero work. As far as you were concerned, heros were just cops with superpowers. And where you came from, that had its own set of issues.

"I have a job lined up with an office as a junior detective in New York."

"You want to be a detective?" He raised a brow and looked up at you.

"Something like that. I just want to actually help people."

"You don't think heros help people?"

"Not where I'm from." The conversation fizzled out from there. Occasionally teachers would leave and come back, starting small talk and then excusing themselves again. They were all nice enough, though, you tended to favor Aizawa's company. He often worked as a detective in many cases to catch criminals. So you could talk true crime with him easily. He also brought you a cup of coffee.

Soon the day came to an end and you walked with AllMight back to his car. Unfortunately, you weren't alone. Across the street, a pair of binoculars peered at you through a bush.

"Going home already, AllMight-I'm tired!"

"Wait, who's that girl?"

"Girl? Where? In the car!?"

#tomura shigaraki #shigaraki #tomura shigaraki x reader #tomura shigaraki x reader smut #mha x reader #mha #bnha

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jamespotterthefirst · 4 years

Text

Lovely (Ethan x F!MC)

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Lilac Allende) Word count: 2,100+ Warning: Adult language Premise: Adding her on social media was a dangerous mistake. Particularly when she posts a picture looking like that. Tags: @openheart12 | @ethandaddyramsey | @noboundariesplease | @silverlitskies |

___________________________

“Post, post, post!” her roommates chanted with alcohol fueled enthusiasm.

Lilac, the least drunk of the group, though not by a lot, peered at her friends quizzically. They were sprawled on different parts of their living room, gazing at her with glazed eyes and sloppy smiles. In her own drunken state, she wondered how the night turned from board games and drinks to Lilac spilling her guts about Ethan following her on social media. Of course, she had left out his name and so her roommates only surmised it was some new flame she was interested in.

God, she wanted him with such desperation that it physically hurt sometimes. If she hadn't had several drinks, she'd feel miserable and somewhat pathetic.

“You guys don't even know who this guy is,” Lilac returned and she realized immediately that was not entirely true. As the words left her mouth, Sienna and Elijah shared a massive, knowing grin. Lilac's face flushed at the memory of running into them while trying to sneak Ethan out all those months ago.

Luckily, Aurora and Jackie were too drunk to notice the exchange.

“It's that Lahela guy, isn't it?” Aurora offered.

“Not likely,” returned Jackie at once. “Lilac said this guy was good-looking and smart.” She instantly wrinkled her nose, looking far more dejected than was warranted. “It's a lot more fun when he's here to hear me insult him.”

“That one was weak,” Elijah commented with a laugh, elongating the last word. “If he was here, he would've destroyed you with a comeback.”

Before Jackie could reply, Sienna leaped up from her place on the rug and plopped down next to Lilac on the couch. “I know what picture you should post,” she exclaimed excitedly, brandishing her phone in front of Lilac's face. A blur of green was all she could see as Sienna waved the phone. “Remember that green dress you bought for your cousin's wedding before they called it off?”

“Let's talk about that for a second,” Aurora said with renewed interest.

Sienna didn't seem to hear this because she went on, “The one with the neckline and the slit?”

Lilac remembered. She also remembered the picture she had sent Sienna to show it off. Lilac standing in front of a body-length mirror clad in the forest green number, phone strategically positioned to cover her face so the emphasis would be on the plunging neckline and on the shapely leg escaping from the slit.

“That dress could kill a man,” Sienna said approvingly as they both inspected the picture on her screen. “It's equal parts classy and also—”

“Slutty?” Lilac offered. It was how she described her style on most days and she was far from ashamed of it.

“If he wasn't in such great shape, you'd give the poor man a heart attack. I'm sure Eth—” she started but abruptly stopped when she remembered the others. One nervous glance around told Lilac they were not listening anyway. They were busy filling Aurora in on the drama of the canceled wedding. Sienna lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, “I'm sure your mystery guy will love it. He was all over you when you wore that navy blue dress in Miami.”

Perhaps it was the memory of that night and his kisses on the balcony, or the alcohol coursing through her, or maybe the way her heart pined for him every time their eyes met, wishing desperately they could do more, that made Lilac say, “Fine, I'll post a—”

“Thirst trap,” Elijah chimed in with a cheer.

