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foli-vora · 3 years

Text

more than words, pt.2

A/N: Really wasn’t expecting that kind of reaction to pt.1 so thank you all so much for your likes, reblogs, kind words and support! I had a few requests to make a taglist so I’ve done it at the bottom - let me know if you’d like to be added! (and I hope I haven’t forgotten anyone) so - on with the show!

Summary: The one person who you thought would be happy for you finally getting with someone decent was your best friend. After all, he had set you both up. Who would’ve thought he’d be the reason it all falls apart?

Pairing: best friend!Benny Miller/f!reader, Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales/f!reader

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: swearing

pt.1 / pt.3 / pt.4 / pt.5 / pt.6

+++

You startle when your phone vibrates on the coffee table, the sudden and abrupt noise of it quick to drag your attention away from the true crime documentary playing across your TV screen. You eye it from your spot on the couch, so far, yet only a mere reach away if you could be bothered to stretch the distance. Your eyes fall back to the TV, happy to just ignore it and address it when you eventually have to move from the cocoon of blankets and pillows you’ve surrounded yourself with, but when the reminder alert sounds two minutes after receiving it, a small voice in the back of your head pipes up, saying it could be something important and you sigh tiredly.

The effort to move pulls a low groan from you and you stretch out, snatching the device from the table and back into the warmth before you could tumble onto the floor and really have something to grumble about.

Hey Benny’s mystery girl, how’s your night going?

The text sends flutters through your stomach, your hands immediately clamming up with a brief wave of nerves. This was the guy that Benny was setting you up with – an apparent very close friend and someone who clearly meant a lot to him. Why did you feel so much pressure to make a good impression?

Blankets, cushions and crime show now forgotten, you straighten up and let your fingers hover over the keypad in contemplation.

Do you play it cool? Act like you have a brimming social life, full of fun and endless options, and are not currently sat at home on a Friday night in your pyjamas watching Netflix, eating an excessive amount of snacks? No. No, you shouldn’t put a false image out there. Honesty is the best policy.

Hey yourself mystery fish. It’s a nice and relaxed night on my end, how about yours?

You leave it at that, briefly wondering if you should quickly chuck your phone on airplane mode, delete the message before it could go through and start again.

Did it sound boring? Is that the kind of image you were throwing out there? Maybe you should’ve acted like you were at least doing something productive. But then… what if Benny was there to call you out on your bullshit, knowing you literally have nothing better to do? He’d gladly do it, too.

You roll your eyes at yourself, wondering why you even cared what this mystery man thought about you and your weekend rituals when you had literally never even met. You were who you were, and that was that. If he didn’t like it, then he could take his handsome face and pretty brown eyes elsewhere.

I’m jealous. Stuck out with the guys and all I can think about is sleeping.

Scratch that. Maybe he was a man after your own heart, after all. A picture of a tray of tequila shots and lemons wedges comes through, another text quickly following which had you giggling quietly to yourself –

I’m too old for this shit.

You grin at your screen, opening your camera and snapping a quick picture of your blanket covered legs, snack covered coffee table and bright TV screen before sending it with a little smirking emoji. You’re not disappointed when he replies almost immediately.

Now I’m really jealous – are those Doritos?

Nacho cheese!

The one and only acceptable flavour. Is that Forensic Files? I binged the shit out of that the other day!

OMG it’s so good!

Surprisingly, your eyes didn’t feel as heavy as you thought they would when your alarm drags you from sleep the next morning. You could even say you were looking forward to waking up, which was not how your Saturday mornings usually played out.

Immediately you reach over for your phone and unlock it, smiling like an idiot at the Home safe :) text waiting for you. You chew your lip as you scroll through the many bubbles of conversation, stomach twisting in delight as you re-read through the topics you managed to bounce through in the few hours of texting before you had to call it quits at 2:14am and send a final – Goodnight Frankie x

You had paced your apartment after that, ringing your hands together anxiously and eyeing the clock as the seconds ticked past, scowling at your reflection in the mirror as you took your worries out on your teeth, scrubbing them much harder than necessary. Was a kiss too much? Is it too early for that kind of thing? You had only literally just started talking. Should you quickly text and say it was an accident? It’s not like you can say you sent it to the wrong person – the message had his fucking name in it.

The sound you made when you got a – Sweet dreams mystery girl x – in return wasn’t even remotely human and the words swirled around your head long after you fell asleep.

The reservations you had originally developed on being set up, yet again, quickly dissipated the longer you and Frankie exchanged messages. There had been no awkward block of nothing between texts, no dragging up mediocre subjects to keep the conversation rolling… it had just flowed so effortlessly, so naturally – something which had never happened before with Benny’s previous candidates. The only other candidate that you had managed to have a comfortable conversation with was Will, and that was only after you had both agreed that there was no attraction between the two of you.

Over text, Frankie seemed funny – quick witted and sarcastic – and often had you snorting into your drink over a comment or joke made at his own or his friends’ expenses. No, you weren’t even remotely hesitant about this anymore. If anything, your evening of conversation just made you that much more eager to meet him.

It’s much later in the day when you finally message him, having kept the temptation to message him at bay while you tidied up, keeping it short and sweet with a, How’s the head? You chew your lip, eyes flicking over the message with thoughtful eyes before quickly tagging a little kiss on the end and pressing send. Not even two minutes later, your phone goes off on the coffee table and the clammy hands return tenfold when you read over the message a good fifteen times.

Can I call?

Shit. Shit. He wants to call? And like… talk? With voices? What if you stutter? Choke? Oh god, your throat’s dry. It’s dry – how can you talk with a dry throat? You can’t. Fuck. Fuck. Drink – you need a drink –

You quickly run to the kitchen, filling a glass of water and swallowing it down as quickly as you could, not at all caring that it half spills down your chin and onto your jumper. You gasp for air when you finish, slamming the glass down and catching the drips of water from your chin with the back of your hand. You slide across your floor as you run back out to your couch and grab your phone, typing a quick reply.

Yeah sure.

Too casual. Was that too casual? Should you have added a kiss? Shit – it’s already sent. It’s fine. It’s fine. He asked a short question, and he got a short answer. It makes sense. It’s fine. You yelp when your phone starts to vibrate in your hand, his contact name flashing across the screen.

Oh God.

He’s calling. He’s somewhere out there, phone to his ear, waiting for you to answer and you’re what – standing in your lounge and looking at your phone, watching it ring, like an idiot? What are you doing?

You inhale deeply, clearing your throat a little before swiping the green icon.

“Hi,”

Oh God, what was that? What was that tone?

“Hey. Sorry – looking at my phone screen and trying to reply was making my eyes feel like they’re exploding.”

His voice is deep, hoarse from his night of drinking, and overwhelmingly pleasant to listen to. It brings a flush of warmth across your cheeks, an electric tingle across your skin.

You laugh softly, “It’s alright. Tequila wasn’t a good idea, then?”

He grunts quietly and your stomach tightens, throat suddenly dry again at the suggestive sound.

“It never is.” He groans, melting into a long yawn and you start to feel a little guilty. Did your text wake him up?

“I’m sorry, I should let you sleep –”

“No! No, it’s fine. I uh – I really want to talk to you… if you’re not busy.” He adds onto the end, almost nervously.

“I’m not busy,” you reassure quietly, smiling shyly down at your lap. “I’m all yours.”

He chuckles lowly, and the sound settles deep in your belly, “Good.”

You don’t understand how conversation could just be so... easy with someone you’ve never met. For a brief moment, you worry you might be talking too much, maybe boring him, but when he keeps asking questions, encourages you to continue, you think that maybe he doesn’t mind, maybe he actually is just interested in what you’re saying.

When dinner comes around, you’re in a fit of giggles as you prepare your food, listening to pots and pans bang and clash on the other end as Frankie prepares his own meal. You cook together, eat together, and then settle in front of Netflix together, debating back and forth on what to watch. The evening melts into night, one movie turns into two, and eventually conversation dies down.

Sometime in the night, you roll over, briefly waking to fix and fluff the pillow under your head when a sound makes you pause. Your head jerks up and you look around, finding yourself sprawled across the couch, and a blanket twisted around your legs.

Glancing over to your phone to check the time, you touch the screen and blink in surprise when you see your phone call is still connected with Frankie, who’s quiet on the other end. You move to press the red button but freeze when a soft snore sounds from the device, and a warm flood of affection grows in your heart and spreads throughout your chest.

He’s asleep.

You listen a moment longer, smiling tenderly when more quiet snores reach your ears. Instead of hanging up, you bring the phone closer, tucking it just beside your pillow before laying your head back down and closing your eyes, letting the quiet breathing soothe you back to sleep.

If the strong butterflies turning your stomach were anything to go by, you were in serious trouble.

Tags: @anu-simps @seasonschange-butpeopledont @withasideofmeg @you-got-me-starry-eyed @emilykjh @peterhollandkait @sara-alonso @starlightsearches @bookishofalder @empress-palpat1ne @shadowolf993 @rosiefridayrogersunday @canyonmirrors @eoz-stuff @blackonemasie @layniapetrovnaaa

#frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #francisco morales x reader #francisco morales x you #frankie morales x f!reader #francisco morales x f!reader #frankie morales #francisco morales #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #triple frontier #triple frontier fic #no benny in this chap #but he's coming

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candid-confetti · 3 years

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Batfam x Batmom!Reader - Bruce Wayne Dies Imagine

Warnings: None. Angst I think? Bruce Wayne dying. Nothing really, if there is something I apologize and if you can please let me know and I’ll add it to the warnings.

Word count: 1727

This is a self indulgent fic that I made up in my head and decided to share cause why not?? (I make way too many AU’s in my head) Lol I’m in pain and I made the outcome, someone recc me more Bruce Wayne and Batfam angst pls. I live for this shit. You may point out my mistakes just please be nice about it. (This is an unedited fic so its bound to have mistakes.) Oof I repeated the same words like at least 5 times yikes and I want to be an English Major?! Lol whos idea was that?!

EDIT/IMPORTANT NOTE: Ok I somehow left out THREE ENTIRE SECTIONS of the story. Because I originally wrote it in tumblr then it got deleted cause I accidentally posted it before it was ready. Then deleted the post then realized I couldn’t get back my deleted post...🤦🏻‍♀️ Anyway— I updated the word count and added the three missing sections. They start with an asterisk. *

Breathe in. Out. Again. You focus on your breaths trying to calm the racing of your heart and the dread in your gut. Breathe just breathe...

Someone— Dick squeezes your hand. You feel some of the dread ebb away with his warmth. You’re not alone. You open your eyes and your kids sorrowful gazes are on you that you know is only a reflection of your own.

“You don’t have to do this Mom,” Tim says gently. But he knows you can’t walk away. He knows you must. Having done the calculations in his head, having monitored the several emails to Wayne Enterprises, and to you, all the calls, emails, messages. The condolences that weren’t heartfelt as they tried to get a reply to get anything. Some sort of grip on a story. They only increased by the day, and they were sure to get worse.

He ended up having to cut the line as a reporter had called, and in the midst of your grief and anger, you answered. Screaming at them and their audacity to call and ask for an interview when it hadn’t even been three days. A day was not enough. Three days was not enough. A week would never be enough. A month. A year. Five. Ten. It would never be enough. You don’t know what you said exactly. It was all a blur of tears, anger, grief, numbness. The gaping hole in your chest having taken over. You don’t remember Jason and Dick running up the stairs at your broken screams, or Damian grabbing the phone from your hands, though the line had already ended, or Cass grunting as you collapsed to the floor, in an attempt to catch you.

*It would only get worse. Evident by the number of legal cases Afred had been filing for slander and breach of privacy on the Wayne family- as articles had piled up from photos of the scene. The scene that you still couldn’t look at. Hear about. You weren’t ready yet. But they didn’t care. The press had started to spin their own twisted fairytale before you could even say a word. Hence why you were now here.

You look up to Alfred in the mirror, making eye contact giving him a small nod. He gets out of the car. You allow another breath of air to fill your lungs and as you exhale the door opens. You step out, Dicks hand still comfortingly in yours. The kids following closely behind you. Heels clicking against the steps you stop, confronted by the sign of the Hotel that Bruce first brought you to for your first gala as an official couple. With its neon lights and the mockingly optimistic sun beaming on your face, your mind flashes back to a memory that had bubbled to the surface. A murmur, a laugh, a twirl. The first gala you attended together as an official couple, and the night Bruce announced his love for you to the public. Ironic how you were now here to both confirm and announce his death.

You were so nervous, you were cool and collected in the car, the only sign of nerves was your foot anxiously tapping as Bruce rubbed his thumb over your knee soothingly. You arrived late. Fashionably late as you called it, for ahem *reasons.* His hand in yours, you exited the car, making it to the steps stopping at the sign that sent reflective sparkles of your dress onto the steps. You turn to him, looking up at his tall frame, “I’m a terrible dancer,” you confess abruptly. He doesn’t show any sign of surprise just raises a groomed eyebrow at you. Your foot begins to tap again, and he leans in towards your ear murmuring with a heated breath, “Well you certainly know how to tango, my dear.” You blink in surprise, heat flooding your cheeks, your previous activities before the ride here flooding your mind, you dismiss those thoughts with a whack to his arm shaking your head with a laugh. He gives you that smile the one that you swear makes his eyes glow brighter than moonlight, grasping your hand and giving you a quick twirl. Your nerves had been replaced with pure glee as you spun...

You were spinning, you were going to hurl. You wanted to hurl. Letting go of Dick’s hand to grip the railing, the other gripping your stomach. You had refused to eat before you came, having had a muffin for breakfast, the dread filling your stomach. Tim offers you a bottle of water, likely from Alfred, and you nearly refuse it but the look in his eyes makes you take a sip. Then another. Until you finished a quarter of the bottle. You hand it back to him and he caps it, and you let out a breath, standing up straight. Jason's hand goes to squeeze your shoulder and it spurs you a step forward. You push open those glass doors and enter the Lobby, making your way through the halls towards the ballroom.

You can hear the chatter before you reach the doors, each reporter and every goddamn news outlet in the city and beyond were called and invited to write a story of the circus of you and your family's grief. Outside the doors though is quiet, and you give a moment to yourself. You open your arms, and your children come huddling around you in a warm embrace. You lost your love and husband, but your children also lost their father. Silent save for the chatter inside, as you all give yourself a moment of comfort before the parade of press and questions. Fighting back tears, you grip Jason and Dick’s shoulders as they’re at your sides and they release you, though Tim, Damian and Cass are still clutching you. You give them a squeeze and they at last let go, though Damian stays a second longer. Alfred stands at the door and you approach him giving him a warm hug, “Thank you,” you say. For taking care of you, your kids, Bruce, the lawsuits. For supporting you through this time. Alfred also lost a son, and with that thought you tighten your arms around him a little tighter for a moment, then letting go. Once you pull away he’s then wiping stray tears that managed to escape from your eyes with a handkerchief. Even in the midst of his own pain and grief here he is taking care of you. Flashing him the smallest of smiles you can manage, you turn towards the doors, smoothening out your dress.

*Later there would be Style articles analyzing what you exactly wore to this press conference. Some saying you looked elegant and strong in the midst of adversity, others wondering if you could even afford new clothes as your outfit was clad with pieces you wore from past events. The worst and most absurd saying that perhaps the family was going bankrupt as you could not afford new clothes and perhaps Bruce’s death was at the cause of underground Mafia business or schemes and he got caught in the crossfire. None of them, not a single one of them knew that everything you wore today contained a moment, a memory, that he had given you. The dress you wore was one from your 7th wedding anniversary, the heels from the first gala you attended together and you stepped on his toes enough times for him to label them as “killer heels.” The small statement piece necklace that he had given to you on your birthday, the chain nearly choking you with yet another memory.

*You felt it slip off your neck as the chain came loose, as you leaned over the railing at the Santa Monica Pier, for a much needed family vacation. It had slipped off, and you dived for it, nearly falling off into the ocean, Bruce caught you in time of course, and thankfully you had also caught your necklace. You had earned a scolding from both your husband and your kids as they told you to be careful. It ended up being an inside joke over the years between the family. “Don’t go diving off any Piers now,” Alfred had said to you after saying your farewells to your kids and husband at the door, departing on a girls trip with Lois and Diana. The kids were hysterical chiming in with, “Yeah Mom!” You had shaken your head, hauling your suitcase to the car with a laugh and a wave…

The chatter dies down to hushed whispers that remind you of the crash of waves alongside a beach, a peaceful serene sound but so different than the one you heard now. Whispers and subtle gestures, some outright pointing as you entered the room. Paparazzi taking several photos as you entered those doors, and you know some journalists will begin to spin and twist your quotes and make their own narratives, and though you were about to open up a part of you that you were not ready to share… They would not know that you chose this place, your dress, shoes, accessories to give you something— anything for you to make you feel like he was here with you. Memories and gifts, things left behind were something that you could hang onto. Your kids, Aflred were people you could hang onto. And as you take a step, step by step towards that table at the back of the room on shaky legs you find yourself gaining that footing some sliver of confidence as you walk. You could do this. You had to do this. You take a seat. Your kids standing behind you as an adamant wall of support. Alfred is off to the side and he will be the one selecting the reporters with eagerly raised hands. “Damn vultures.” Mutters Damian. If the situation weren’t as it was you may have laughed, and chimed in with your own retort. But you say nothing, Jason squeezes your shoulder, Cass grasps your hand, and you look towards the crowd. Your gaze snags on Lois, she offers you a sympathetic yet encouraging smile, and you begin to speak. “I’d like to thank you all for coming here today, on behalf of me and my family. Thank you for your heartfelt condolences and prayers. I’m sure you’re all curious to know what happened.”

AAH OK FIRST LIKE FIC EVER!! I’ve never done this before. I’m nervous as heck posting this. Please let me know your thoughts, feedback, all of it please. I might make a part 2? Just for the heck of it. I also wrote this at like 3am? I did this for me because its been playing in my head for the past few hours and I’m like well I wanna write it. Please, please, let me know your thoughts? I tried my best and I’m now rambling cause I’m nervous AAH—

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne #batfam #batfam x y/n #batfam x you #batfam x reader #batman x batmom #batman x reader #dc angst #bruce wayne x fem!reader #bruce wayne imagine #batfam imagine #batfamily #batkids #batmom x batkids #batmom imagines #bruce wayne angst #angst breaks me but its addictive

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reds-ramblings · 2 years

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Hope in Tragedy - Part 10

TRIGGER WARNING: this chapter does mention violent and sexual crimes some including children.

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Jake's P.O.V.

Today is another long day of trial. As Chase suspected I am hidden away in a backroom watching through a TV screen. This trial is for Jason Lutz mine and Adam's former boss. Yesterday Adam testified this whole thing has been hard to watch but his testimony has hit me the hardest so far. Today it is my turn to testify. Well more like prerecorded testimonies that we made in the days before my "death" will be played before the court. The story is they were found on my computer after my death along with several crucial pieces of evidence such as documents, pictures, and videos of the crimes. I'm not sure how they got the judge to allow the video testimonies to be included in evidence since normally they would not be permissible.

Jason Lutz a man in his early 40s tall, lean with dark hair and glasses sits on one side of the courtroom. Daniel Vasquez his cocky young defense attorney sits beside him with a smug look on his face. On the other side of the courtroom, District Attorney James Blackwell sat with an unamused expression on his face reading through his paperwork.

"All rise!" The bailiff calls out and the judge walks down taking his seat indicating the start of court. Mr. Blackwell approaches the front of the courtroom turning on a TV in the corner.

"What you are about to see was found on the deceased Jake Peters computer once seized by our office following his death." He pushes a button and a hooded figure wearing a mask pops up on the screen. "My name is Jake Peters. I worked under Jason Lutz for 3 years. During this time one of my jobs was to hack into multiple agencies, and facilities and delete files. I was not told what these files were just that they were to be destroyed. During one of my assignments, there was a file that we were instructed not to touch. Curiosity got the best of me one day and I opened it. The images that filled the screen were hard to look at. There were countless photos of women and children being tortured, raped, and even murdered. I quickly recognized some of the people in the photos carrying out these crimes as being some of the world's top political leaders, various members of law enforcement, and even my boss at the time. I made a copy of everything and quickly closed the file. I confided in my best friend Adam and another coworker David but what I didn't realize at the time was David had been a part of this as well. He told what I had seen and they instantly tried to pin some of the crimes on me." Once the video had concluded Blackwell flips the screen and the whole room gasps as a picture flashes on the screen. A picture that has been burned in my brain and haunted my nightmares ever since the first time I saw it. I instantly feel sick to my stomach. There on the screen was a picture of my former boss as well as an FBI agent and a member of congress standing over a young girl who couldn't have been older than 10. Her shirt had been ripped down the front and her pants and underwear pulled down to her ankles. Her body was covered in blood and bruises. Her lifeless eyes stared at the camera her throat had been slit from ear to ear. I later learned this was the daughter of a man who had evidence against them and threatened to expose them. The next picture was of three bodies mutilated beyond recognition lying in a ditch along a deserted stretch of road. These bodies were not identified and were originally thought to be those of illegal immigrants killed by the drug cartel. The next slide showed a series of text messages between Lutz and an unknown person discussing getting rid of these bodies who were again people who dared to speak out against them. I now realize how incredibly lucky I am to still be alive knowing what they are capable of. A few more slides showing pictures of similar crimes as well as documents linking Lutz to embezzlement and fraud as well as other lesser crimes. Once the DA was finished showing pictures and describing the incidents he sat down. It was time for the defense to call their witnesses. There were a couple of character witnesses who testified to how great of a man Jason Lutz is and how he could never be involved in such terrible crimes. The next witness was someone I never expected to see again.

"We would like to call Lola Roberts to the stand your honor." He says smirking at the DA.

"Fuck!" I yell out at the TV screen upon hearing her name. Adam's younger sister strolls into the courtroom with her head held high, long blonde hair perfectly curled, wearing way too much makeup as always. God, what did I ever see in her? She walks up to the front raising her right hand.

"Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth so help you, God?"

"I do." She answers making me scoff. I know whatever she's about to say will be anything but the truth. Lola wouldn't know what the truth was if it slapped her in the face. Vasquez walks up to the witness stand.

"Ms. Roberts, can you please tell the court what your relationship is to Adam Roberts who testified here today?"

"He's my brother."

I roll my eyes knowing more than likely her only role is to try to discredit Adam and I. Just then the door opens and Detective Morgan walks in. He looks at me like he wants to say something but doesn't. He just sits down beside me and I turn my attention back to the TV screen.

"Can you tell the court what your relationship was to Jake Peters?"

"He was my boyfriend we were together for two years."

"Bullshit!" I yell out. We had sex occasionally before I realized how demented she was but we never dated.

"Calm down son." Agent Morgan says putting a hand on my shoulder.

"Have you seen the pictures shown here before?" Vasquez asks.

"I have. Jake showed them to me."

"Why did he do that?"

"He used to brag about the awful things he and Adam would do. He got off on watching innocent children being raped and tortured. They were the ones in charge of all of this they ordered Mr. Lutz and those other men to do those things and would threaten their wives and children if they refused." She says as tears stream down her face. She always could cry on the spot whenever it benefited her though I never thought she would go this far. I know she's an awful person but to make up a story like this I would have never thought she could do that.

"So you're saying my client only did these horrible things to protect his family from having these things done to them?"

"Yes, he had no choice."

"Why are you just now coming forward? Why didn't you go to the police when you first learned of this?" He asks her.

"I have a daughter she was only four at the time. Jake told me if I told anyone she would end up just like the girl in that picture and he would make sure I watched everything they did to her before they killed me too. He's dead now so I have nothing to be scared of." She says while fake sobbing. I turn to agent Morgan, obviously enraged by what I just heard.

"You know she's fucking lying right?!" I yell at him. I would never do those vile things to anyone and I would certainly not hurt a child. I would like to say I would never hurt a woman but right now I would love nothing more than to wrap my hands around Lola's neck and squeeze until every bit of life has drained from her body.

"I know. We are working on proving that. We were able to obtain a warrant for her phone records a few hours ago. I'm hoping she's stupid enough to have texted someone about her little show she's putting on here." He says. I turn back to the TV watching her ramble on about how I was supposedly the one pulling all the strings. I hear a phone ring and look over at agent Morgan. He answers.

"Already... great... ok I'll be there in a minute." He walks over to the door but turns and smiles at me. "Watch this." He mouths to me before walking out the door. A few moments later I see agent Morgan walk into the courtroom holding a stack of papers. He hands them to the DA and whisper something to him.

"No further questions your honor," Vasquez states before returning to his seat.

"Your witness Blackwell." The judge says. Morgan and Blackwell are still talking and the judge repeats.

"Your witness Blackwell." Blackwell turns to him like he just realized he was speaking to him.

"Your honor, may we approach the bench?" He asks

"Go head." The judge says. Both Blackwell and Vasquez approach and Blackwell hands the judge a stack of papers. I can't tell what they're saying but it is clear Vasquez is not at all happy. They argue for a few moments before Vasquez slams his hand down in the judge's desk. The judge gives him a warning look before saying something. Vasquez returns to his seat and Blackwell hands Lola the stack of papers. Her face automatically goes pale as she looks down at what he handed her.

"Ms. Roberts do you know what you're looking at?" Blackwell asks. She remains silent and he answers for her.

"This is a copy of your phone records. More specifically this is a copy of your texts with an unknown number that we traced to a burner cell. I will start reading and when I ask I would like you to read the highlighted area." He walks over towards the Jury before reading from the paper.

"The police are coming after us. You have to do something. Tell them it was all Jake and Adam's idea." He says then looks over at her

"Go on Ms. Robert read the first highlighted part." She looks up at the judge but he urges her to read.

"What do I say how do I make them believe me?" She says her voice barely over a whisper

"Tell them Jake showed you the pictures and bragged about making us do those things. Hell, tell them you were dating him. I'm sure they will believe he would confide in his girlfriend. He's dead Lola, it's not like he can dispute it. I promise to make it worth your time. Whatever you want just name it." He pauses looking at her again but she just sits there with her mouth hanging open. "Ok, I'll read it for you." He says before continuing. "Ten million wired to an offshore account that cannot be traced back to me." The jury gasps at his words.

"Tell me Ms. Roberts who is behind this unknown number?"

"Objection!" Vasquez calls out.

"Overruled. Answer the question." The judge says. She turns and looks up at him.

"Umm, can I plead the fifth?" She asks.

"You can but you're going to jail either way so why go down alone?" Blackwell says.

"It was him!" She yells pointing at Jason Lutz. "He did it! He threatened me I had no choice!" She yells and the judge motions for the bailiff to arrest her.

"You bitch! You're dead!" Lutz yells out at her making the jury instantly start talking amongst themselves.

"Order!" The judge yells out smacking his gavel on the desk.

After she's taken out in cuffs the defense calls their next witness. Just then the door opens behind me and I turn around to see Adam.

"How the hell can you two be related?" I ask

"Hell, I've been trying to figure that out for years. I told you she was psycho before you started fucking her."

"Yeah but I just figured you just didn't like her because she was the annoying little sister. I didn't realize she was actually fucking crazy."

"So how's life as Tristan?" He asks changing the subject.

"It's been good so far. I've made a couple of friends. Chase, the guy I'm assigned to, and then there's his sister MC."

"Haven't you learned your lesson about sleeping with your friend's sisters?" He says rolling his eyes.

"Ok first of all I haven't slept with her and MC is different." I take out my phone showing him a picture I took while we were looking for engagement spots for Hannah and Thomas.

"Well, she's definitely too pretty for you you sure you have a chance?" He laughs

"Asshole," I say glaring at him. "She's pretty much everything I've ever wanted and she's way too fucking good for me." I let out a sigh.

"Oh shit. Sounds like you love her. You've known her for how long? Like a month? Don't you think it's too soon for all that? Does she feel the same way?" He asks

"Well, that's complicated."

"Umm, how is that complicated?" He has a confused look on his face.

I lean closer to him keeping my voice as low as possible "Well you see before we met there was this guy. She had never met him or even seen his face but she was completely in love with him. He died in a shootout the day we met." I say giving him a look trying to make him get the hint.

"How the fuck did you manage to pull this one off?" He says loudly

"Keep your voice down! That's the thing though, I didn't. I had absolutely nothing to do with it. It was pure coincidence. I was surprised to end up with her brother. I made sure there was nothing linking her to me so I guess they didn't know any better."

"She has no idea does she?" He asks any I shake my head. We both turn our attention to the screen where David, our former coworker is testifying.

"You think the jury is going to believe anything after what happened with Lola?" I ask Adam.

"Not if they have half a brain." He replies.

After that testimony both the district attorney and the defense attorney give their closing arguments and the jury is sent out to deliberate. The door opens and agent Morgan comes in.

"You boys did good. It's all in the jury's hands now." He says

"So will I need to be here for all the trials?" I ask

"No, we don't want to risk them knowing you're alive. If you want to watch we can set something up where you can watch from home. You however, Mr. Roberts, may be called to testify in the future so you'll have to be there." He says and Adam nods.

"I'm going to need to think on that. This was really hard to watch." I say a little unsure of what I want to do.

"Listen, this is probably going to be the easiest one we have. Everything is going to get harder as we move up the ladder. So if either of you can think of anyone else who may have valuable information please let us know." Agent Morgan says and Adam and I look at each other.

"Well, there was that one guy." Adam says

"Yeah, we reached out to him when we were trying to expose everything. He seemed to be the type to want to bring justice to those who deserved it but we don't have much to go on." I say

"We never got his real name or anything else about him we only have a screen name." Adam tells him

"What's the screen name? I'll see what I can find."

"NightStalker21 but just so you know he's clean. He refused to get involved in anything illegal. He cut all contact when he learned we were wanted. You won't have anything to hold against him. He might just help anyway though." I say wishing I had more info to give him.

"It's not much but I'll see what I can do with that." He says and his phone beeps and he looks down at it. "Well that was quick, less than an hour and we already have a verdict." We all turn our attention to the TV as everyone files back into the courtroom. We all breathe a sigh of relief as we hear the jury deliver the verdict. Guilty on all counts. After we are sure everyone has left the building Agent Morgan turns to shake mine and Adam's hand.

"Well, thank you both for coming." He says like we had a choice. "You both are free to go. I guess this goes without saying but neither of you are allowed to leave the country. Mr. Roberts, you will be assigned to an someone on the west coast since he is on the east coast." He says motioning to me "Someone will get in touch with you soon. "As for you Mr. Duval you fly out first thing in the morning. I hope you have a safe flight and stay out of trouble. That goes for both of you." He says before walking out. Adam and I say our goodbyes before leaving. I text MC to let her know I'm coming back tomorrow morning. Since it's Saturday and she doesn't have work I ask if I can stop by. My phone beeps and I look at her reply.

Yeah, you can come hang out with me and Jared. Have a safe flight. See you soon. :)

Jared? Who the fuck is Jared?

#duskwood #duskwood community #duskwood everbyte #duskwood game #duskwood fanfiction #duskwood jake #duskwoodfanfic #iamjake #jake duskwood #jake x mc #Hope in Tragedy

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dancingamongstdust · 3 years

Text

Creepypasta Scenarios - First Meeting (Part 3)

I’ve opened requests now, if anybody is interested. Here’s the post:

Requests

Lost Silver

As stupid as it sounds, the game didn’t scare you.

It had started as a joke, something passed around your friend group after it had been discovered. The cartridge was just a janky version of a Pokémon game that was apparently spooky and so, everybody had taken turns messing around with it. They all said creepy things started happening but nothing too bad.

When it was your turn, you had been fully expecting something out of a horror movie. Instead, you had gotten a game that just had audio cut offs and weird notes warning you to stay out. It wasn’t all together scary.

You mentioned this to the next person you gave the game to in your friend group and they had laughed, saying it would probably ring true for them also.

But for some reason, your ally didn’t manifest.

Less than two days later, they practically threw the game at the rest of you and ran away sprouting things about curses. After that, the appeal of playing it kind of went away.

Nobody wanted to buy it and apparently throwing it out wasn’t a suggestion. So you ended up getting it.

Curiosity soon got the better of you and you booted up the game again, really sure that it would do something absolutely crazy but it never did. It ran like it always had with only that one file being completed.

So you deleted the file.

And nothing happened.

The next day, when you booted up the game, the file had simply returned as though you hadn’t deleted it in the first place. A similar thing occurred the next time. And the next.

Eventually you gave up and just started your own game. There, everything ran like it was meant to and you were beginning to think that your friends had all been imagining stuff. Maybe their paranoid got to them or something like that?

But eventually, the nightmares started. And they were bad.

You couldn’t remember exactly what happened during them. They were a swirling mess of games and glitches, horrible things spelled out in letters and blood covering everything. You would always wake up right when they seemed to be coming to a pivotal point. You’d find yourself dragged into a graveyard and then you’d wake up screaming

It was awful. You hardly got any sleep during them and they seemed to haunt you every night, keeping you up until the early hours of the morning.

But the worst only came when you didn’t wake up.

When you were dragged to the grave and looked down to see the ellipsis where the name should be. A punch to the gut that reminded you of what the game file was called. A confirmation of what was causing this dream.

You stared at it for ages before your eyes drifted up and you met his gaze. He was covered in blood, it leaked from every orifice and limb. It stained his dirty clothing even worse.

While you were staring, the world seemed to distort even though he didn’t. The game world melted away and your bedroom slowly reappeared.

It wasn’t until you saw car headlights move past your window – casting awful shadows across the room – that you realised you were no longer dreaming. He wasn’t a figment of your imagination.

The temperature in the room plummeted and you began to slowly reach for a weapon of some kind. He turned to look at what you were watching. His head tilted to the side and a glitch raced across his body before he vanished into thin air. Flicking on the lights didn’t show him hiding or cowering.

Perhaps your friends weren’t crazy after all.

Masky

“You know, if we had been a little more patient, none of this would have happened,” your sibling lectured. “We could be relaxing inside the car without having to worry about a bloody flash flood coming down from the sky.”

You shoved their back, forcing them to stumble a little as they went through the door. “Chances are the river’s going to burst its banks anyway. We would have been stuck in traffic for hours because the bridge is blocked off.”

“At least we would have been dry,” they muttered, running their fingers through their hair. “And not trapped inside an abandoned building.”

You rolled your eyes and made your way over the rubble to settle down on a camping chair. “Don’t even start. This place has been a hangout for my friends and I for ages. There’s never been a single problem bigger than a few spiders.”

“Till a landlord shows up,” they scoffed.

“Then we’ll move to the forest,” you joked. “I’m sure there’s a good bear cave we can use.”

“I’m going to be an only child,” they said, rolling their eyes. Still, they made their way over and sat. “How long do you think we have until the storm dies down?”

You relaxed back into the chair and smiled up at the asbestos-filled ceiling. “From the sound of it, a while.”

It wouldn’t have been the first time you had taken a nap in the building. You were scared of giant cockroaches coming to eat you once. You had gotten used to it since then but this time when you woke up, you were uneasy.

Glancing around, nothing was out of the ordinary. Your sibling was snoring in the chair next to you and outside the rain was pounding the roof.

You sat upright. Sometimes was definitely wrong.

Pulling your phone from your pocket, you got up from the chair and began walking as quietly as you could through the house. It had always been tiny and practically void of furniture, but the few rooms provided ample hiding spots.

Nothing but rubble was in most of the rooms but, in what you presumed had once been a bathroom, you found a person.

He had his back to you but when you pushed the door open to peer in, he spun around, his hand flying to his side. He was wearing a white mask, dark features etched onto it, and an orange jacket. A dark stain ran up the right side of it, emanating from under his hand. The oddness of his clothing made you immediately back away from the door, finger twitching on your cell phone in case you needed to call for help.

The two of you stared at each other in silence.

You were lost about what to say or do. The stain on his jacket was spreading and the more you stared at it, the more you became convinced it was blood. “Are you okay?” you finally managed to ask.

It took him a while to respond but then he nodded. The mask was unnerving you. You didn’t like not being able to see a person’s facial expressions.

“I don’t mean to pry or anything, but it really looks like you’re bleeding,” you said. “And quite badly. I can call for an ambulance or something although…” you turned your attention to the window behind his head. “I’m not sure they’ll be able to get anywhere with this weather.”