They all laughed out loud, even Lilac. Another indicative that they should really stop drinking for the night. The semi rational part of her brain reminded her that she should've stopped drinking when posting a provocative picture with the most basic pose imaginable in hopes of entrapping a man that might not even be watching seemed like a good idea.

With a burst of courage and recklessness, Lilac found the picture, wrote a ridiculous caption that would make her hungover self tomorrow morning cringe, and pressed "post" before they could spend another twenty minutes discussing her predicament and before the chanting resumed.

_________________________________________________

The account was supposed to be strictly for a one-time use. Ethan had planned to delete the damned thing as soon as Gwyneth's case had been solved and treated. Wasn't that part of the reason why he had allowed Lilac to use that ridiculous picture of him at the beach? It was meant to be a gag, something that would never see the light of day.

Yet, he had found himself gravitating towards the tab left open on his laptop every time he used it. His subconscious had equated the inane website with learning more about Lilac. And despite his many attempts to convince himself that he shouldn’t care, he did. She was the only person he had ever wanted to learn more about, with such a desperate conviction that would be alarming to her if he ever confessed.

He cared so deeply that the word “care” did not properly describe the unbridled longing in his chest. One did not flee to the Amazon for two months to escape “care.”

Ethan pushed that dangerous thought away.

“Thirty minutes, Ethan,” Reggie said from the doorway to the bar. It was his usual way to inform him how long it’d take him to clean-up and thus the amount of time Ethan had left to enjoy his drink in blissful solitude.

He was alone, typically how he enjoyed drinking, yet he found no peace. Memories of the last time he was at that very beer garden with her accosted his thoughts. The way her bright green eyes looked startling in the golden lights floating all around and the feel of her soft lips on his.

Before he could stop himself, he pulled out his phone and opened the app. His weakness was such that he had figured out how to download the damn app on his phone. It was almost comical that now he could look at her whenever and however long he wanted on a screen, as if she wasn't inhabiting his mind at every hour.

Ethan was determined to find his favorite post, a picture of her at that very bar, taken a few months ago by her friend, Dr. Trinh. Before he could, however, his eye caught a notification from the app itself.

“Pictagram: dr.allende just shared a new post.”

It was time stamped one hour ago. Ethan briefly commended himself on going a whole hour without staring at her face like the pitiful stalker he was becoming. Before he could feel ashamed and pathetic, he opened her new post and almost choked on his drink.

“Fuck,” he murmured into the quiet night, setting his glass down on a side table nearby. Without realizing it, he sat much straighter on the outdoor sofa.

His eyes desperately roamed every inch of the image, unsure where to settle. There was the expanse of her exposed leg, or the dangerously plunging neckline of her dress, the casual sway of her hip. His hands had clutched on to those hips, fingers digging slightly into her skin as they both lost themselves to unmitigated pleasure.

It was downright criminal how good she looked in the picture, exposing enough to drive a man insane but not enough to be crass. Apparently, he was not the only one to think so. In the mere hour the picture had been up, it had already accrued 220 of those "likes" Lilac had explained.

Ethan continued to stare at the picture like a starved man. It took everything in his power not to call her and somehow convince her to take him back, his morals and conviction be damned. That was the power Dr. Lilac Allende and her green dress wielded over him.

The distant clanging of bottles startled him out his thoughts so abruptly that Ethan almost dropped his phone. He caught it quite unceremoniously and as he turned the screen back to him, he noticed a red heart animation appearing and disappearing in the middle of her picture.

"Shit," he muttered when he realized he, too, like the 220 others had "liked" the picture. Upon further inspection, he realized he had even accidentally commented the single letter "I".

A bit frantic, he tapped at his phone to figure out a way to get rid of the damn thing. He could not bear Lilac learning he leered at her picture at 1 AM and was so affected he could barely type a coherent sentence. Even if that was a hundred percent true. Ethan was getting nowhere, except to an early grave, when a text message notification came in.

“Like what you see?”

It was Lilac.

Goddammit, she had seen.

Ethan considered not replying. Yet, even as he entertained the thought, he knew he couldn't resist.

“Along with 220 others,” he replied before he could stop himself. He realized belatedly that the real count was 220 others plus Bryce Lahela (scalpellahela).