He stepped backward. “I’m fine,” he said, so soft you barely caught it. “I thought this place was abandoned.”

“It normally is,” you answered. “But we had to avoid the storm. I’m guessing that’s why you’re here also?”

“Yes,” he responded.

You waited or him to say something more, but all you got was silence. He had moved further away and now he had his back against the window. Part of you wanted to turn around and go back to your sibling but you were unsure about turning your back on the strange man.

The mask made you scared he could stab you or something.

Somebody calling your name made you turn your head on instinct. Your sibling must have woken up and realised you were missing.

Quickly, you turned back to the man, but he had disappeared. Rain spat through the now open window.

Nurse Ann

Everybody always warned you about exploring old buildings. They would yell about how many things could injure or kill you. Stray animals, drug addicts, old equipment, and all that. You had heard just about every warning imaginable. Ghosts were pretty commonly mentioned also.

But killer nurse was a new one.

“Come on, just give me a little more information,” you nagged. “I’m going there whether you’re with me or not so you may as well just tell me what you’ve heard.”

Your friend (and partner in crime for most ventures) groaned. “It’s not much. They just say that she guards the place and if you get too close, she’ll run you off with a chainsaw. Some people have died from injuries they got while there. Let’s just give this one a miss, alright?”

But you were not in agreement at all.

“Maybe she’s cute though,” you teased.

They didn’t find that funny and you didn’t push them to come with you. So later that evening, you snuck in by yourself.

The hospital was old with crumbling walls and smashed windows. It was hidden from the public by means of a tall barbed-wire fence and a substantial distance of open garden. Nothing too extreme for you and definitely worth the potential items you’d find inside. When hospitals went under, they often left tons of awesome stuff just scattered around.

You’d never sold anything you found in your abandoned building dives. They were more collectables than anything else but they meant quite a bit to you.

There weren’t any signs of crazy nurses as you approached the place. Nobody came running at you with a chainsaw at least. You didn’t even find evidence of squatters who could sometimes pose some danger.

After deciding it was safe enough, you lifted yourself through one of the windows and began to explore.

Honestly, it was creepy. Everything was way too old to be worth collecting and there were too many unidentifiable stains for your liking. The water damage was bad. It looked like the ceiling was there for aesthetics only and several rooms creaked too much for you to comfortably cross them.

And that was even without the awkward feeling of being watched.

You told yourself that it was just superstition but you couldn’t shake it. Every few seconds saw you looking over your shoulder in anticipation. It distracted you from keeping your eye on the path in front of you and the loud crack reached your ears too late.

The floor gave out and you fell through. Your shoulder hit some kind of metal object as you landed in the room below. Painful shocks ripped through your body and your head knocked against the floor with a heavy thud.

Stars danced in front of your vision and you raised your hand to the top of your head. Blood coated your hand when you lowered it to look.

Shit.

Shakily, you tried to pull yourself up but quickly found that your arm was too sore. Instead, you pulled your phone from your pocket and sent off the emergency text to your friend.

The world faded to black not long after that.

When you woke up next, you were in your room with a bandage wrapped around your head. You had felt like absolute crap but still gotten up to thank them for the save. They had nodded and warned you to be more careful, happy that you had been outside the hospital so they didn’t have to look for too long.

Before you could even think about how you had crawled there, they asked how you had managed to do your own stitches so nicely.

Puppeteer

Your camera was on 10% battery.

Grumbling, you shoved it into your bag and cursed your past self for forgetting to put it on charge. In order to get the best sunrise photos, you had found yourself waking up earlier and earlier. It was tiring but it was worth it… most of the time.

You just hoped that at least one of your pictures was usable but you could only check on them once you got home.

The streetlight above your head flickered as you walked past. It wasn’t unusual but when you were the only person awake for miles around, it was awfully creepy.

Putting your hands into your jacket pockets, you continued strolling back home. The neighborhood had never been dangerous and despite living in the area for your entire life, no incidents made you want to stop walking around at night.

Deciding that you wanted to take a precautionary shot, you headed for your neighbour’s house first. They had an arch covered in jasmine flowers that made for some perfectly safe photos and they never minded your presence.

After making your way there and getting a few photos, you were treated to the fright of your life when their began howling and barking. It wasn’t aimed at you but you didn’t like the noise regardless.

As you rounded the corner of the house, planning on racing back to your own home, you encountered the dog’s target.

A man – cloaked in the darkness and barely illuminated by the streetlight – opening one of the windows with ease. Irritated by the dog, he didn’t notice you until your finger twitched around the shutter of your camera. There was a flash.

His head snapped up and you screamed.

The man’s complexation was literally grey. He wasn’t just ill, he was the colour of storm clouds. Golden eyes with no pupils glared at you and froze you in place. Whatever he was, this man was the furthest thing from human.

Your scream woke your neighbors. The sound of movement began coming from inside the house.

He abandoned the window, stalking towards you. The air tingled like it was expecting a lightning storm. Golden tendrils grew from his fingertips and shot towards you. They had you pinned in an instant.

You struggled against them and opened your mouth to scream again but they wrapped around your head, forcing your jaw shut.

This was how you died… tears spilled down your cheeks at the realization. You were going to be an unsolved murder. All you hoped was you got a good picture of him.

Your neighbor’s front door opened and great dane let out an ear-splitting bark as he raced toward you.

The man, or creature, or monster, or whatever he was, released you to face the dog. He let it approach before vanishing into a cloud of smoke as its jaws reached him.

“What was that?” the timid voice brought you back into reality.

“It was trying to get into your house,” you said. “I screamed when I saw it and then it grabbed me.” Your voice changed to a whimper as reality hit you. You nearly died.

The small child of the house came over to hug your leg. “I’m sure Puppet didn’t mean to scare you,” she said. “He always comes to visit but he doesn’t like it when people make noise. You shouldn’t scream when you see him again.”

You made eye-contact with the parents and they wore expressions of horror at their daughter’s words.

“Puppet?” you asked in a small voice.

She nodded rapidly. “He says he stops by because he likes watching people. I think that he’s watching us all right now! But he can hide in the shadows too well.”

“I’m going to go and call the police,” somebody said.

You weren’t all too focused. The feeling of being watched grew heavier and you clutched tightly at the camera in your hands.

Slenderman

You couldn’t tell if they were being serious. You hoped that they were joking. They weren’t genuinely going to…

“No,” you stated.

The two younger children both turned to look at you simultaneously. Guilt flashed across their faces as though they weren’t aware you were listening. It was as though you were asked to babysit them because you didn’t pay attention. These two should have realised that by now.

“Do you think all the stories are true?” the boy asked. “I think that they are. One of my friends said she saw a huge dog in the forest and then it ran away after eating a whole cow!”

“No way!” his twin sister shouted. “Dogs don’t eat cows, so it can’t be true!”

You put on your best intimidating expression and crossed your arms. “I don’t care if they’re true or not. There is absolutely no chance that either of you are going to go running off into the woods with bears, wolves and all kinds of other creatures.”

The two children glanced at each other and bolted for the tree line before you could grab their shirts.

Thankfully your legs were longer even if they had a head start and you managed to catch up pretty quickly. Once you caught the boy and picked him up with ease, the girl dashed behind a tree.

“Can we please just leave?” you asked nicely. “If we forget about the forest adventure thing, I promise I won’t tell your parents and I’ll get you ice cream.”

The boy was trying his hardest to get out of your hold. You were starting to think babysitting didn’t pay enough.

“I don’t want ice cream,” the girl said. “I want to go and find a unicorn.”

She darted off into the forest and you let out a deep groan. Shifting the boy’s weight over your one hip, you started walking after her. If you wanted to give chase via running, you would have to put the kid down and trust him to follow or stay.

It was obvious that wasn’t happening.

It didn’t take you too long to find the girl. Mostly because she had stopped in the middle of a weird grove in the trees. She was just staring off into the dark shadows beyond it.

As you approached her, static popped in your ears. You shook your head in an effort to displace it but the closer you got, the louder it became.

The child in your arms whimpered, clutching his head.

You softly called her name and then it appeared. It was a man-like monster, standing just in the shadows of the trees. Easily over 7ft tall and insanely thin with no facial features. Your heart jumped into your throat and your stomach tied itself into a knot.

Without taking your eyes off it, you reached out a hand and fumbled around until you grabbed the girl’s shirt.

The static was getting louder and louder. You tried to shut it out as you started moving backwards, tugging the child along after you. She wasn’t willing to move her legs. She was entranced but whether by fear or magic, you couldn’t tell.

And then it was much closer.

You stumbled in fright, letting go of the girl’s shirt and landing on your ass. The boy fell on top of you but scrambled away and hide in the bushes within the blink of an eye. You sent a silent prayer to him to run back home to the other adults.

Once again, the creature was stationary but now the static was growing to such a volume that you could imagine your ears were starting to bleed.

You reached out for the girl again slowly, but something wrapped around your leg and yanked you into the air.

It took almost a full second for you to realise that the screaming ringing in your ears was you. Whatever was holding you tightened and whipped your body through the air. It was like your leg was being ripped away.

Then you were falling.

It was some feat of luck that you managed to twist your body, so you didn’t land on your head. You lay there for a while before something poking your back made you unbury your face.

The twins were staring at you with wide eyes and the monster was nowhere in sight.

“What was –“ you couldn’t finish.

“Slenderman,” they said in perfect sync.

Splendorman

Another stop…

You couldn’t help yourself. Every time you walked past one of the posters fluttering lightly in the wind you had to stop and stare at it.

A few days ago, your dog, your beautiful and sweet puppy, had disappeared from your house without a trace. The missing posters were depressing reminders that he wasn’t home. It hadn’t taken long for your mind to spiral into the negative thoughts about how close the road was.

Damn your coworkers. One of the had suggested the road in the first place and while they hadn’t intended anything malicious, it was definitely not helping your fears.

The dog had been with you through thick and through thin… if it was dead, you may as well have lost a close family member.

Hanging your head, you dragged your eyes away from the poster and kept walking.

People bumped into you, but it was your fault. You refused to look up in case another poster distracted you. Getting home before the sun set was your only focus now.

You had tried going out and searching in all the places where your dog once spent time to no avail. Always willing to try again, you chose to drop off your bags and head out later that evening when you ran out of distractions.

As you walked through the gates in front of your house, a gust of air gently messed up your hair. A gust of wind suspiciously similar to a laugh.

Your logical mind told you it came from the street, but something made you stop in your tracks.

The walls around your property towered. There’s no possibility that somebody could be in your garden. To try and scale one of the walls, they would have been in full view of your neighbours who would have undoubtedly called the cops.

“You’re sad,” the wind whispered before you could brush off your suspicion.

Spinning wildly, you searched around for the source. You backed up until your entrance gate was behind you. You could run down to the main street with ease if you could just get your fumbling fingers to unlock things.

“Don’t run,” the wind said, this time blowing from a separate direction. “I promise I’m not going to hurt you. I just wanted to know why you’re upset.”

Is this what going insane was? Nobody around and the wind was talking to you. You had always feared losing your mind and now it was happening.

“I’m real,” the wind said. “I’m hiding because I’ll scare you if you see me.”

“I’m going mad,” you muttered, shaking your head. “If this is somebody pulling a prank on me I swear….”

The wind quietened for a bit and then it picked up again, ruffling your hair as it spoke. “If I show myself, it’ll prove that you’re not going crazy, but I don’t want to make it worse by frightening you… you’re so sad already.”

“I lost my best friend and people have been telling me he’s most likely dead,” you hissed. “Obviously I’m not in the best mood. Now I’m losing my fucking mind and talking to air.”

The atmosphere around you dropped, like it does moments before lightning strikes. You glanced at the sky in confusion. As expected, no clouds in sight.

You lowered your gaze and a 7ft tall creature covered in bright polka dots stood in front of your house.

Once you screamed, it disappeared.

“I’m sorry,” the wind said. “I knew I would scare you, but I had hoped it would show you that I’m not imaginary. I’m just trying to help.”

The gate finally opened behind you and you stumbled backwards through it, your heart sitting in your throat. A monster was in your house and it was probably going to kill you. Spinning on your heel, you took off full speed back towards the main street.

You were fully expecting it to give chase now that you hadn’t fallen for its claims of harmlessness but it didn’t.

Instead you reached the main road and only got a few strange looks because of how much you were shaking. Nothing followed you.

The wind picked up once more. “I’ll try and help,” it promised.

People walking around you should have heard it as well but none of them so much as blinked.

Ticci Toby

While you had been told that a noise limit for the forest existed, your laughter refused to cooperate. It rang through the trees and probably chased off all the animals nearby. A picnic out in a national forest was a fantastic way to reconcile with nature and to scare it all away.

With eleven people in your picnic party, chances of any creatures coming into view were already slim though so you didn’t worry too much.

“We didn’t bring nearly enough fruit,” you muttered as you dug in the basket.

“Excuse you, I brought a whole watermelon but you ate it,” somebody answered your grumble. “If you want fruit, it is spring. Go and forage for some berries.”

You snorted. “Yeah, right. I’m going to go out by myself in the middle of the one season where bears are irritable as fuck. I know I sometimes act a little impulsively, but I don’t exactly have a wish to die at the claws of a grumpy teddy.”

Your friend leaned towards you. “Is that so? What if we split into teams and made a bet? Loser has to take a dip in the river.”

“A bet?” you asked. “I’m interested.”

She grinned and snapped her fingers. “Okay, there are eleven people so I’m feeling groups of two with one impartial party as a judge. We should be fine if we make enough noise and stick within close vicinity to each other. See how many berries we can gather?”

Tipping out the picnic basket’s contents, you smirked and pushed it into her chest. “Oh, I hope you brought a swimming costume.”

Everybody teamed up with ease and grabbed one of the many containers lying on the blanket. You headed out with your partner and gave a wink to the other teams. All you needed was to find one good bush first and you had it won.

“We should split up,” your partner said. “Cover more ground.”

You nodded. “We meet up back here once we’ve found a good bush,” you agreed. “And we shout if we find any animals.”

Obviously, your plans hadn’t involved losing your footing almost directly after the two of you split.

Tumbling down the small hill, you tried your hardest to protect yourself from the bushes as you went through them. At some point, you lost your basket and by the time you had finally rolled to a stop, you had no idea where it was.

Grumbling, you stood up and started searching until something dark caught your eye. Thinking it was your basket, you made your way over.

The clearing you walked into housed a scene you could never have imagined.

A dead bear lay slumped against a tree, its fur being what had caught your eye earlier. A hatchet buried in its neck was spilling blood onto the floor around it. All that hardly compared to the man leaning against a tree.

“Oh my god!” you exclaimed. “Are you alright?”

His head immediately snapped up, allowing you to see that he was wearing a mouth guard and a pair of goggles. Blood seeped from between his fingers where they clutched against his chest, but he hardly noticed. A hatchet was hanging from his belt.

Suddenly, you were wishing you had kept your mouth shut.

He stared at you blankly for a while, an occasional twitch minorly affecting his body. Reaching up, he took off his mouthguard. “I can’t feel any pain,” he said. “So, I’m fine. Why are y-you out here? The hiking trail is far.” He struggled with one of the words, seeming to hiccup a little on it.

“I was searching for berries and I slipped down a hill,” you answered. “Are you sure you’re okay? It looks like you got into a fight with a bear. Your shirt is all bloody.”

“I did fight a bear,” he laughed, gesturing to it. “I won.”

Your eyes grew wider. “I think you should get to a hospital. What’s your name? I can call somebody for you and we’ll get you medical attention.”

“Toby,” he said. “That’s my name. What’s yours?”

You gave him your full name and pulled out your phone. “My friends are close by,” you said. “Don’t worry, they’ll be here to help soon.”

When you raised your attention from your phone, he had disappeared and so had the hatchet from the bear’s neck.

Trenderman

Work was hard. It made your feet ache, it made your back click and crack, and it felt like the problems would never end.

Would you give up working in the fashion industry? Not a chance.

Your boss walked past where you were calming down an irate customer over the phone and dropped the keys to the front of the building in front of you. “Close up for me,” she mouthed as she left.

Nodding, you moved them to the side of the desk where they couldn’t be lost.

Once you had finished calming the customer, you glanced around to check how many people were left in the room. Three still working and one in the process of leaving. You were technically going into overtime at this point, but you didn’t mind.

There was a reason you were promoted so quickly.

“We need to set up cameras!” one of the floor managers snapped, storming into the office. She marched straight over to your desk and glowered at you. “I put this request in a week ago.”

Scrolling through the documents, you quickly opened the file. “I see but it looks like it’s been bumped due to a shipment malfunction, I’ll flag it. What’s the problem?”

“Customers or members of staff are moving items around and throwing things out without warning. We need to catch the culprits!” she snapped.

“What has been thrown out?” you asked. “I’ll add it into the information.”

The woman started listing quicker than you could type. “I’ve found crocs, toeless thigh-high boots, bellbottomed jeans, coloured faux fur jackets, luminous lipstick, w-necks, and jeggings all in vast numbers in the trash can. Every time I put them out on shelves, they disappear again.”

It took everything in you not to snort. “I’ll mark this vital.”

She stalked off and you went back to inputting the shipping requirements. You were meant to be organising what was coming in for the latest line and subtly omitting anything that wouldn’t sell well enough.

Slowly but surely, your co-workers trickled out of the office after finishing off their daily tasks. You kept going, trying to make sure you could have a longer break the next day.

Finally, when the sun had already set, you relented and started getting ready to go home.

You sung as you finished packing up for the day. Being the last one in the building (thus having to lock up) made you a little more confident as you danced around getting everything together. You slung your bag over your shoulder and happily trotted over to the door.

It made you so happy that your boss entrusted you to be the last one around. She was so hyper-protective of company secrets that you were proud of yourself for winning her over.

Your talent with people was something you attributed to dealing with painful customers.

As you passed through the store-part of the business you stopped to rearrange a mannequin. Every morning when you came in, you always noticed something had been changed with this specific one. You figured you could move something small and see if it would be a good place to set up a hidden camera.

Though you weren’t expecting it to suddenly grab your arm.

“You may be one of the few workers here with good taste, but I advise you don’t try and change my outfit,” it said. It didn’t have a mouth, but the words rang in your head, nevertheless.