“Those 220 others can look all they want but they can't touch,” was her immediate response.

His breath caught a little. The power she had over him was astounding.

“But you can,” she added when he did not respond.

God almighty. She was determined to kill him.

A few minutes ticked by and his phone buzzed with an incoming call. When he started the call, he was greeted by what sounded like distant wolf whistles, followed by the sound of a door closing.

“You okay over there?” she asked by form of greeting. Her voice was teasing in a way that was absolutely maddening.

“Fine,” Ethan replied in what he hoped was a convincing, leveled voice.

“Where are you anyway?” She spoke in a sultry sort of drawl that did nothing to placate his traitorous body's reaction to her photo.

“Donahue's. Finishing up my drink,” he replied, eyeing his forgotten scotch on the table where he had set it. “Anyway, sorry if I awoke you. I accidentally liked and commented.”

“Accidentally,” she repeated in a tone that suggested she did not believe him. “So you don't like my dress and you're not at a loss for words?”

“I never said that,” he returned at once. “You look…”

What was a professional way of saying “fucking irresistible” or “like I want to peel that dress off with my teeth”?

“Good,” he said lamely, though his strangled voice suggested far more. She picked up on that, of course.

“And what are you going to do about that?” she asked in a deliberately innocent whisper.

“Lilac,” he warned, as he always did when their conversation veered towards volatile territory.

“There's nothing wrong with just telling me, Ethan,” she offered and he could have sworn she sounded almost pleading.

He did not argue, as he usually did. Mostly because another intellectual argument with her, in addition to the photo and the way she all but purred in his ear, would allow his desire for her to win. He'd be on his way to her bed in moments.

“Tell me,” she prompted again.

With a sigh, he gave in.

“That dress is...”

“Yes?”

“Sinful.”

There was a small pause at the other end of the line.

“Should I wear it out?”

“Absolutely,” he returned, completely enraptured by the direction this was all heading. He could feel his inhibitions vanish.

“Where to?”

“My bed.”

She did not miss a beat.

“Ideally, I'd be out of the dress for that, then,” she returned in that sexy drawl of hers. Ethan was astounded he was not in the car, speeding to her apartment at that very moment.

“Fuck, Lilac,” he murmured.

“So you can do that, yes,” she responded in a whisper so low that he almost didn’t catch it.

He said nothing, fearing he would sound like an incomprehensible imbecile if he did.

A long silence, and then, “Ethan?”

“Yes?”

He heard her suck in a breath, almost as if mustering up courage. “I miss you.”

There was an unbearable tugging at his chest. He never had her courage, but now that she had laid it out for him, he couldn’t resist admitting the same. “You know I do too.”

Another small silence.

“Come over,” she said at last and he could hear the tones of humor in her voice. Almost as if she knew what he was going to say. Perhaps she did know. The brief illusion in which they saw each other as lovers and not colleagues, had inevitably come to an end. As it always did.

He laughed good-naturedly. “Go to sleep.”

“With you?”

Despite himself, he grinned. He knew at the other end, she would be too.

“Good night, Lilac.”

“Good night, Ethan.”

___________________________________

Click Here for Part 2

___________________________________

A/N: Ah, these two will have to sleep together sooner than later.

THANK YOU so much if you read this silly, pointless thing!

Masterlist

P.S. I made that Instagram post Ethan loves of MC at Donahue’s but didn’t put it in the story. LOL, I love the idea of him stalking her posts. That man is so in love.

Anyway, here it is, just for fun:

#Ethan Ramsey #Open Heart #ethan x mc #playchoices #my writing #choices you play #oph #OH #OH2 #OHSY #ethan ramsey fanfiction #Ethan ramsey x mc #dr. ethan ramsey #open heart fanfiction #choices fanfiction

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betweentheracks · 3 years

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On a scale of 1-5000, how annoyed do you get when people have the gall to tell you, “Wow! You’re so lucky!” when they find out that you work in entertainment and with celebrities?

Also on a scale of 1-5000, how unimpressed are you with the celebrities you end up working with?

Please share some horror stories so we can commiserate over nightmare clients! 😂

Yeef and also yikes, do I actually want to dive into this particular can of worms? Lmao.

I thoroughly see spots of red in my vision whenever people try to do the whole “Wow, that’s really cool and lucky for you! How many famous people have you met or worked with? Your life must be so glamorous and exciting!!” Like please, spare me. It isn’t glitz and glitter all the time - in fact, the fun parts are in the minority of how working in this industry goes. Beyond that, I’m not ‘lucky,’ I worked my ass off to pull this off and have never slowed my pace (until this COVID-19 chaos) to ensure my post remains relevant. In accordance to your ranking, I guess I would go with 4999 points annoyed.

Frankly, my rating and impressions of my clients are like a river that flows on and on and yet there is no apparent water to be found. I have a good rapport with most of the ones I am contracted with exclusively, but they're prone to make my feelings change from sentence to the next. Celebrities will forever remain exhaustively effervescent.

If you really want some dish, I can offer up some from a client I once worked with in my apprenticeship and how much I hate the time I had to spend with her while also retaining a sense of gratitude for helping shape me into someone that can withstand some of the prickly goings-on of the industry. She wasn’t even my client, as I was merely apprenticing and therefore was little more than a ghost that shadowed one of the veterans of our company. I’m highlighting this now before diving into the thick of what was the worst week in my career thus far because it is extremely important to keep in mind that I was under no actual obligation to work with this woman.

Ahem, so, story time! Let me start off with first making it clear that even now I will only work with actresses and actors when I have no viable means of refusal. This is simply a preference of mine and stems mostly from this woman’s behaviors and treatments of me and some of the crew I worked with at the time. I was quite young when I entered my apprenticeship, like barely more than 20, and I was simultaneously accustomed and starstruck by the world I was entering. Before the apprenticeship, I had already been working off and on via temporary contracts and commissions as a MUA at the time, so I knew the ends and outs of the place and the people that worked my end of it. However, I hadn’t worked with many clients one on one as either a MUA or as an aspiring wardrobe stylist. Due to this I was still very green and awkward and hadn’t yet figured out the line between casual and professional (to this day, for me, this line is nearly nonexistent) and I tended to make a mess whenever I opened my mouth so mostly I kept quiet and melded into my role as an observing trainee with occasionally useful ideas but was mostly just an extra pair of hands. The stylist I was shadowing was, in a word, cumbersome. They weren’t a very great teacher and had a tendency to drop projects into my lap without much proper instruction or insight and would leave me to attempt making sense of what was wanted by means of vision boards and client portfolios. In much a similar fashion, when a scheduling conflict came up involving the actress which will star in this tale and another more major artist; naturally, he had to see to the client he had a more tangible contract with and stuck me with wrangling our golden girl.

Within the first 4 sentences of our first exchange as stylist and client I hated her immensely. She was the type of client I abhor to work with; overbearing and demanding, thankless and impatient. She was in the midst of her career finally catching some interest which is the most pivotal time in any celebrity’s career and I like to think she was so bitchy and just plain mean due to the stress and pressure she was under but it doesn’t make what happened any more justifiable. Her immediate and first words to me were, “You’re young and clueless enough to be my baby sister. Whatever authority you think you can have in dictating what I wear ended with the sound of the door opening when you stepped in, get that straight now.” I remember this extremely clearly because I went from gobsmacked to incensed within the time it takes to pop the top on a can of soda. But! I knew at least enough to know to keep my mouth shut and temper my immediate dislike of this person and tried to push forward and steer the conversation in the direction of what her ideal style and presentation should be. It went well enough for all of an hour tops before she domed me again by calling me “baby sis” in place of my name. As I am, in fact, the baby sis of my family I am well aware of when a power play is being maneuvered in on me and spotted this for what it was: her trying to remind me that I had no right to be speaking to her, let alone designing her. This was a culmination of her being upset and put out that she wasn’t chosen by my mentoring stylist and was stuck with someone that had basically no merits behind her.