You screamed and pulled away, tearing your arm from its grip. Shelves were knocked over and clothing was sent flying as you tried to escape.

The mannequin just watched you as you fumbled madly for the door.

The glass rattled in the frame from how hard you slammed it shut behind you. You sped off down the street, moving faster than you ever had before. You collapsed on your lawn by the time you reached the house, taking deep breaths.

Nothing had followed you. Everything was okay.

With shaking fingers, you dialed your boss’ number and told her you would be taking a sick day. There wasn’t a chance in hell you were going anywhere near there again.

Not to mention the mess you made… you were definitely getting fired.

#creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #slenderman #splendorman #trenderman #ticci toby #nurse ann #masky #cp masky #marble hornets #lost silver #puppeteer #x reader

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girlmeetsliv3 · 3 years

Text

Sandman II

Hyung Line X Reader

Genre: Mystery, Psychological Thriller, Horror

Rated: M

Word Count: 4.2K

Release Date: February 26, 2021 @ 5 p.m. (GMT-5)

“Three years ago, the town was rocked by the disappearance of YN YLN. A bright young girl who had dreams of attending university and becoming a nurse. YN was a kind, shy, studious girl who kept to herself and never caused any troubles associated with teens her age. So imagine her loved ones surprised when she disappears one night from bed - never to be seen again. The strangest part was that all her belongings had been taken, all the photos with her disappeared, and all her social medias deleted. But perhaps most peculiar was the wet sand found at the foot of her bed.”

Warning: Brief mention of death and suicide.

The first words out of Kim Seokjin's mouth when they reached the car, after having been escorted through the back entrance to avoid the press, were "I'm sorry." YN hadn't even known how to react before Seokjin launched into a full-blown ramble, "I'm so sorry about that YN. I just - I have been so worried. We've all been, and we thought you - but now you're here. They didn't even tell us even though we're listed and to just think about how alone you've been. How confused you must feel -"

YN placed her hands on top of his which rested on the shift gear, “It’s okay Jin. I understand.” She smiled at him tenderly before her sister’s words flashed through her mind, ‘Isn’t Seokjin the best?! He’s the only man you can truly rely on.’ Instantly YN took her hands off him, folding them on her lap. Now was not the time to dwell on those things. If Seokjin noticed the sudden shift in the air he didn’t comment on it, simply stating: “You’ve always been so understanding.” Before focusing on the road and turning the engine on, driving away. As they exited the parking lot, YN saw all the vans from the news outlets parked outside. Some she recognized, others she didn’t, but what she did notice was a large sign being held up by one of the reporters. It read: Sandman victim finally returns.

It was as much a shock to me as it was to everyone when Seokjin and I started dating. He wasn’t my type. I can’t say for sure what it was that drew us together - maybe loneliness - or maybe I just liked the way people stared in shock at the fact that someone like him was with someone like me. That didn’t matter though, Seokjin and the others were always there. They were whatever I needed them to be. They would do anything to make me happy, but I wasn’t the only one they treated as special.

When the car approached the front gate of Nagwon villas YN frowned, “Weren’t we going to the hospital?” The thought of being poked and prodded like a rag doll wasn’t a pleasing one, but she knew disappearing for three years and not remembering anything didn’t bode well. The only thing that could give a hint at what she’d endured, and why she’d forgotten, was her body. Seokjin shrugged, “I know you aren’t a big fan of doctors, so I asked Namjoon for a favor.” Namjoon? She wasn't sure she was ready to see Namjoon or any of them for that matter. She hadn't even thought about seeing Jin until he showed up. ‘He’s like something out of a fairy tale, isn’t he? A knight in shining armor.’ YN shook her head, don't think about her or you'll start crying like a child again. Everyone in her family had always called her a crybaby, teased her for not being able to hold her emotions in. Right now, though, she felt less like a newborn and more like an overflowed dam. About to break at any second.

“Are the others going to be there?” Is he going to be there?

“No, Hoseok is out of town. He should be coming back tomorrow though; I wasn’t sure if you wanted him to know you were back but it's all over the news.”

That wasn't who she was talking about and they both knew it. Still, if Seokjin was being ignorant then it was for a reason; so she went along with it. "Shouldn't it be Namjoon's dad?"

Seokjin glanced at her from the corner of his eye, “Namjoons a doctor now, babe. It’ll be him you’re seeing.” Perhaps still sensing her hesitance he continued, “Don’t worry his family has a private practice in their house for situations like this.”

“You’re all still friends?” She asked, looking outside the window at the passing houses. They passed several houses she recognized, having been inside a couple of them. Nagwon kids always threw the best parties; likely due to their houses being huge and the large amounts they could spend on booze. Her sister would always drag YN to one when she was stuck babysitting, at first she’d just sit around on her phone. Things became easier when they started hanging out with the guys though: there was always Hoseok to crack jokes, Namjoon to talk random things about, and Seokjin to offer whatever it was she needed. Yoongi was always there too, but they wouldn’t talk much just sit in silence.

“Of course, why wouldn’t we be? The best of friends.” There was no sarcasm or humor in his voice, he meant it. Maybe he truly didn’t care? Or three years was a long time to hold onto a grudge especially when the two at-fault for their problems disappeared from their lives. That’s probably why. With YN and her sister out of the way, things had gone back to normal for the men. Nonetheless, it felt like nothing between Seokjin and YN had changed, but that couldn't be true. It's been three years. That statement was difficult for her to wrap her head around, but it didn’t make it any less true. It had been three years and yet Seokjin acted like they hadn’t spent a single day apart. Her mind filled with questions and doubts, so much so she couldn’t help but ask.

“Did we hang out the night I disappeared?”

Seokjin took his hands off the wheel, she hadn’t even noticed the car had stopped, the look he gave her was a mixture of incredulity and hurt. “No, we didn’t. You told me you didn’t want to see me again.” His voice was tense, ears getting red the way they did whenever he was upset. “Don’t you remember?”

I did tell him that. She hadn't meant it of course, but YN tended to lash out when she felt cornered. Thinking back now, she remembered her cruel words how she had blamed Seokjin for something that was both their fault. The pain on his face and the desperation in his tone as he begged for her to forgive him, only for YN to kick him out and shut the door.

"I forgot. I'm sorry, Jin." She pressed her fingers into her palm, hoping the pain would take things off her mind.

“Hey.” Jin’s fingers gently gripped the bottom of her chin, “It’s okay. I forgive you, let’s just not talk about it again okay?” He pressed a quick kiss to the side of her head.

YN breathed deeply before unlocking the door and getting out. The Kim's large beige mansion stared down at her - it was the first time she’d been there, and the nerves were eating her up. Namjoon will probably have a lot of questions too. She had barely managed to get through one of Officer Taehyung’s questions before having a panic attack, YN had no idea how she would brave against Namjoon. With nerves clouding her senses she failed to notice the black motorcycle parked on the curve, slightly obscured by the shrubs. Had she YN would have avoided walking into a trap.

"Heard you got your ass whooped by Min." Jungkook laughed, as he sat on the edge of Taehyung's desk. "Did he take you over his knee and make you count to ten?" At that, a couple of others nearby chuckled. Taehyung rolled his eyes, "If he hears you, he'll take you over his knee." Jungkook shoved him softly, though 'softly' in this case meant Taehyung almost fell off his chair. Deciding to ignore him this time, he focused once again on the small font on his computer. Several minutes passed before Jungkook spoke again, "Is this about YN? If you're looking through the case files you won't find anything useful. Trust me, everyone in this room has gone through it multiple times."

There was a reason there was press lined up outside, nothing sold quite like a morbid story. ‘Girl disappears from her bed in the middle of the night with no trace behind’ had a nice hook to it. Taehyung had already been in the academy when it happened, but he was still shocked - especially once he found out it had happened in his hometown. Nothing ever happened in this town, they called it paradise for a reason. Yet someone had broken into the YLN family home and stolen a girl straight from her bed, nothing left behind but a bit of wet sand.

“It doesn’t hurt to look again, plus now we might get somewhere that she’s back. Find out who did it.” Taehyung scrolled down and started looking at all the pictures, he’d have to swing by the evidence locker later to see what they still had left physically.

“I’m just surprised the sister didn’t do it, given everything -”

Taehyung spun around quickly in his chair, “Don’t say that. Minsuh loved that kid, she’d never do anything to hurt her.”

“Yeah well that’s not what I heard,” Jungkook said matter-of-factly. “I know it isn’t good to speak ill of the dead, but Minsuh wasn’t as dignified as her name suggested.”

Taehyung turned away from the young cop, “Look you’re wasting my time and I have to focus on this case. YN’s going to come back tomorrow and we need to build a timeline, can’t do that without all the facts so just go away.”

Jungkook sighed, “Sorry man. I know the two of you were close,” Jungkook had seen how uncomfortable Taehyung had gotten when YN brought up him dating her sister. “But you know I’m not the only one that thinks so. Regardless, everyone knows it's not true now so there’s that.”

It doesn’t matter, Taehyung wanted to say, she died with everyone in this town thinking she was a murderer. Nothing will ever change that. Instead, he remained quiet, eyes focused on the computer screen. Gaze focused intensely on the pictures of YN’s bedroom as if they would wield together a logical story that would explain where she’d been this whole time.

Everyone in school had a crush on Namjoon. Smart Namjoon. Sweet Namjoon. Dimpled cheeks Namjoon. Girls and guys would swoon over him, talking about how they would love to feel his chest or sit on his thighs. They were all fools. Ah, yes, Kim Namjoon may look harmless but it's always the quiet ones you have to look out for.

It truly was a private practice, equipped with all sorts of equipment one might find in a typical emergency room. YN wondered why they would ever need something like that. Maybe high clientele? Though the closest things to celebrities that lived in this town were both Seokjin and Namjoon's families, then Jung's, and the Min's. Namjoon wasn't there when they first arrived but appeared quickly enough, the gentle smile on his face reminded YN of simpler times. "How are you?" It dawned on her then that was the first time she'd been asked the question. She'd been plagued by 'where were you?' 'how are you alive?' and 'I'm sorrys' since she'd woken up. No one ever thought to ask how she was.

“I’ve been better.” YN answered softly, afraid that if she spoke anymore, she would break down again. The men in the room seemed to read between the lines without her elaborating further. Seokjin squeezed her hand, “Well, I’ll give you two some privacy. I’ll be right outside if anything happens, okay?” Before YN could respond Jin once again kissed her forehead before walking away. Leaving her alone in the stark white room with Namjoon, who leaned against a medical bed. His left hand patting the space beside him, “Let’s talk YN.” She grimaced slightly. “You’re in a safe space YN. You know me I would never do anything to hurt you and Seokjin is right outside if you need him. We’re your family.”

Family. They had been a sort of family, the five of them: always hanging out, sharing stories, meals, and memories. It didn't matter that she was much younger or that the only reason she was tolerated was that Minsuh was dating Seokjin. They had always been kind, always been loving, always been there. Even when her actual family wasn't. They’re all I’ve got… at least until dad comes. Once she sat down the doctor offered a genuine smile, it reminded her of all the times the two would stay up late studying at the library. A warmth that eased away from the chill she'd had all day lead to the first genuine smile on her face, “Thanks Namjoon.”

“I told you to call me Joon remember?” His broad shoulder playfully brushed YN’s, before he began conducting his examinations.

“You know being clandestine isn’t your strong suit.” Kim Seokjin leaned against the black LeoVince Racer waiting for his friend to exit from the back of Namjoon's private practice. Min Yoongi looked like he hadn't slept for days and had the corners of his lips turned upward in a way that was half-way between a snarl and a smirk. "I'd beg to differ." Yoongi responded, approaching the man as he adjusted white medical papers into his jacket's hidden pockets.

Seokjin eyed them carefully, “If you’re caught with those you could face serious trouble.”

Yoongi laughed, “Who’s going to catch me? The sheriff?”

Seokjin rolled his eyes, empty threats and warnings weren’t going to change anything. “What do the papers say?” He tried to grab them, but Yoongi blocked his hand easily. Maneuvering Seokjin off his bike so he could get on it.

"Ask the doc or her. She doesn't keep secrets from you." Yoongi's eyes were cold and his voice lacked the playfulness present before. Seokjin knew better than to press his buttons any further, "Go before she sees you." Not that it mattered much, YN would be face to face with all of them soon - a reunion was inevitable. Nonetheless, Yoongi was a sore spot for her; the more Seokjin could delay their meeting the more things could go according to plan.

“So you’re officially a doctor?” YN asked as Namjoon finished up drawing the last of her blood. They'd done all types of x-rays, physical, and psychological examinations to check her well-being. No words had been shared between the two, but the silence was beginning to bother her.

“Well, yes and no. Still must finish my residency, but I have most of the hours done.” Namjoon replied nonchalantly.

Whenever the subject had come up before Namjoon had dreaded having to take over the family business, feeling it was a role he was being pushed into. Guess things have changed. “I thought you didn’t want to be a doctor.”

He shrugged in response, “I guess I finally understood why my dad loved it so much. Medicine, biology, psychology, chemistry are all things that are useful.”

“You became a doctor became because it was useful? That doesn’t make much sense.” YN chuckled as Namjoon placed a bandage on the inside of her arm. He chose not to reply immediately, instead, holding up a lollipop that was inside his pocket. She took it with little thought. “Little makes sense in life. Human beings are just inherent paradoxes.” Minsuh always said that. It was one of the things the two sisters never agreed on. Minsuh always argued that people could still technically be considered ‘good’ no matter what they did. YN disagreed. Can’t do bad things and still be a good person. Namjoon clapped his hands together, signaling they were done and proceeded to help YN off the bed.

“Thanks, Joon.” She shot him a smile which she hoped looked more sincere than it felt. Though tensions didn’t run as high with Namjoon as they did with the others, it didn’t mean it was smooth sailing. Namjoon, like always, understood exactly what she meant and didn’t push. “Of course, YN. Anything for you.” With the promise her results would be ready in a couple of days, he sent her back on her way.

When she exited Seokjin was waiting outside with a furrow on his brow. Now what? YN didn’t know where else to go from here, what else to do, it felt like she’d hit a roadblock. I could go back home. Was that place even home anymore? Without her family, furniture, memories – could she return, or would it be too painful? Was she even allowed to return? It had looked abandoned when she’d been inside, so certainly YN wasn’t trespassing.

“It’s okay YN. You can stay at mine until we figure something out. I wouldn’t want you out of my sight anyway, it’s dangerous.”

It didn’t sit right with her to rely on Seokjin so much – or be under the same roof as him – but she would be lying if she said it didn’t ease her anxiety. “You’ve already done so much. I couldn’t ask that of you.” Her hands were shaking as she said the words, but even if she wanted to say yes immediately. YN couldn’t be selfish.

“No, I haven’t. Trust me.”

Before YN could ask what he meant Seokjin took hold of her wrist gently pulling her to the car.

Jung Hoseok. Lovely Hoseok. Funny Hoseok. Sweet Hoseok. The boy whose smile lights up the sky and everyone just gravitates towards him. No one could ever dislike him. Mr. Popular always putting others before himself. Dear sweet Hobi is an angel sent from heaven, but he isn’t as innocent as he seems. People tend to forget Lucifer was god’s favorite before he fell from the sky.

“Honestly was it really necessary to put on this whole show?” Hoseok wiggled his wrists causing the handcuffs to jingle against the table. Taehyung’s face remained stoic as he proceeded to read from the file. “A bit strange isn’t that YLN YN returns when you just so happen to out of town, Mr. Jung.” His eyebrow arched highly, Hoseok would’ve laughed if not for the situation he was in. “No it isn’t. I take a family trip around this time every single year detective. I told this to the sheriff three years ago and I’ll repeat this now.” He leaned forward the mirth gone from his mouth, “I had nothing to do with what happened to YN. I wouldn’t hurt her or anyone else for that matter.” Hoseok sighed, leaning back on the uncomfortable chair. “Look officer, I know its procedure and the prime suspect is always the boyfriend, but it wasn’t me.”

Even if Taehyung doubted that with every fiber of his being, he had nothing else to go off on. Jung Hoseok’s alibis were airtight, had always been, not to mention it would be extremely out of character for him to harm a bug – much less orchestrate something to this degree. It had been reckless to ask for him to be picked up from the city, but today had been a long day and there were just too many coincidences for the investigator to ignore. “Very well Mr. Jung. You’re free to go but I suggest you don’t leave town on another family vacation any time soon.” He reached towards his belt, taking out the keys and uncuffing Hoseok. Taehyung was on a tight schedule anyway; it would only be a matter of time before the sheriff returned from his lunch break. Seeing his son’s best friend in handcuffs would only cause Taehyung to be even more reprimanded.

With the cuffs off him, Hoseok stood up, stretching his lithe limbs. "You used to call me Hyung remember? Back when you were desperate for Minsuh and you to be a thing." Taehyung recalled having felt the need to please her friends to get her to look twice at him. Where’s this coming from? Hoseok looked down at him with cold eyes, "You know we never blamed you for how you reacted to things ending Tae. Heartbreak can make a man go crazy after all." The tension in the room was palpable when suddenly a smile broke out on Hoseok's face. "Sorry, it was silly of me to bring that up. We were all kids after all." With that he walked away from the desk and opened the door, turning around just enough to wink at Taehyung before the door closed completely.

Hoseok felt his phone vibrate inside his pants and rolled his eyes, without even looking he knew who it was. Taking the phone out, he swiped right and immediately spoke. “Yah, you won’t believe what just fucking happened. Where are you anyway?”

“Sorry it isn’t much.” Seokjin apologized as he handed YN the pile of clothes. “Tomorrow we’ll go shopping for essentials.” YN shook her head, “Thanks, I don’t need much. My dad shouldn’t take too long in coming to get me anyway.” She placed the clothes on the banister in the bathroom, content to finally be able to shower and become clean. It had been a long day, some soap and water might not wash the pain away, but she could pretend it would. There was another thing weighing on her mind, a thought that would simply not go away. For as kind as Seokjin had always been with her, even he had his limits. This behavior felt a bit out of character with the person she knew – the one she remembered.

“Why are you doing all this Jin?”

The man in question froze as if stunned, "What do you mean?" His dark brows furrowed, his lips turning down into a grimace.