Calling me this wasn’t really an issue for me, but it did chafe against my skin enough to make me feel uncomfortable and anxious. Still, I let it slide and she continued to call me as such for the duration of our time together. The true horror of this story is what comes next and the escalation from minor verbal insults meant to belittle me fanned into blatant sabotage. She and I had come to a sort of estranged agreement when it came to modeling her vision board - she wanted to retain some traces of her perceived sweet and demure self from when she was cast in her first role, but play up the maturity and grace she held now and have it reinvented into timeless class while holding a touch of being chic. It was a headache to make sense of since, from a the perspective of fashion and trends at that time, this wasn’t the ideal and even seemed counterintuitive to someone in her position and of her age. I went along with it and threw myself into the quest to pull from the brands she mentioned liking most and for days I learned firsthand how exhausting and tedious it is to make acquisitions and swear responsibilities/accountabilities one after the other and put my name and my company on the line. I handpicked every item and steadily managed to pull off forming my second ever ensemble of 4 sets of styles each with 2 or 3 substitution items that could alter the look entirely while still remaining within the realm of what the client had asked for. I worked upward of 13 hours for 4 days and when I finally was able to bring the client to her showroom and present my designs, I was only able to feel relieved for mere minutes before she began to yell and make a scene. She demanded my supervisor and the head of the styling department of our company both come to tend to her and see what a mockery I had made of her ideal image. She went on to use her acting quirks to insinuate that I had gone off half-cocked and overruled her every idea and word and then dared to present her with such low quality fashions. She even managed to produce a vision board that was entirely different from the one she and I had planned together! It was obviously done by herself and lacked the detailed attention any of the stylists housed in our company would have added, but it was convincing enough to appear damning.

At this point my head was in a weird place, trying to make sense of the perilous world I was throwing myself into and the fact that this was actually happening to me at all and wasn’t just me daydreaming while watching daytime dramas. After I worked through that initial shock, I was more than mad but less than enraged. I was confused as to why this client was being so purposefully obstinate and difficult for me, even briefly wondered what sort of grievance I could have possibly cost her when I had only just met her and had done my utmost to seem cool and pro like all the seasoned stylists I had worked with. I thought I was going to lose my job and have to go back to my family with my tail between my legs and tell them they were right and I never should have strayed from my original course and career path. I only became aware that I was crying, like big fat tears that made a mess of my face and were embarrassing to the point that I wanted to flee, because my supervisor had given me his handkerchief. It was at this point that I teetered and looked deeply at the person accusing me and wasting my time and efforts and realized that it wasn’t about me and was only ever about her. This moment of clarity, though, was like the opening of a gate I had been clinging to all week in hopes of keeping all my spurned senses quietly simmering beneath my skin rather than wreck my name and finish off my chances before they truly begun. I very rudely told my supervisor and the department head that if they needed proof of my hardwork and dedication to the vision of a thoughtless actress caught in the weeds of her own wilting fame then they were free to examine my copy of the original vision board and compare it with the one she had; that they could check through the 15 or so LORs under my name and in her stead (both names are featured for security means). Anyway, she was attempting to spill a stain across our company and specifically the stylist in charge of me for blowing her off. Her idea was that if I failed in a big way it would make him look like a horrible mentor and cost him some of his reputation. I was merely cannon fodder.

This got insanely long - let’s put it up to me also being a storyteller and writer as well as very passionate about this encounter. It sparked the timid embers of my uncertain pursuit of my career into a fire that has since gotten me through many other rounds of hard hitting clients and their excessive personalities and entitled arrogance. I love my job a lot, but man is this industry full of bullies.

#peekbackstage #style asks #style speak #anyway now i adamantly avoid working with the acting crowd and my life is a lot more simple

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thecreaturecodex · 4 years

Text

Great Old One, Chaugnar Faugn

[Commissioned by @monstersdownthepath. Chaugnar Faugn is a canonical Great Old One in Pathfinder from the Cthulhu Mythos, specifically the novella “The Horror From the Hills” by Frank Belknap Long. Although I’ve been familiar with good ol’ CF since I got a copy of Call of Cthulhu d20 for Christmas one year, I only just now read “The Horror From The Hills” in order to write this entry. I can see why the story hasn’t been reprinted a ton; it’s basically just “The Call of Cthulhu” with more action and more racism. Yes, more racism than Lovecraft. Let that sink in. Also, I think it’s hilarious how many times Long has his characters describe Chaugnar Faugn as unlike any other mythological entity, and completely unimaginable by mere human minds, when he’s clearly Eldritch Vampire Ganesha.]