“Going to see me, Namjoon, letting me stay over. All of this,” she gestured to the bathroom which had been prepared with candles, bath bombs, and calming music. It’s out of character for you. Kim Seokjin had never really been the romantic type, caring yes, but not sentimental. “Is it out of guilt?” Is it out of pity? YN may not remember what happened the night she disappeared, but that summer would forever remain ingrained in her head. "Do you blame yourself for what happened?" Or are you doing this because you feel responsible? Which one was it? Maybe all of them combined?

Seokjin ran a hand through his hair, “Yes.” Without elaborating anymore, he walked out of the bathroom shutting the door behind him.

When YN walked out of the bathroom she felt much better. All of the day’s events had worn her thin and she was ready to head straight to bed, but not without seeking Seokjin out and confronting him. Yes? Yes, to what exactly? Everything? She hadn’t been able to find the house slippers she’d borrowed, so she traveled through the house and down the stairs barefoot. Barely making any sound. She could hear loud audio coming from the living room and voices on the other side where the library was. Though she could recognize Seokjin as one of the voices, her feet dragged her to the living room, nonetheless. Deeming it better to wait until he was done than interrupting what sounded like an important conversation.

The couch had been changed into a leather sectional angled towards the screen as had more of the décor. It looked less like a family home and more like a bachelor pad now if YN was honest. Seokjin the bachelor. He had always had someone attached to his side whether it be a dancer, cheerleader, private school girl, and eventually her sister. What about you? YN shook her head, wanting the thought to disappear as quickly as it had appeared. The television distracted her once she picked up on what was being said. It was a newsreel showing a bleached blonde with shiny hair and pouty lips holding a microphone. Behind him was YN’s home, or what used to be, in the dead of the night it looked eerie. After basic introductions the news anchor began speaking:

“Three years ago, the town was rocked by the disappearance of YN YLN. A bright young girl who had dreams of attending university and becoming a nurse. YN was a kind, shy, studious girl who kept to herself and never caused any troubles associated with teens her age. Imagine her loved ones surprised when she disappears one night from bed - never to be seen again. The strangest part was that all her belongings had been taken, all the photos with her present disappeared, and all her social medias were deleted. Perhaps most peculiar was the only substantial evidence found by investigators was wet sand found at the foot of her bed.”

“Try as they investigators could find nothing that could tell them what had happened to YN. Then a year later tragedy struck once more when on the anniversary of YN’s disappearance, YLN Minsuh – her older sister - took her and her mother’s life in a murder suicide. YN’s father who was present that night managed to survive. Many people took this to be an admission of guilt on the sister’s part, for the two had never had the best relationship. Though with no note, the case had no choice to remain open. Thankfully for a miracle would occur. Almost three years to the day, YN has returned to the exact spot of her disappearance. Residents and audiences nationally are overjoyed, and hope justice can now be served. Stay tuned as this tragic twisted tale continues to unfold. We’ll now switch back over to Bo for sports.”

A piercing wail left YN’s mouth as she collapsed to the floor. Immediately, she was scooped off the ground into a warm embrace. “Jin?” She cried, but when she met the eyes of her savior the round hazel she was expecting was instead met with sharp feline ones. "Yoongi?!"

Tag List:

@saxpam24

@cherriejams @electr1c-angel @uppiespuppy @illnevertrustmyselfagain

@dionysus-png @sugashaye @purpuravm

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dizzydancingdreamer · 3 years

Text

Steve Rogers, The Man On Fire

Hey y'all, as Pride month draws to a close I would like to post this fic. It's been in my drafts for a month and I finally today found the motivation to finish it. This is special to me for many reasons, one of which being that I'm proudly a part of this community. Some of the anger written in is my own. I think a lot of people will resonate with it. I really hope you all enjoy this and happy Pride Month <3

This was based loosely off a headcannon and once I re-find it I will credit!

Synopsis: Steve is freshly thawed, queer, and pissed | A.k.a. Steve's experience in 21st Century America

Characters: Steve Rogers, Mentions of Bucky Barnes, (loosely a Stucky fic but Steve thinks he's dead here)

Warnings: Angst but not bad, Steve Rogers being volatile and chaotic (we love), poorly written accents (I literally read this with an accent in my head), literally a 2k monologue

Word count: 5.1k

Steve Rogers came out of the ice angry.

No— not angry— Steve Rogers came out of the ice fuckin’ furious.

He came out of the ice with his hands curled into two fists, with his jaw clenched so hard his teeth were liable to snap, and with a bone to pick with every damn reporter and historian and too loud opinion on this side of the Brooklyn Bridge.

He came out simmering— no, erupting— like the serum in his blood couldn’t keep his body from hibernation all those years ago but it sure as hell won’t keep him from setting the entirety of New York on fire now. He’ll burn it all down if he has to and rebuild it the way he remembers it— the way Bucky would have remembered it— and at the end of it all no one— not the bigots or deniers or the homophobes that seem to be the only thing that came with him from the forties— will be able to say that Captain America can’t love whoever he wants.

No one will be able to say that Steve Rogers didn’t love James “Bucky” “the man I’ve loved since twelve years old” Barnes with everything he had and then some.

No one.

So he starts with the museums in Washington— because sure it isn’t New York but where else would a relic like himself belong more?

He still has hope when he enters the building. They didn’t make them like this when he was a kid— they had science fairs in the town hall and culture fairs in the backstreets near the docks but never anything this grand. No tall marble pillars or enough stairs to make him wonder if he would have been able to climb to the top when he was half the size he is now. It’s strange. It’s kind of wonderful. Yeah, the Smithsonian museums make Steve Rogers feel small for the first time in a very long time and that gives him hope.

That hope doesn’t last long, though, because soon he’s wandering through the halls, following the signs that say Captain America: The First Avenger— what the hell is an Avenger? Is that what they’re calling soldiers these days? Now he feels small and old.

Turning the corner is like landing on another planet, one devoted entirely to him. His picture is everywhere he looks, his name is in lights, even his damn uniform has been replicated and presented on a little stage and he hates it. The rage is back, sparking at his fingers— he’s a match and lucky for everyone this building is made of stone because if it wasn’t he’s sure it would be reduced to nothing but ash by now.

It only worsens as he begins reading through the plaques and the paragraphs flashing across screens on the walls— he doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to that. The more he reads, though, the more he wonders if the stone is really, truly safe from the fire in his blood. He doesn’t think it is.

He surely isn’t at least— he feels like he’s going to explode. This isn’t him— none of this is him. War hero. Martyr. Golden boy. He has to stop reading that plaque— clearly no one did their research. Clearly no one dug up his medical files— or his police records. Brawls at the pub, disorderly conduct behind Mr. De Luca’s sandwich shop, public nudity at the beach that one time— thank you Bucky for the best night of his god damn life. Golden boy— ha.

Golden nobody with the black eye and broken hand is more like it.

For a moment he thinks he’s fine— he thinks it can’t get worse than this. Then he gets to the early life section and for an even longer moment his tongue tastes like gunpowder.

Steven Grant Rogers grew up in the streets of Brooklyn alongside his friend James Buchanan Barnes—

He can’t bring himself to finish the sentence— not when they already got the most important part wrong. Friend. Friend? No, no, no. No! There are a million words in the english language that Steve could use to describe Bucky and ‘friend’ will never be the first one.

How about best friend?

How about partner in crime?

How about soulmate who loved Steve so much that every night for the past forty-eight days since he woke up in an era that Bucky doesn’t exist in he’s cried himself to sleep with the same cherry cola taste of his ‘friend’ on his tongue.

It’s the final straw— Steve loses it.

“Anyone got a marker?”

The museum is quiet before he speaks but when his voice— steadily rising and taking on that New York headiness that his troops used to jazz him about— cuts through the exhibit— his fuckin’ exhibit— it’s silent. It’s dead, almost as dead as Buck— Nobody dares move a muscle as he rips his ball cap off his head and throws it at the statue of himself. Everyone knows who he is— everyone is going to know who he is so help him god.

“I said—” he tries again— “does anyone have a marker?”

It takes a moment for the people around him to pick their jaws up off the floor and he allows them that moment with a smug grin starting to tug on the corners of his lips. Finally— they’re starting to get it.

He’s not a hero; he’s a supernova of every scrawny, queer kid who’s ever gotten beaten to a pulp for kissing who they want.

Maybe then it’s fitting that the marker— when it’s finally produced and placed in his waiting palm— comes from a teenage girl with a shaved head and a blue, pink, and purple denim jacket and a busted lip. She doesn’t say much— only a mumbled here you go— but her eyes say everything that her words don’t. Give em’ hell, Cap. For the first time since waking up he flashes a genuine grin back— yeah, this one’s for you kid.

Steve wastes no time uncapping the sharpie— he’ll look that one up later— and scratching out the error. The blasphemy to his unholy name. It takes him a little longer to decide what to write in its place. There are a million words, sure, but somehow none of them feel right at this moment. None of them are enough. That’s something he’ll have to come to terms with later, though— how much nothing feels like enough anymore without Bucky.

Finally Steve settles on a word and he scribbles it as neatly as he can given the fact that he hasn’t had to write anything in eighty years. When he takes a step back, feeling alive for the first time since waking up, he beckons over the girl with the shaved head and points to the place where he’s taken it upon himself to correct history.

“Hey kid, why don’t you go ahead and read that outloud for everyone here.”

He allows another moment— this time because she deserves the time it takes for her eyes to light up and the smile to stretch across her bruised mouth.

Steve laughs— a rusted, croaky laugh; another first in forever— when her head whips around, facing him as she loudly proclaims: “It says boyfriend. Steve Rogers grew up in the streets of Brooklyn alongside his boyfriend Bucky Barnes!”

“Damn right I did—” he mutters to the kid before taking a step towards the crowd of gaping mouths. “Did you all hear that? Don’t worry if ya’ didn’t— I’ll say it one more time. Boyfriend. Bucky was my boyfriend and if he was here today he would be my husband. If any of you have a problem with that then feel free to take it up with me. I took on half of Brooklyn for that man and I’ll do it again.”

When no one says anything Steve nods, turning to hand the girl back her marker and to thank her— he may be angry but he hasn’t lost all his manners— but when he looks at her she doesn’t look back. Instead she takes the same step forward that he had, one of her hands balled into a tiny, shaking fist at her side and the other wrapped around a cell phone that’s pointed towards the crowd. He doesn’t understand the mechanics but he thinks she’s recording.

“You hear that?” She parrots the super soldier with a wavering but fierce voice. “Captain America likes men! And none of you can deny it!”

This time it’s his mouth that drops, watching as she shakily turns the camera off and spins back around. Before Steve can say anything, though, she’s talking again, this time hastier, and he can’t help but think that she sounds so much like him. All flushed and scrawny and pissed.

“I’m sorry, I’ll delete the recording if you want but, I jus’ know these bigots are gonna’ try and cover everything up and that would be a fuckin’ shame. I don’t know if you know how many kids need to hear this. I did— and I think they should too. Only if you want, of course.”

He doesn’t answer right away— he can’t. It’s like looking at himself at fifteen. Suddenly he’s back again, his feet hanging in the water as his boyfriend paces behind him, asking if he’s ready to have him look at his knuckles yet. He didn’t get that many good punches in— the scrapes are mostly from the pavement— but Buck always worries too much so it doesn’t matter. The protective idiot.

Steve shakes his head, blinking away the sunset lingering behind his eyes. “Bucky woulda’ loved you, kid.”

The next time he loses it— the next time he turns into more flame than man— is after he saves the city he’s been trying to burn down for three months.

It isn’t long after that day in the museum when Nick Fury decides it would be best for everyone if Steve goes back into the field. Of course, no one really asks him what he wants— they pretty much just shove a new suit into his hands and tell him to get training, Captain— but what else is new?

No one really comments on his outburst besides that either. Can you really call it an outburst when you’re just trying to reclaim the parts of you that have been stolen? Sure, the press gets a hold of the story and, true to what the kid had said, tries to twist it into something more digestible, but no one actually addresses it up with Steve. Apparently when someone saves the world as good as he does no one cares that they kiss men.

Or that they don’t wanna’ to actually save the world anymore.

See, in those three months— between the training and training and even more training that Steve Rogers begrudgingly obliges— he has time to catch up on the world. More importantly, he has time to catch up on what the world thinks of him. He scours a plethora of documentaries, scholarly essays, and whole books of information about his time as Captain America. Well— his time as Captain America when it mattered. In all his scouring he learns one thing: everything written about him is wrong.

It’s all so fuckin’ wrong.

Just why the hell would he want to save a world so bent on destroying who he is?

The Smithsonian exhibition was nothing compared to what’s been written in the eighty years he spent in the ice. Better yet, nothing compared to what hasn’t been written about him. They’ve taken an eraser to every part of his life that doesn’t fit with the golden image that they constructed for him. A.k.a. every part that matters. His relationship, his past, every little thing that made him supposedly perfect for the role he was given. Gone. Erskine told him he was a good man— apparently he was the only one who thought so.

Apparently being a good man isn’t good enough.

They only wanted the perfect soldier. Yeah, well, they had one and they fucked him over too. Don’t even get him started on what they did to Bucky— Steve doesn’t want to think about what Winnifred— Winnie for short— Barnes would do if she saw the history books erasing her baby’s Jewish roots. Or his relationship. It wouldn’t be pretty, that’s for damn sure. If ever there was someone more protective than Bucky it would have been his mother. Not that there’s a damn note about her in anything either though.

Maybe that’s the final straw that does him in this time— watching the place that Mrs. Barnes loved more than almost anything else in the world crumble, while also knowing that the world no longer gives a shit about the two people she loved more.

“Mr. Rogers, this is where you grew up, is it not? Is there anything you would like to say about what took place here in your home city today?”

Maybe he pretends not to hear the last part— maybe he really does only hear up until where the reporter asks him if there is anything he wants to say. He’s been around quite his fair share of explosions; it would make sense that his hearing is a little off. Maybe he just doesn’t care anymore, though.

Scratch that— he definitely doesn’t care anymore.

And why the fuck should he? He does have something to say and propriety be damned he’s going to say it.

Steve stares into the crowd of faceless reporters and flashing cameras with a scowl on his grimey face. Around him stand the other Avengers— his ‘team’. The last time he had a team the historians screwed up the history for every single member. Dugan, Morita, Falsworth, Jones, Dernier, Sawyer, Juniper, Pinkerton. Barnes. All of them were brave men with families and sacrifices and all of them were treated like jokes by ‘reporters’ just like the ones in front of him now. He really doubts there’s a difference between old and new journalism.

The only difference is that now he’s here and this time he’s not going to let them write anything but the damn truth.

“It is—” Steve muses, brushing the sweaty hair from his forehead— “I’m surprised you know that though.”

The reporter cocks his head, clearly confused, and it makes the super soldier’s blood boil. “Come again, sir?”

“I said I’m surprised you know where I was born, kid.” This time when he says the word— kid— it’s derogatory. “Ya’ know, considering how you all seem to know nothing about me otherwise.”

Steve almost smiles at the way the crowd tenses. He actually would if it weren’t for the white hot rage coursing through his veins, mingling with the last of the adrenaline leftover in his system. It gives him an extra kick— not that he needs it. Even when he was just a runt from the wrong side of the tracks he needed nothing more than an offhand comment to raise his fists. Fighting to Steve Rogers has always been intoxicating— the aftershocks of winning the battle just makes it more thrilling now.

Who knew, right?

“Sir I asked—” The reporter sputters and Steve simply holds a hand up, silencing him before he can start again.

“Yeah I know what you asked, alright. You want me to talk about the battle here in New York today and how I am more than happy to have risked my life to save it. But I can’t do that, kid. Because I didn’t save it for you. I didn’t save it for any of you.”

Steve feels his team tense— maybe were it any other time he would stop talking. He would just leave it, let the issue go, because Bucky would tell him too. They aren’t worth it, bruiser, he would say, they aren’t worth your blood. Maybe he would listen to his boyfriend because usually he was right. Bucky was always right. So yeah, maybe he would list—

Who is he kidding; he knows he wouldn’t.

Not then and certainly not now— not when Bucky isn’t here to defend himself against everything Steve has been reading about. That’s exactly why he doesn’t stop talking. Someone has to defend him and who better of a person than him? So, yeah, he keeps going, even when he hears footsteps behind him.

“You wanna’ know who I did save it for? James Barnes, that’s who I saved it for! You see, just around that corner there is a bookstore. Rickley Books. That was my boyfriend's favourite bookstore. You know, the man who gave his life to stop a train in Austria from reaching the enemies? Yeah that was him. That train was filled with supplies. Had it reached their headquarters, who knows if we’d be standing here today. If there would be a New York at all. Not that you would know that. But who cares about that dead sergeant from the 107th, right? There’s plenty just like him.”

Steve shrugs nonchalantly— a move he picked up from the very man he’s speaking about— but he spits his words at the reporters with enough venom to cancel out any peace that the action brings. That’s his own move.

He keeps going. “You know who else I saved it for? His mother. Yeah, his mother Winnie Barnes. Wonderful lady. She used to run a soup kitchen a couple blocks from here. Kept the rift raft like myself from going hungry most nights— I was a brawler, you know.”

A couple of reporters in the crowd laugh at that and Steve flinches, his vision tinting red as he cranes his neck, seeking them out.

“Oh you think that’s funny, do you? You think I’m joking? I’m not. You ever been backed into a corner, son? Had people hurl slurs at you that I can’t even repeat today? Ever been beaten up for loving your best friend? No, I bet you haven’t. You weren’t a queer kid in the thirties. That’s hard— that’s borderline impossible actually. I only made it because of people like Winnie Barnes. That woman was a saint but nobody talks about her either.”

Steve has to take a deep breath, clearing the rasp in his voice that rises as he dwells on the woman he called his second mother for so long. She wasn’t just a saint, she was an angel. He can’t cry here though, not now. Not even as his throat begins to tighten.

“Winnie was the type of lady who didn’t let anyone walk over the little people. She used to sit me down and say Stevie you gotta’ fight for what you want because ain’t nobody gonna’ give it to you. She told me that I shouldn’t have to but that there were going to be people who would try to tear me down just for being me. And she was right— just like her son— because that was the era, you know? But now, here in the twenty-first century, you’re all still trying to tear us down.”