Great Old One, Chaugnar Faugn CR 26 CE Aberration This creature is vaguely like a parody of an elephant-headed humanoid, but the resemblances to both elephants and humanoids are only superficial. Tentacles held together with webbing mirror ears, and its twin tusks are translucent and interwoven. Its trunk is impossibly long and ends in a lamprey-like maw.

Chaugnar Faugn, the Horror From the Hills, the Feeder CE male Great Old One of blood, patience and remote landscapes Domains Chaos, Death, Evil, War Subdomains Blood, Entropy, Murder, Tactics Favored Weapon Light pick Unholy Symbol An elephant’s head with a bloody trunk Worshipers evil elves, murderers, nosferatu, those seeking revenge Minions faceless stalkers, morlocks, hill giants

Chagnaur Faugn, the Feeder, was old when the planets were young. He is a being formed from the initial creation of matter in the universe, and has traveled the cosmos in search of blood to drink and death to deal. He is perhaps the first parasite, and is truly one of the greatest. His body and senses stretch into both the Ethereal and Shadow Planes, and he will prey on their denizens as readily as any Material creature. Chaugnar Faugn is capable of flying between worlds, but does so only on rare occasions. He has witnessed the birth and death of at least one biosphere in its totality, and wishes to compare that to other arcs of planetary development.

Chaugnar Faugn prefers swift and precise attacks to destructive rampages, despite his bulk and strength. He spends most of his life in the shape of a stone statue, animating only to drink blood or punish followers who betray his faith. If forced to actually fight, the Feeder tramples enemies, then uses his crystalline tusks (which swivel independently) and mighty claws to finish off opponents. He is gifted in magic, and often transforms his allies into monstrous beasts to fight on his behalf, or simply stops an enemy’s heart with power word: kill.

Chaugnar Faugn’s current appellation, The Horror from the Hills, stems from his preference for remote country. He seeks out dispossessed and marginalized groups and bullies his way into a place of honor in their pantheon, demanding blood sacrifice and murdering them if they do not comply. To mark his chosen, he inflicts a terrible curse on them, granting them animalistic features. The trunk and ears of an elephant are a favorite, as they resemble his own form. Chaugnar Faugn teaches patience, for he has lived for literal eons, and savors the suspense of a revenge drawn out. His worship is popular with long lived and endangered species, such as the nosferatu, and he teaches that if they cannot make more of themselves, they should at least be remembered for the terror they inflict.

Chaugnar Faugn CR 26 XP 2,457,600 CE Large aberration (great old one) Init +18; Senses darkvision 60 ft., hyperdimensional sight, Perception +38, scent, true seeing Aura cloak of chaos (DC 26), unspeakable (300 ft., Will DC 33) Defense AC 43, touch 31, flat-footed 42 (-1 size, +8 Dex, +12 natural, +10 insight, +4 deflection) hp 615 (30d8+480); fast healing 10 Fort +25, Ref +24, Will +31 Immune ability damage, ability drain, aging, cold, death effects, disease, energy drain, fire, mind-affecting effects, paralysis, and petrifaction; SR 37 Defensive Abilities hyperdimensional body, immortality, improved uncanny dodge Offense Speed 80 ft., swim 80 ft. Melee 2 gores +36 (2d8+15/19-20), 2 claws +36 (2d6+15), bite +36 (1d6+15 plus chew magic plus grab) Space 10 ft.; Reach 10 ft. (15 ft. with bite) Special Attacks blood drain (2d4 Con), curse of Chaugnar Faugn, demanding dreams, insanity (DC 33), mythic (10/day, 1d12), subtle magic, trample (Ref DC 40, 4d6+22) Spell-like Abilities CL 26th, concentration +34 Constant—cloak of chaos (self only, DC 26), true seeing At will—darkness M, gaseous form M, greater command (DC 23), nightmare (DC 23), stone shape M, telekinesis (DC 23) M 3/day—greater dispel magic, horrid wilting (DC 26), quickened mass inflict pain (DC 24), polymorph any object (DC 26), empowered vampiric touch M 1/day—etherealness, shadow walk, power word: kill M, power word: stun M M = Chaugnar Faugn can use the mythic version of this SLA Statistics Str 40, Dex 27, Con 42, Int 26, Wis 30, Cha 27 Base Atk +22; CMB +38 (+40 bull rush, +42 sunder), CMD 60 (62 vs. bull rush, sunder) Feats Acrobatic Steps, Awesome Blow, Combat Reflexes, Critical Focus, Empower SLA (vampiric touch), Greater Sunder, Improved Bull Rush, Improved Critical (gore), Improved Sunder, Lightning Reflexes, Nimble Moves, Power Attack, Quicken SLA (mass inflict pain), Staggering Critical, Stunning Critical Skills Bluff +33, Climb +36, Intimidate +38, Knowledge (arcana, dungeoneering, geography, nature, religion, planes) +33, Knowledge (history) +36, Perception +38, Sense Motive +35, Spellcraft +36, Stealth +36, Swim +43 Languages Aklo, Aquan, Terran, Undercommon, telepathy 300 ft. SQ no breath, otherworldly insight, starflight, statue form Ecology Environment any Organization unique Treasure double standard Special Abilities Chew Magic (Su) A creature or object bitten by Chaugnar Faugn is subject to a targeted greater dispel magic effect (CL 26th). This effect first affects spells that protect against being grappled, such as freedom of movement, before any other spells. Curse of Chaugnar Faugn (Su) As a standard action, Chaugnar Faugn can cast its curse upon a creature within 120 feet. A creature targeted must succeed a DC 33 Will save to suffer a -6 penalty to an ability score of Chaugnar Faugn’s choice. A creature cursed in this manner has their facial features altered to resemble those of an animal. A creature that succeeds on this save is immune to the Curse of Chaugnar Faugn for the next 24 hours. Chagnaur Faugn can use this ability as a swift action against a creature it is grappling. This is a curse effect, and the save DC is Charisma based. Demanding Dreams (Su) When Chaugnar Faugn targets a creature with its nightmare spell-like ability, regardless of whether it passes or fails the save, the creature must succeed a DC 33 Will save or be affected as per a demand spell. A creature that passes its save against the damage from the nightmare gains a +5 bonus on this saving throw. This is a mind-influencing compulsion effect, and the save DC is Charisma based. Hyperdimensional Body (Su) Chaugnar Faugn exists in multiple dimensions at once, granting it abilities similar to those of an incorporeal creature. It is immune to damage from non-magical weapons, and takes half damage from all corporeal sources except for force effects and ghost touch weapons. It can move through solid objects as if they were difficult terrain, except that it cannot end its movement in an object. This ability does not function if Chaugnar Faugn is subject to a dimensional anchor or similar effect. Hyperdimensional Sight (Su) Chaugnar Faugn can see into the Ethereal Plane and Shadow Plane at a distance of 60 feet. It can attack creatures on either of these planes normally, although such creatures are treated as having cover against his attacks. Immortality (Ex) If Chaugnar Faugn is slain, he dissolves into a noxious sludge, and incarnates in his statue form on a distant planet over the course of 100 years. He must remain in his statue form for an additional 1011 years before he can return to animation, but can still use his subtle magic in this forced hibernation. Starflight (Su) Chagnaur Faugn can survive in the void of outer space. It flies through space at an incredible speed. Although exact travel times vary, a trip within a single solar system should take 3d20 hours, while a trip beyond should take 3d20 days (or more, at the GM's discretion)—provided it knows the way to its destination. Statue Form (Su) As a standard action, Chaugnar Faugn can assume the form of a statue of Medium, Large or Huge size. He can use his senses normally in this form and communicate using telepathy, but can take no actions except for his subtle magic. He may resume his animate form as a move action. Subtle Magic (Su) Chaugnar Faugn does not detect as magical when in statue form. In addition, he can spend a use of mythic power to use one of its spell-like abilities or the Curse of Chaugnar Faugn while in statue form. If he does so, he cannot deliver a touch attack unless the creature is touching it. When it uses this ability, creatures that witness the spell must succeed an opposed Spellcraft check against Chaugnar Faugn to determine that he is the source of the spell-like ability. Unspeakable Presence (Su) Creatures that succumb to Chaugnar Faugn’s unspeakable presence find themselves literally falling apart. A creature that fails a DC 33 Will save gains vulnerability to bludgeoning, slashing or piercing damage (determined randomly) for as long as it remains in the area of effect. The save DC is Charisma based.

#chaugnar faugn #cthulhu mythos #pathfinder 1e #great old one #commissions

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