A hand lands on his shoulder, small fingers tugging at where his suit has begun to tear. Natasha Romanoff. He meets her gaze quickly, neck craning to stare down the red head, and in the few seconds their eyes meet it’s like Bucky is next to him. Somehow the blue in her irises catches the falling sun just like his used to. Steve can hear the gruff of his voice in the depths of his mind. Back down, bruiser. The sentiment is echoed across Nat’s face.

Steve shakes her hand off him, turning back to the reporters— don’t they know that he can’t?

“You all say you care about me, huh? That I’m a hero? You know nothing about me— you don’t want to. Before I was a soldier I was a kid. A queer kid. I said that already but let me repeat it. Queer. Did you write that down? None of you certainly did before. That’s how I know that you don’t care— because in an age where being queer is infinitely more accepted you still don’t bother to write it down.”

He pauses for another breath, shutting his eyes against the blinking red lights of the cameras. They’re like little demons, always watching his every move. Recording. Everything’s always recorded these days. Will he ever be used to that? Bucky was the technology guy, not him. Not then and not now.

When Steve picks up again— eyes open and shoulders freshly straight— it’s on a new note— a clear note.

“You don’t care about me— you certainly don’t care about the real heroes of the war because if you did you wouldn’t erase our history. Do you know how much it would have meant to Bucky to see our relationship accepted? The man who died for you? How much it would’ve meant to his mother? You can’t just pick which of our stories and our sacrifices are worthy and which aren't.”

He hasn’t spoken this much since he’s woken up, not all at once at least. Maybe he should have, though— maybe if he had then he wouldn’t feel like ripping the heads off everyone in front of him right now. Call it fight or flight. Call it revenge. Hell, call it whatever you’d like because it doesn’t really matter. Either way he feels like a kid again— again— backed into a corner behind the deli with his fists up and his teeth bared.

He feels feral again.

“So now you just want me to save the world like I did— like Bucky did— all those years ago— or maybe jus’ New York— as if that’s any better— and you don’t even bother to write a proper article about me? Hell, I never even asked for an article, let alone a whole exhibit! I’m just a soldier— and before that I was just a kid. If there’s never another article written about me I’ll be grateful. But now that I’m here, standing in front of you, I’ll say this—”

Just as Steve’s voice is cresting into a shout that would no doubt be heard regardless of whether or not the microphones were in front of him, Natasha tries one more time, her fingers slipping between his.

Her voice is a dull buzz compared to his, only reaching his ears by sheer will. “C’mon Stevie— we gotta’ go now.”

Like before he’s stunned but this time instead of seeing Buck— instead of hearing him in his head— he hears Winnie.

You fought good, honey. You fought good for us. You can rest now.

It’s jarring and it’s not lost on him the handful of awkward seconds that it takes for him to respond. That’s just the effect Winnie had on people though— still has, apparently. Steve shakes his head— I know, mama. But I gotta’ finish this fight.

“No, Nat— I’ve got to say this.” Steve mumbles— voice just beginning to waver despite how hard he clenches his jaw— before sneering at the crowd one last time.

“If I ever read an article from any of you that discredits Bucky Barnes, our relationship, or myself just know that I’ll come for you. I’ll come for this city. Don’t you ever forget who I saved it for. James Barnes, Winnie Barnes, and every queer kid who’s ever felt erased because of people like you. The bigots in the forties couldn’t stop me. The Nazis couldn’t stop me. Not even the Atlantic Ocean could stop me. So don’t think for a second that any of you could either. Have a good day.”

With that Captain America turns, marching off the impromptu stage and beginning the trek back to his apartment. He doesn’t bother looking at his team as he passes them— he can imagine their stunned faces well enough on his own. No doubt he’ll be getting another assignment from Fury soon enough to make up for this ‘outburst’ too. Still, he feels a little bit better. There’s an ache in his shoulder, and one under his ribs too, but he still smiles as he passes Rickman and Sons Books. That must mean something good.

The last time Steve Rogers burns he doesn’t burn the way he’s expecting to— he doesn’t vandalize his own name or blow up at a reporter. No, the third time— the final time— that Steve Rogers burns it’s with nostalgia— and with a damn good cup of coffee in his hand.

“I had no idea this place was even here.” The girl across from Steve muses, tiny hands shifting the steaming cup back and forth.

Her name is Ellie, he learned that back at the museum after asking for a copy of the video she took. He barely knew how to use his phone back then, let alone his email— hell, both still confuse him more often than not— but she had been patient. A little awestruck and a little riled up too but he took it in stride— easily. It’s not hard being nice to the spitting image of him.

“I’m glad I’m good for something other than making the news.” Steve chuckles and this time he means it— there’s no malice or ill intent, only humor. “O’Malley’s ‘s been here longer than I have. Looked a little different then—” he takes a moment to let his eyes wander the old coffee shop and it’s new appliances— a moment to feel his age catch up to him— “but I guess I did too.”

Ellie’s laughter joins in there and it’s strange— strange that he hasn’t laughed with another person in seven, almost eight, months; strange that her laughs sound so much like Bucky’s when they were younger; strange that Bucky isn’t here to hear. Here to laugh, too. Because he would have.

He would have called Steve an old man, would have wrapped his arm around his shoulders, would have asked— no, demanded— that Ellie try the plum cobbler. They always made the best cobbler. Bucky always had the best laugh. All grit and breath and him. Steve feels warm just thinking about it.

“Well thanks for letting me in on the secret, I’ll make sure to guard it carefully.” She even has Bucky’s warm sarcasm.

Maybe it’s not so much like looking in a mirror as it is looking at what he wishes he and his boyfriend could have been back then.

“And thanks for letting me interview you—” Ellie continues, setting the cup down but not before nodding at it, her eyes wide— “wow. You weren’t kidding about the joe, huh? Anyway— thanks for scheduling this. I know you’re probably super busy— and that there are more well established people you could have gone to.”

Steve sets his own mug down too— if he hadn’t there’s a possibility it would be more puddle than porcelain. “Well established means nothin’, kid. Not when you don’t have heart. They’re parasites, all of ‘em. The press couldn’t care less about me.”

Ellie nods, lifting the lid of her laptop. It’s a little bit dented and slathered in stickers, not quite the newest model— he would know, he has the newest one and it’s still sitting in his apartment in the box. Yet another testament to how little the people around him truly know him.

“Welcome to the twenty-first century, can I get you a side of classism with that commercialism?”

Now she sounds like Winnie too.

“Say, has anyone ever told you that you’re funny?”

She shrugs, tilting her head, a lopsided grin glued to her face. “Once or twice— I never know if they mean it or if they just want me to shut up. I never do so I guess we’ll never know.”

Steve sputters out another laugh because; “I guess we’re the same then— never give them a moment, kid. That’s the best advice I can give you.” He pauses— again— he supposes it’s going to be a day of pausing— he supposes it’s about time he pauses— before adding, “Bucky would’ve scolded me for saying that.”

Ellie’s fingers, swift and deft over the machine— Steve hadn’t even seen her begin to type— pause too as her smile softens. “What would he have said instead?”

Her question shouldn’t catch off guard— this is why he asked her to meet him; to finally, properly write his story— their story. Still he pauses— Steve’s empty hands feel hot, his shoulders warm; bare— what would he have said? It doesn’t take long to hear his boyfriend’s voice, not there but somehow loud in his ear all the same.

Just relax— they aren’t worth it. It’s too nice out to care about anything but the water— are you coming in or not? Summer doesn’t last forever, you know?

It’s impossible but Steve can feel the sun on his back and on his ears again, like he’s there— like he’s back, sixteen and on fire. Those were the days where everything made him cold. The days where his skin burned no matter the season but especially in August which was when the ocean was warm enough to swim in. It never stopped him from joining Buck— nothing could have stopped him. His cheeks warm, too, at the thought.

Steve blinks, his own smile— perhaps a little lopsided in it’s own right— shaping over his mouth. “He would have told you to relax— and to try the plum cobbler. It’s fantastic.”

With another giggle— and a reiterated comment— has anyone ever told you you’re funny, Steve?— they fall into a conversation, just a kid and a relic, about life. It’s not an easy conversation— but then again those kinds never are. It’s real, though, and unedited. Unfiltered. Just the way Erskine and Winnie and Bucky would have liked it— the only way Steve wants it. It’s not perfect but, hell, Steve has never been perfect.

He’s never wanted to be.

Maybe Steve doesn’t know everything his boyfriend would say— and maybe he’d be lying if he said he doesn’t blow up once or twice after today— but he can confidently say that he gave Brooklyn a run for her money— twice— and lived to tell the tale. He can say then when it mattered, he burned. That he still burns. That he will until he doesn’t— until he’s extinguished.

But, hey, though Summer doesn’t last forever, not even the Atlantic could extinguish the flame that is Steve Rogers.

That’s what he writes— in Sharpie— on the card he writes to Ellie— the one attached to the computer he knows he’ll never use.

#Steve Rogers #Bucky Barnes #Stucky #steve x bucky #Queer!steve rogers #Queer!Steve #Queer!Bucky #Queer!Bucky Barnes #Captain America #pride month #Steve angst #steve fluff #Marvel cinematic universe #Mcu #mcu fic #steve fic

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toriwakes · 3 years

Text

Pretty Boy 187 [s.r x reader]

summary: reader finds out that her new found tumblr crush is none other than her coworker.

content warnings: she/her!reader, mentions of alcohol

a/n: hi!! i’m so happy to be posting again. i’m really proud of this, so i hope you all like it! as always, let me know if you have any requests!

convincing spencer to get tumblr was tough. not only did he hate technology, he didn’t like social media either.

“it’s gonna be fun! c’mon, please?” you’ve been bugging him about it for about a week. “spencer, please just download it. if i have to hear (y/n) whine again i’m gonna loose it.” said derek, plopping is papers on his desk. “you like it when i whine.” you teased, causing derek to flash you a toothy grin. “alright! jeez.” you clapped of joy and jumped to help spencer, but he stopped you. “no way, i’m not letting you follow me.” he kept his phone facing away from you, your arms dropping to your sides in defeat. “fine. i’ll find your account somehow.” “we’ll see about that.”

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over the next few weeks you acquired a few new followers, only one catching your eye. ‘prettyboy187’ followed you on a quiet friday afternoon. the username caught your attention at first, but when you checked is profile? that’s when you were hooked. half of his pictures were just aesthetically pleasing: outside of his window, his extreme sugary coffee, some books. but others...

it was an excerpt of a poem and his hand was holding back the pages. you doubt he meant to capture it so beautifully. just his hand was godly. you wasted no time dming him.

hey :)

how desperate did you look right now? he followed you barley an hour ago. you cant stop staring at that picture.

hello

he didn’t sound happy. well, he didn’t “sound” anything, you guys were texting. but you could feel his tone through the screen. where you overthinking this too much? you shuffled into your bed, wrapping yourself in the covers as you pondered what to say next.

i just wanted to tell you i really like your account. are you a photographer or something?

no, i’m not. my friend convinced me to get this app and i noticed people post aesthetically pleasing photos on here, so i’m just doing the same haha.

ok, well you don’t post nice pictures. at least, not that type. maybe you’d post a picture of the snow or your bed, but every now and then you’d bless the feed with a picture of you in a swimsuit. it was more for opinions on the suit than anything else.

ohh. maybe i should start doing that.

how do you mean?

oh.

that sounded like a very judge-y ‘oh’. your eyes scanned your own profile to see what he could’ve hated. there was you in your favorite red swimsuit, a picture of your computer with netflix on the screen. the rest of the posts were of the same type, so you couldn’t pinpoint what the problem was.

what is it?

no, nothing. your recent picture. that’s a nice swim suit.

oh. that’s what he meant. you practically threw your phone across the room and squealed. thank the universe that he didn’t dislike you already. you shot him another text. just like that, you had your first ever tumblr crush.

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“what’s up with you pretty girl?” derek asked when you walked into work. you supposed you still had the blush on your face when pretty boy wished you a good morning and day at work. “nothing!” you said, obviously it being something. as if on cue, spencer walked in behind you also giddy. “what, you’re both sweet on someone now?” when neither of you responded, derek laughed. “what?” emily inquired, taking her seat. “spencer and (y/n) both have a crush.” emily’s jaw dropped. “spencer has a crush?” everyone broke into laughter, jj overhearing and almost dropping her files. “why is that so surprising?” spencer defended himself, derek giving him a ‘you know the answer to that’ look. “well?what’re their names?” he pushed. you bit your tongue. you didn’t even know his name. yikes. “let’s start.” aaron called. saved by hotch. thank goodness. “this ain’t over.” derek warned the two of you. yes it was. by the end of the day morgan would’ve forgotten all about this.

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you were right like always. morgan didn’t ask anymore about it, instead offering to get drinks. you turned it down, desperate to get home and text your boy. and you did, only at 11pm.

hey, sorry it’s so late. had a long day at work.

no worries, so did i. listen, i have a question.

this boy only sent messages that would make your heart drop. with a pacing heart, you texted back.

yes?

his ‘online’ button flashes on. then he was typing. then he was deleting. it seemed like hours before he responded.

what’s your name?

godamnit. you didnt have a display name because you didn’t want anyone you knew finding your account. what’s a fake name you can use? maybe...

lila.

why did you pick spencer’s ex’s name? you don’t know. you remember being insanely jealous of her because she got to kiss spencer in the pool while you were posted outside. your crush on spencer was still very much alive, but not as much as it was with pretty boy.

that’s a pretty name.

thanks. now you have to tell me yours ;)

you’ve never been so nervous for a text conversation in your life. for some reason, the back of your head wondered what it would be like if you were texting spencer. it was just a thought, though. spencer would never say half of this stuff.

call me morgan.

oh NO. please no... you stalked his profile again, terrified that you’ve been flirting with your coworker this past month. alas, your eye caught another body picture- this time of his arm. no tattoos like derek. not to mention he was much smaller. not that that’s a bad thing. you don’t think you’d ever be able to handle derek...

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you arrived at work yet again with a blushing face. “come on, you can’t keep hiding this from me! tell me something at least!” derek whined. “okay! his name is morgan. and i know what you’re thinking, and no, it’s not you, my boy is much more attractive.” derek’s mouth formed into an ‘O’ shape in fake offense. “that’s damn near impossible. ain’t nobody prettier than derek morgan.” spencer walked in now, again with a dorky smile on his face. “spencer. (y/n)’s got a crush on-“ you jumped to cover his mouth, the sound of your crush’s name muffled. “what- hey! no fair! derek gets to know but i cant?” spencer whined. derek held his hands up and sat back down, not wanting to get you mad. smart. “three can’t keep a secret.” was all you said before sitting down to clean your workspace.

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the new highlight of your day was texting morgan. you learned several things about him; he has a job he can’t specify for personal reasons, he really wants a dog but he feels like animals hate him. you told him about your cat joel, and how they could absolutely love him. he appreciated that.

if i tell you something, do you promise not to freak out?

depends. are you about to tell me you’re a serial killer?

no!

you giggled to yourself at your humor.

i wanna meet you.

you promised not to freak out, but you were freaking out. it was just now setting in that you didn’t know this man at all. where he lived, how old he was, even what he looked like. you took a few deep breaths and asked a question.

where do you live?

quantico virginia.

no hesitation on that one. he lived in the same town as you? you didn’t know how you’d be able to turn this down...

shit, me too. let’s meet up then.

i’ll send you a good place to get drinks.

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“every time you walk in here, you’re blushing. now so are your ears.” you beamed at derek, sitting at your desk before spilling. “i’m gonna meet him.” “wait what? are you sure that’s safe?” you rolled your eyes. “i’m an fbi agent. i’m not scared of a little danger.” you playfully winked and derek blew out a huff of air. “if anything happens, you know you can call me.” you pouted at your friend and nodded, appreciating his concern. spencer was spinning in his seat. “you happy too?” you asked. he only nodded and didn’t elaborate. you we’re going to press on, but hotch called you all in and you lost your chance.

♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥

on rare occasions, the bau got tough cases with very happy endings. this was one of those cases. the plane ride home was extremely joyous and derek offered to get drinks again. this time, everyone accepted (all except hotch). you texted morgan telling him you were going out tonight and you wouldn’t be back till late. you laughed to yourself. it was like he was your boyfriend.

♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥

the night was young and you were fairly tipsy. ok that’s generous, you were drunk. you were spending most of your time with penelope and it took you a minute to remember spencer. “ohmygosh! spence!” he was startled at your presence but he gave you that flat mouthed smile of his. “how are you! you’re my favorite scorpio.” you nodded as you said it, as if trying to convince him it was true. “thanks? i’m good. you’re drunk.” he pointed out. “no shit. hey!!! you never showed me your tumblr user! you gotta show me that girl you like, bet you she’s really sexy.” you didn’t even know what you were saying at this point, whipping out your phone and snapping a picture with spencer. “what are you doing?” he asked, watching you type. “posting this on tumblr! i want everyone to know you’re my favorite in the world.” he wanted to ask favorite what, but a ping on his phone distracted him. lila posted. he smiled and checked her page.

holy fuck.

♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥

“(y/n)?” he asked, not looking away from his phone. “yess?” you responded. “what’s your tumblr?” what is your tumblr? “uhhh..i don’t know, check.” you tossed him your open phone, and his eyes only grew wider. “you’re lila?” the words rang through your ears like a siren. “what?” the word was breathy, you couldn’t add stability to what you said. spencer showed you his phone, ‘prettyboy187’ on the screen. “you’re morgan?” still no confidence in your voice whatsoever. your feelings were supposed to change, you weren’t supposed to like that morgan was spencer. but they didn’t. you didn’t even think about the fact he saw your swimsuit photos. you loved that morgan was spencer, and you still wanted to see him on the weekend. “are you mad?” you asked, not being able to stop yourself from sipping from your glass. “no. should i be?” you smiled. “no. do you still wanna meet up this weekend?” “yes. but i don’t wanna get drinks.” he wasn’t even drinking, why is he complaining. “where should we go then?” “my house.”

#spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #ssa spencer reid #ssa reid #dr spencer reid #doctor spencer reid #criminal minds

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inlustrissss · 3 years

Text

Puzzle to solve

Death Note: L Lawliet x fem!Reader

Warnings: “spoilers”? If you haven’t watched DN, mentioning of death, some slight angst but a bittersweet ending... maybe?

summary: When the greatest detective L was feeling that his life is coming to an end, he recognized his last seconds were like a cheesy book would describe it: his life flashed before his inner eye and recalled his first meeting with his lover, as she was the last thing he had seen

My requests are open!! submit here .

“Making money off of your niece with her intelligence?”

The moment she had decided to help her beloved, (Y/N) knew what she was getting herself into. It was the first topic every night when the investigators parted ways and only her stayed behind to enjoy a little bit of privacy in their lately secluded relationship. It hasn’t been this dangerous since the Los Angeles BB murder case.

“Yet she isn’t intelligent enough so you plan on combining our abilities?”

While Watari was on the line with the investigators who had gathered in front of Ryuzaki, the main head of the Kira case. “Wait Ryzaki!”, said Aizawa, one of the members of the Japanese Task Force, the very organization to catch Kira. “It does sound a little bit off and dangerous Ryzaki.. another humans life is at stake.”, said (Y/N) calmly as the delicate hand got a grip on her chin, thinking about what plan the detective just proposed. “What does it even accomplish?!”, yelled the same male at the pale man who sat in front of the computer screens.

“Obviously, to see if the notebook works.”, he answered. His plan was to pick one criminal who was scheduled for an execution and write their name into the Death Note. “Watari, I want you to contact a leader of a country who would agree to this.”, Ryuzaki stated calmly into the microphone, awaiting his butlers response, although nothing came. The only sound that came through the speaks flying into the ears of the investigators was a loud crash- “Watari?”, asked (Y/N) with concern lacing her voice, eyebrows furrowed she takes a step forward.

“Would you still like to meet her, L?”

“Watari what’s wrong, answer us.”, stated Ryuzaki in a low tone, although he as well was concerned for the man he knew almost his whole life. One thing led to the other and- “Data deleted?”

“What’s going on!”, asked Matsuda as he stepped forward too, to get a better look at the situation unfolding before everyone. All of the screens in front of the Task Force read “All data deleted.”, were the computers perhaps corrupted? No, this can’t be.

Ryuzakis head lowered, his long and soft dark bangs falling into his face. “No, this can’t be-!”, almost dropping the act, (Y/N) stopped herself. Even in situations like these, she cannot afford to risk her life and give away her true identity, even if something had happened to her beloved uncle.

Luckily, (Y/N) lover and partner in crime beat her to it, cutting her off by an explanation and confirming her dangerous train of thought: “I told Watari to delete all the possible files he can delete if something would have ever happened to him.”, his eyes growing as colder and fixated as a rock on the screen reading the letters, “If something would’ve happened to him.. you don’t mean that he could’ve died, do you..?”, asked the usual cheerful Matsuda carefully.

“H-hey, wait a second-”, stuttered Aizawa as he was glancing around the room, (Y/N)s ears perked up, “where is the Shinigami?!”

Taking a spoon, ready to dive into the plate full of sweet chocolate cake, Ryuzaki spoke up, “Everyone, the Shinigami--”, but before he could continue his sentence, he stopped in his tracks, sucking in the air sharply, making (Y/N) turn around quickly, as if a lightning had forced itself through her veins.

It was silent, “Ryuzaki..?”, asked Matsuda quietly.

L’s grip loosened as the cold spoon softly made its way out of the grasp of the males slender, pale fingers before meeting the ground harshly. A few seconds in and soon L’s body had followed the spoon, right about to hit the linoleum floor.

(E/C) orbs widening, seeing her lovers figure fall, she acted quickly, catching up to L’s body and falling with it, only to land in Lights- “L, what’s wrong- hey!!”, she started, softly yet harshly at the same time touching L’s cheek. Her heartbeat quickening, “Answer me, damnit!”, she said as she tried to shake the man back into consciousness, yet he wouldn’t come back.

All that his onyx eyes caught on to were the ones of the most beautiful woman in his life.

“Yes.”

“Would it be alright if I’d bring her around tomorrow by 8?”

“Yes, mister Wammy. I will make sure to be free of any cases.”

“L don’t you dare to joke around, wake the hell up!”, switching back and forth to japanese and english, (Y/N) called out to L. He on the other hand hadn’t found the strength to respond in any form- he didn’t feel pain, strangely enough, he couldn’t feel anything. Thoughts clouding his mind he couldn’t decipher which was real and which were memories of his life. He heard the voices of the Task Force, Light, Watari, (Y/N)- it was all a mix, echoing in his head. Feeling a certain wetness on his face, like a gentle and warm rainfall a piercing scream was heard.

“Uncle Quillsh, will we go meet the boy you were telling me about?”, setting down her teacup, the little girl smiled as Quillsh Wammy answered with a ‘Yes Miss (Y/N)’. “We will leave today?”, another yes and another excited giggle: “So this is why you made me dress up this fancy.” Letting her short legs dangle down the seat, she let her uncle Quillsh finish up tying her hair neatly into two cute ponytails, before jumping down and taking his hand into hers.

“Why do you think am I suited as his partner, uncle Quillsh?”, asked the smart seven years old. The old man only chuckled at his niece curiosity, “I am almost certain you will get along quite well with L.”

Opening the door to the mansion he left the orphan to solve ‘puzzles’, as he’d like to call it, he lead his little niece inside. “With your outstanding knowledge about human emotions, I’m sure it will be easy for you to keep the little guy in check.”

“In check you say...”, pouting at Quills choice of words, too lazy to attend to more work than the investigations the little girl had to go through under her alas. Waiting for a response after they had knocked on to a door leading to the detectives room, the little girl wondered: would he be another puzzle to solve? Not that she didn’t mind, just like the mastermind himself, she loved the difficulty. But humans are sure far more difficult to deal with.

Stepping inside the room, she noticed a boy sitting in the middle of it, in front of a seemingly uncountable number of computers. “Good morning, L.”, said Quillsh, “This is my niece, (Y/N)”, gently pushing her into his direction, the boy didn’t mind to turn around. He didn’t say anything, but that never necessarily meant that he wasn’t interested into something.

One simple look at the little boy was enough for the girl to determine, that he actually wasn’t as hard to solve as she thought he would be. She wouldn’t even have to keep up with his intelligence, for some reason, that she can not explain, had an easier time than anybody else to read the mononymous person L. He seemed emotionless (that’s how Quillsh would describe him as) but he was still human after all.

As the silence grew, L slowly turned around, wondering why she hasn’t spoken up- that’s how girls usually are right? Not like he would know though, he never had a friend.

Th darkest sets of eyes, circled by an unhealthy dark tone met up with beautiful (E/C) globes.

Yet it wasn’t for her beauty that sparked his interest, it was her unique nature.

He secretly cursed himself in those 40 seconds that he was not able, in his whole life, to ask this very girl- this woman- to be his wife.

“Please, (Y/N), calm down..!”, one of the investigators tried, yet Light only dismissed them. Maybe for his amusement to continue watching his enemy squirm, but something stirred inside of him.

Gently gazing intently into her visage, it was like L was just laying there, untouched by the deaths kiss. But now he was gone, and yet here she was, her puzzle left unsolved.

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limitlessgojo · 3 years

Text

Blood Bound: Blackened Bond (Ch 15.5)

Warnings: Action, Coarse Language, Fighting, Descriptions of Blood

Previous Chapter: Shadows Fall

Next Chapter: Non-Standard

Word count: 2.4k

Tags: Kamo Noritoshi x Reader, Soulmates AU, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Fem!Reader

Taglist: @lessie-oxj @rizzo-nero @whoreuc @fkngkumiko @isl3t @gojoussunglasses @onepotatostand-blog @s-t-f-u-b-i-t-c-h @sunaswife @lordguameow @track5enthusiast @nayydoesthings

Notes: If you want to be tagged for every update, and specify if you're okay with nsfw posts or not, please mention it in the comments below ty❤

Author's Notes: This is a deleted chapter but I decided to just put it as an extra/half chapter. I took a step back to assess my drafts and deemed that it didn't need to be in the story for it to be cohesive. But this is full of extra info that will be quite significant in the chapters to come^^

土御門天皇

Chapter 15.5: Tsuchimikado

“Geto Suguru has pronounced war against the Jujutsu Society. We are expecting there to be an ambush here in Kyoto and one in Tokyo Shibuya. We must prepare thoroughly. Amongst the students we will only be asking Jujutsushi of Grade 3 or higher to assist us in this battle. And you may opt out if you do not wish to fight. But your help will be highly appreciated, especially on such short notice.” Principal Gakuganji ended his speech by looking at you dead in the eye.

And deep in your gut, you knew you didn’t have so much as a choice. You were going to fight this battle as a Special Grade sorcerer (and being the only one in this room at the moment), whether you liked it or not. So you gave a short nod in return.

“I’ll be joining. As the future clan head of the Kamo clan and the eldest son, this is not a matter to be ignored or taken lightly.” Your head whipped around to face Noritoshi and to your biggest surprise he was looking straight at you. Then he turned to nod to Principal Gakuganji who nodded back approvingly.

“I’m always up for a good fight, so of course I’ll be joining. Can’t miss out on a chance to beat down curses.” Todo grinned and cracked his fists.

“Will you join, Tsuchimikado?” Utahime asked.

Everyone was silent as you looked at her then the Principal. “Of course I will.”

Everyone else called out to say if they were participating or not. After the meeting was finished after several more announcements, and you left back for your dorm rooms.

◇◇◇

The next day, Utahime sensei called in some students plus Hiroki into her office. You all filed in, wondering what it was about. Hiroki nudged you, “Why am I here with yall kids?” You pinched him in return.

Outside the door, you went face to face with Noritoshi. He gently called your name, “Good morning Y/N.” You just purse your lips and nod.

In this time of war, you need to set aside all personal matters. It’s all business; everyone had to cooperate together to have a chance of surviving.

You counted and named the people present. Noritoshi, Todo senpai, You and Hiroki. That was it.

Utahime let you all sit down on chairs facing her desk before calling your attention, “So, I called you all here today, because we have some information on the possible curses that might appear here at Kyoto. As you know, Geto Suguru has the ability to manipulate and take in curses.

We know of some grade 1 and special grade curses. I decided that amongst the students, the three of you are the most capable in handling those. Hiroki san, you’ve stated that you’ll be fighting alongside your cousin, so I brought you in here today so that both of you can prepare together.”

He grinned, “Of course Utahime san. We got this in the bag sis.” He punched you softly in the arm, and you softly hit him in the head. A childhood habit of yours.

So Utahime sensei then explained and listed off the curses that are known to be in his possession. All of you paid close attention and took notes. Most were Grade 1 and 2.

“And finally. We know of another Special Grade curse, the Giant Black Tsuchigumo of Kyoto. This curse is-” she continued to speak, but it felt like radio static on your end. You couldn’t hear anything anymore.

The blood drained out of both your and Hiroki’s faces. ‘Huh? I thought that nightmare was already done and gone. Whatthefuck’

Your right hand shot out to grab at Hiroki. Utahime paused at the sudden movement. It was getting harder to breathe, and you could feel the onset of the panic attack kicking in.

You’ve done so well recovering from anxiety attacks over the years, but this just made you feel so helpless. “Sorry, can’t breathe.” You gasped out.

“Give her space!” Utahime and the others pushed back the chairs and desk. Hiroki caught you as you leaned your forehead against the top of his chest and settled on the ground.

“Breathe in 2 3 4, hold 2 3 4 5 6 7 8, out 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9, and again,” Hiroki repeated your go to breathing exercises, ignoring how your nails dug into his arms. It took you a good 7 minutes to calm down. “I’m so sorry,” you apologized, wiping your sweaty palms off your thighs.

You looked down at your hands to see them still shaking. Utahime, Noritoshi and Todo were all kneeling with you on the floor. “Don’t apologize. You have nothing to be sorry for.” Utahime patted your head lightly.

“Tsuchigumo. That big black one is dead. I have no idea which one you’re talking about right now, but the one that reigned in Kyoto is dead.” you said. “Gojo Satoru and I killed that curse back in late 2007.”

Noritoshi inched closer to you. Hiroki stiffened, watching him closely, but he didn’t do anything to close the gap. He just stayed by your other side, a silent and steady presence.

Utahime reached out to wipe your sweat with a towel. You only noticed now that the room has been rearranged, chairs pushed away to make a bit of space. There were cushions on the ground for everyone to sit on.

“Drink.” Hiroki pushed a cup of hot tea into your hands. You nearly spilled it, but he cupped your hands firmly, helping you drink. You leaned against your cousin, sighing at his warmth.

Hiroki spoke up, “As you can see, it is a bit of a touchy subject for the both of us. Our clan had a bad run in with that Tsuchigumo years back when sis was only 6 years old. But we are pretty sure that, like she said, Gojo and Geto san have gotten rid of it.”

Utahime nodded, “Geto did huh. Then he must have taken it in during that time.”

Noritoshi looked at you and realized that something far worse than just an attack happened. “Your sister,” he spoke quietly, “was she…?”

Hiroki raised his eyebrows. “Yes, our Sora was killed by that Tsuchigumo.”

The atmosphere in the room turned heavy and almost unbearable. Utahime looked concerned, “We need as much information on that Tsuchigumo as we can. Y/n, can you tell us anything?”

Oh yeah, just the one memory you’ve desperately tried to forget your entire life. Still you nodded.

Hiroki squeezed you.

“So basically.” You paused. “One night when I was 6, Sora neechan was like 10 years old. We got attacked near the Kiyomizu shrine. It was getting late, the sun was setting. But we were up at Daimonji-yama to play, and there were barely any people around. It wasn’t too dark yet, but it was really quiet.” Your teeth were practically chattering.

Noritoshi met your eyes and for a moment you wanted him to hold you. Until you remembered you were supposed to be angry with him, so you brushed it off and looked elsewhere.

“Satoru nii and Geto san were actually in Kyoto at that time to visit us. So I remember calling Toru nii and screaming for help, he was on my speed dial. He told us that we could call for help anytime. We are pretty much like siblings to each other. So he would always come to our aid. Right niichan?”

You leaned into Hiroki as he let out a small “Yep. He never lets us down. Dumb as he is.” Your lips actually quirked into a small smile at that.

“Sora and I basically had to hold off the curse until they got there. But it was strong. As you know, Tsuchigumo are earth spiders. But this particular one reigned in Kyoto for so long. Like centuries. It was so strong it ate every other tsuchigumo, making it grow bigger. Still, it rarely comes out to feed and is adept at hiding. We like to think of it as a smart curse. Every bite is laced with poison.”

“Back then I only mastered basic freezing and wind manipulation techniques. I couldn’t make barriers yet. And it really…” you closed your eyes remembering that sense of helplessness you’ve felt like never before.

“It was the worst 10 minutes of my life. I couldn’t do anything to hurt it. I had another technique I was working on, but it involved using reverse cursed techniques which I didn’t perfect yet. And I didn’t like playing with fire as much as I did with water and ice.”

“I froze it several times, but my technique was way too weak. It kept breaking free. Sora nee didn’t even have a cursed technique; she couldn’t fight. But still she felt responsible for me since she was older, so she …” you stopped. You closed your eyes and tightened your fist.

At this point your nails were drawing blood from your palms, but you didn’t feel the pain. “It’s so stupid really.” You laughed out loudly trying to distract everyone from the tears that were forming in your eyes.

Noritoshi reached out to you. But Hiroki’s eyes flashed at him in warning and he dropped his hands. Your heart squeezed painfully.

“I was just a stupid kid, who let her weaker sister take the shot of poison from that Tsuchigumo, instead of facing it head on. She wouldn’t let go of me no matter how hard I tried to put her behind me. A huge part of me was scared and terrified that night of course. I didn’t know what to do and I was such a coward. It was about to hit me until Satoru nii came.” You took a deep breath and forced out the remainder of the story.

“So I actually did manage to activate my reverse cursed technique towards the end, but it was too much. I burned nearly half of the mountain…. My mom had to help in restoring a large part of it afterwards. Satoru finished it off and carried us away immediately.”

“But Su- Geto san. Like he has the cursed spirit manipulation right? I never realized if he took it in or not really. I never particularly cared about it that night, because Sora nee was dying in my arms.” You rushed your words and pushed further into Hiroki’s arms.

“It was a bad omen for our clan,” Hiroki’s teeth were gritted tight as he relived your stories. “For such a powerful and evil curse to share a part of our namesake, only to hurt one of our own. After that day, we hunted down all the Tsuchigumo we could find across the entire country as a priestess told us to do so to cleanse our clan of a lingering curse. But… for some reason it was never enough. Now we know… it still lives with Geto san.”

“What painful memories,” Todo cried. “We will help you take it down, y/n. And I don’t doubt that you can defeat it the way you are right now.” You were touched by his words.

“But can you face it once more?” He asked.

“I’ve been training all my life for a day like this. Of course I’m going to throw that thing into the depths of hell.”

“Careful there.” Hiroki nii was eyeing you carefully. “You tend to rush headfirst when you’re being controlled by your emotions. You’re too reckless lil sis.”

“That’s true.” Noritoshi hummed. You glared at him. “If it’s to save a life, why not.” You shot back and had a stare off with Noritoshi.

More like a one sided glare on your part and him lovingly looking back at you with a sad smile. Noritoshi’s bond mark burned.

"Ahem." Hiroki cleared his throat loudly and everyone turned to him. "I'll be watching over lil sis here so it should be fine. I'll be joining this war anyways."

You smiled at your cousin gratefully.

“Well then. That was the last curse that needed explaining. I think the four of you are suited to taking them down. You’re all dismissed.”

You all nodded at Utahime, rising to your feet along with everyone else.

◇◇◇

“Y/n! I need to talk to you.” Mai said urgently. She followed you back to the first year dorms after class. You had told the first years about the special grade curses you were expecting to see in the war.

Mai looked particularly shaken upon hearing about the death of Sora. She was always the cool and calm one amongst the first years, besides Mechamaru that is. So this was very new.

“Of course, come into my room.”

You served her tea and cakes, before kneeling down on your floor cushion.

Mai threw her arms around you. Your eyes widened as her arms tightened around your shoulder. You cautiously put your arms around her.

“I know how it feels….. To lose an older sister.”

You flinched, “Is yours-”

“She’s alive.” There was a different pain in her eyes. And that was then you realized that she must have been left behind.

“Grief is the loss of a person. Someone could be going through a divorce or a break-up and experience grief. You could lose an important person, while they’re still alive and it’s still considered grief.” Mai said.

You wanted to cry, but your eyes ran dry. All you’ve been doing is crying yourself to sleep night after night lately. Your soul was still longing for Sora when she couldn't be reached anymore.

Noritoshi was different. He made it clear that he’s still running after you, never stopping to call out your name even if you ignore him in the hallways. But you were not willing to touch on his matter as of now.

Mai told you all about Maki and her life in the Zenin clan. How she was left behind and forced to be a Jujutsu sorcerer. Everyone has their issues deep inside, but you’re all still pushing and coping as you fight curses.

You buried your hair into Mai’s chest. “I’m sorry you experienced that Mai. You’re such a brave woman for doing this everyday even though you’re afraid of curses.”

“You get used to it.” She sniffed.

You sat there for a while, just hugging her.

“Wanna watch sappy romcoms with me?” You peeked up at her from her arms. “Of course.” You both smiled at each other.

Author’s notes: Tsuchimikado translates to “Emperor of the Earth”, while Tsuchigumo translates to “Earth Spider”. Thus, with how Tsuchi (meaning earth), both names share common Kanji. They are a strong clan that can heal and guard living beings and plants. And Tsuchigumo are expected to be easily defeated by them, being an earth creature. But, as Hiroki said, it was a very bad omen when Sora was killed by one.

Blood Bound: Table of Contents

#angst #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jjk fanfiction #jjk imagines #jjk x you #jjk x reader #blood bound #blackened bond #bonus extra

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svnflowervol666 · 4 years

Note

harry doing baby bubs hair in the bathroom while she’s facetiming mitch 🥺

Word Count: 2.4k

Author’s Note: This made my heart melt. It’s in a puddle on the floor right now. That’s all.

“Baby, ye’ gotta sit still,” Harry huffed as he resituated his daughter on the bathroom counter for probably the fifth time that morning.

She was normally a patient and well-behaved child despite her ripe age of three, but today she was really showing her age.

“Want mummy do it!” she whined, smacking her pudgy toes against the inside of the sink.

“I know ye’ want mummy t’ do it. I want mummy to do it too, but she had t’ go t’ work early. ‘S just me and you today.”

Harry reached for the spray bottle filled with water with his right hand while keeping a firm grasp on his daughter’s unruly head of curly hair with his left, determined to tame the frizzy strands that seemed to have run wild while she slept the night before. A ponytail shouldn’t be this fucking hard. Should it?

He spritzed the bottle a few inches away from her head, trying to smooth down the baby hairs that littered her hair line. And he almost had it. That was, until his daughter tucked her head downward in agitation and caused Harry to lose his grip and the poofy tufts of chocolate brown hair to fall once more around her forehead and ears.

A exaggerated (but not really, it was well-deserved) groan erupted from Harry’s chest, and a feeling of defeat washed over him. He rubbed his tired eyes with the knuckles on his fingers. It wasn’t a big deal and he knew that, but the fact that he couldn’t do his daughter’s hair was making him feel like a failure of a father.

“What’s it gonna take for ye’ to stop squirmin’, huh? Will ye’ just be good so daddy can do your hair and we can get ya t’ nana’s?”

She was getting restless now, the hard stone making her tiny bum ache and her attention span dwindle down to the point of non-existance.

“Daddy, I want dowwwwwn,” she fussed as she balled her hands into fists and hit them on her knees in protest.

“I’ve got t’ fix your hair, lovie. Can’t have it hangin’ in your eyes. Just be still for a few seconds. Ye’ know what? Here. Play with this.”

Harry fished his cell phone out of his back pocket and placed the sleek device in his child’s lap. He was normally against letting her mess with his phone in fear that she’d accidentally delete an important file or call one of the dozens of influential figures he had saved in his contacts, but at this point he’d do just about anything to make her stop moving so that he could put her damn hair up.

Her eyes seemed to light up when she realized what she now held in her possession, fingers moving quickly to unlock the screen and cause whatever damage her heart desired. It didn’t take her long to realize that unlike her mother’s, Harry’s phone was locked with a passcode and she was unable to get into it.

“Fix it, daddy!” she exclaimed, raising the phone over her shoulder while Harry had finally managed to regather her hair into a somewhat presentable bundle.

He cursed under his breath and let her curly mane go once more, then took the phone back from his daughter. It was unlocked and back in her arms in a few seconds flat, to which Harry’s millionth attempt at corraling the curls he undoubtedly passed down to her began.

In an instant, she’d forgotten all about how antsy she was, now busying herself by opening random apps that caught her eye and pressing random keys that meant absolutely nothing to her because she was a three year old that couldn’t read, but it didn’t deter her from thinking she was a proper adult doing adult things on her very own cell phone.

Harry let out a sigh of relief when she seemed completely content, reaching once more for the spray bottle to rewet the comb he had been using to smooth over his daughter’s scalp. She put up no fight when he pulled her hair taut against her head, almost as if she had forgotten he was even there as her pudgy fingers tapped away on the glass screen.

The silver lining was now in reach, the finish line only a handful of long strides away. He was satisfied with his work. Sure, there were a few lumps and bumps, but nothing his wife or mother would fuss over, so he raised his arm up to his mouth to pull the neon pink hair band from his wrist with his teeth. As fate would have it, just as he began securing her ponytail with the hair tie, the flimsy elastic snapped and shot to the floor, leaving the toddler’s hair in a bird’s nest on top of her head and Harry’s patience at it’s end.

“You’ve got t’ be bloody kiddin’ me,” Harry groaned, having to turn his body away from his daughter as if the fuse attached to his last nerve was going to implode at any second.

He was now certain that whatever higher power in the sky was planning his demise on this bright and sunny Tuesday morning.

With the last bit of his dignity, he knelt down to open the cabinets and rummage through the bin with all of his daughter’s clips and bows until he found another hair tie that would match the outfit he’d picked out for her to wear. He kept a firm hand on her back as he jumbled around the contents of the container, just in case she lost her balance and fell backwards off of the counter (she didn’t really need the extra reinforcement, but he’d not quite been able to shake the over-protective dad persona that he’d adopted whenever she was much smaller and prone to flinging herself backward without warning). There was no additional pink hair tie in sight, so he was forced to go with a bright green one that didn’t compliment what she was wearing in the slightest, but it was just nana’s house, so who gives a shit, he thought to himself.

As he was regaining his stance from where he was balanced on his haunches, he heard a deep voice that wasn’t his daughter’s echo off the walls of the master bathroom.

“Hey, man! What’s goin’ o-,” the voice, which Harry now recognized as his best friend’s came to an abrupt hault when the camera focused and the man was able to see who was actually facetiming him at seven o’clock in the morning.

“Oh. You’re not Harry,” he toyed, trying to amuse the tiny girl he’d known and loved since the minute she was born.

“Mitchy!” Harry’s daughter yelled directly into the speaker of the phone, causing Mitch to hold his own phone several inches away from where he had it resting on the arm of his sofa.

“Hello, princess. Where’s your dad?”

“Right here,” Harry interjected with a grunt as he willed the pain in his knees (and back) away.

“Sorry, she’s messin’ with m’ phone. Must’ve called you on accident.”

“No worries. ‘S a lovely surprise. What’re you two doin’? You on baby duty this mornin’?”

Mitch could see Harry messing with the toddler’s hair, a purple comb balanced in between his teeth and locks of wavy, brown hair slipping in and out of the frame as he gathered it on top of her head.

“Yep,” Harry spoke through the comb, “And it’s not goin’ s’ great.”

“Judgin’ by the look on your face, I’d say so.”

“Haha. Very funny.”

“Mitchy!” Harry’s daughter called for him again as if to refocus the attention of this conversation back on herself.

“Yessss?”

“I see kitty?” her voice raising an octave as she asked to see the kitten he’d adopted a few months ago that she adored oh so much.

“Kitty’s sleepin’ with Sarah right now, bug. Can’t wake them or they’ll both be grumpy for the rest of the day. Why don’t you come over and visit and you can see all of us? We miss you,” Mitch pouted dramatically at the camera, making the small girl giggle in a way that made him smile right back at her.

He’d always been rather reserved, but had quite the soft spot for his close friend’s bub and couldn’t help but show her all of the affection that he could.

“Daddy, I go to Sarah’s house?” she jerked her head back to look at her father, whose life flashed before his eyes when the sudden movement almost caused his to drop her hair again.

Harry quickly turned her jaw back towards the mirror with his thumb to keep another disaster from occurring.

“Maybe later, petal. You’re going to nana’s today. Daddy and Mitch have to go t’ work.”

“You play songs?”

“Yeah. Gonna play some songs,” he laughed at his daughter’s earnest attempt at understanding what he did for a living.

“Are you bein’ good for ye’ dad?” Mitch asked, seeing Harry’s struggle and doing what he could to distract her while Harry smoothed the final lumps over her delicate head with the fine-toothed comb.

“Yeah, I bein’ good,” she gloated, flashing her tiny baby teeth.

“If that’s what ye’ want to call it,” Harry mumbled under his breath.

He wasn’t quiet enough for Mitch to not hear his snide comment, to which he let out a chuckle towards Harry.

“I take it you’ve got a bit of a fibber on your hands?” Mitch directed at Harry.

“No kiddin’,” Harry huffed, face concentrated on one stubborn tendril of hair that wouldn’t lay flat no matter how many times he brushed over it, “’Ve been trying to put her hair in a bloody ponytail for twenty minutes. I swear I’ve never seen a three year old with this much hair before in m’ life. Don’t know how her mum does this every mornin’.”

“’M afraid that hair’s all you, lover boy. Those curls are unmistakeable.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“Is your dad good at fixin’ your hair?” Mitch asked the toddler, knowing good and well he was giving leeway for Harry to be teased mercilessly by his ruthless toddler.

“No, I like mummy do my hair more. Daddy pulls it too much.”

“Listen here, you little monster. If ye’ would have sat still for two seconds, this would have been done ages ago and we could’ve been halfway t’ nana’s by now,” Harry stated very matter-of-factly.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Mitch intervened, “Take it easy, mate. She’s three. It can’t be that bad.”

“I would absolutely love to see you babysit her for twenty-four hours. You’d be choking on your words.”

“I’d love that, actually,” Mitch snided, “What d’ya say, princess? Sleepover at uncle Mitch’s house with Sarah and the kitty?”

The three year old cheered excitedly, her chubby cheeks widening on the sides of her face at the thought of spending time with her favorite people in the world (aside from her mum and dad, of course).

“No, no, no!” Harry yelled frantically, “Hold still. ‘M almost done.”

He quickly looped the brightly-colored elastic around her bunch of hair that he held tightly in his hand as if an imaginary stopwatch was about to go off and signal that he was out of time and he’d lose control of her curls once more, for which he’d certainly burst into tears.

“Aha!” he held his hands above his head in victory when he was satisfied with the number of times he’d wrapped the hair tie around her hair.

“Finally.”

Harry was breathing heavily as if he had just run a marathon, making Mitch cheer him on sarcastically.

“Super dad does it again.”

“You’re not funny, Mitch.”

“‘M very funny, actually. Isn’t that right, bubs?”

“Uh-huh!” Harry’s daughter agreed, earning an eye roll from her father.

“Alright, we’re very late. Need t’ get goin’ before Jeff yells at daddy n’ I’m not sure I can handle much more today.”

Harry scooped up the pint-sized child from the sink by the belly and helped her stand, her hands still clasped around the phone surrounded in a baby pink case.

“See ye’ in a bit yeah?” Harry asked Mitch as he straightened his daughter’s shirt that had crinkled at the hem from sitting on the counter for so long.

“Yeah. Reckon it’s probably time to go wake Sarah. You be good for your dad and nana today. Alright, stinker butt?”

“I not stinky!” the girl cried, almost offended.

“You’re right. ‘M sorry. Your dad’s the stinky one.”

“Goodbyeeeeeeee, Mitch,” Harry sang monotonously into the speaker.

“Bye, Mitchy!” his daughter called after him.

“Bye, sweetheart. See ye’ at the sleepover.”

She began rattling off another excited spout of words, but was cut off as Harry reached down and pressed the red button on the screen, ending the call. He took the phone from her hands and slid it back into his pocket. His daughter was too busy buzzing from the high of being invited over to Mitch’s house to play with his kitten to throw a fit over being deprived of it, to which Harry was thankful.

“Did ye’ put your bunny in your backpack?”

She nodded her head, yes.

“And your blanket?”

She paused, lips pursing as she tried to recall whether or not she stuffed the worn, yet still comforting wad of fabric that she’s had since she was born into her bag.

“Better go check then,” Harry added, watching her as she booked it down the hall towards her room as if she was in a race against herself to make it there.

“Got it!” her tiny voice came trailing back into Harry’s bedroom, the corners of the blanket sticking out from the giant backpack that was nearly the size of her body strapped to her back.

The sight of her wobbling back into his line of sight with the oversized bag made him want to cry. She was still so tiny, but where had his sweet baby gone?

“Good gir-” he began to praise her before he realized what he was currently looking at.

In the midst of her running, she must have exerted herself a bit too harshly, for her curls that were styled perfectly just minutes ago were floofed around her head in a (not-so angelic) halo and the hair tie had slipped down dangerously low, mere inches from falling completely out.

Her inherited curls were one of the cutest things about her and anyone with even the worst vision would agree. But, god. At what cost?

“-YOUR HAIR!”

#harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #dad!harry #dad!harry x reader #asks

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meaningofmischief · 3 years

Text

Evil, Lying Scourge

Set immediately after the battle in the Timekeepers’ chamber. Loki and Renslayer go toe-to-toe as Loki creates the ultimately confronting conditions to force the truth of Sylvie’s Nexus Event from Renslayer.

The truth is devastating - can Loki and Sylvie survive it?

Loki and Sylvie were traumatized - that was near the only way to put it.

Hours ago they had resigned themselves to die together on an exploding moon.

They had been forcibly yanked into the clutches of the TVA at the last possible minute, restrained, separated, each subject to individual psychological tortures as all their remaining tatters of stability and freedom and friendship were ripped away from them one by one. Both prepared to meet their ends together again, and now even their impossible escape was ice cold comfort as they both examined in horror the head of the mindless android they had taken to be one of the three all-powerful Timekeepers.

Not to mention the barely suppressed passion each felt for the other that roiled away like a wildfire between them - burning both the longer it went unacknowledged.

‘Then who,’ Loki’s voice broke for stress, ‘created the TVA?’. Sylvie felt choked by a sudden rage. Hurling the head of the android viciously across the floor of the chamber, she spat: ‘I thought this was it.’ They both had, of course.

A low moan startled them and they whipped around, mirrors of defense for the next attack, but the despised Ravonna Renslayer still lay passed out cold from the hefty blow Sylvie had dealt her not a minute before.

B-15, the undisputed saviour of the pair of them, had finally regained consciousness after the massive strike to the head she had received at the hands of one of the Timekeepers’ specialist defense team. They had not treated her mercifully while she was down either, delivering unnecessarily cruel, wounding kicks to the woman they saw as the traitor in their midst.

Sylvie reacted as if by instinct and rushed straight to B-15’s side, running practiced hands down the Hunter’s limbs to assess for fractures or broken bones. Loki could only marvel - for all her uncompromising toughness, Sylvie’s unconscious impulse was to compassion, a quality that he found at times miserably difficult to access, which frustrated him to no end, especially when he considered how yet more painful Sylvie’s past had been to his own.

‘Nothing broken.’ Sylvie’s soft reassurance to B-15 snapped Loki out of his reverie. ‘But those arseholes didn’t go easy on you by any means. Do you think you can walk?’ There was a flash of fire in the resilient Hunter’s eyes and she opened her mouth to deliver a stinging retort before Sylvie broke out into a warm smile and there was a brief moment of kinship between these two fearsome warriors.

‘Still,’ continued Sylvie bluntly, ‘I’m not having you risk your life to save us only to pass out in one of these obscure corridors where no-one’ll find you for the next week. I’m gonna see you to the infirmary and you can’t stop me.’ She was busy helping B-15 struggle painfully to her feet when Loki murmured, gravelly, ‘Sylvie. Is that wise?’

Sylvie glowered. Whatever difficult feelings she had for this man, he was not about to tell her what to do. Luckily B-15 interceded, voice tight with pain, but determined nonetheless: ‘I know how we can do this. Variant -’, she checked herself, ‘L-Loki. Take out Ravonna’s Tempad from her jacket.’

Loki’s skin crawled but he nevertheless did as she commanded, crouching down to where Ravonna still lay knocked out, reaching inside her jacket to retrieve the rectangular Tempad, surprisingly heavy in his palm. He handed it uncertainly to B-15 who snapped it open and began pressing buttons with a confident ease that seemed to indicate she knew exactly what she was doing. ‘There,’ she said smugly after 30 seconds or so, ‘the warrant for my capture has been deleted. And don’t worry,’ her gaze flitted over to Loki and in that brief glance Loki knew that B-15 had perceptively ascertained the depth of his attachment to Sylvie, ‘nothing is going to happen to that Variant on my watch. The store cupboard for this unit is right next to the infirmary, so we’ll get her a uniform to act as a disguise on the way back.’ B-15’s eyes narrowed, and Loki knew she was fighting hard what must be a tremendous amount of pain. She handed the Tempad back to Loki and he felt incredibly humbled by the action. Sylvie helped her very gently to the elevator door. ‘Promise me,’ B-15 whispered through gritted teeth as she turned to face Loki one last time, ‘that you’ll bring this place to the ground.’ Loki nodded once, slow and solemn - forcing himself to believe that such a thing was possible when so much lay still unknown. He and Sylvie locked gazes, and Loki longed to cross to the elevator doors in a handful of strides, hold her so close to him, take her face in his hands… Stop. He forced himself to focus right now, for all of their sakes. He only held her gaze as the elevator doors closed, and then they were gone.

Loki exhaled, and it came out mostly as a sob. He closed his eyes to withhold the tears which he felt welling in their sea-green depths. He had held himself together all this while for Sylvie, but now, standing alone in the cold, misty chamber - he felt assaulted by uncertainty and fear. And sorrow. He so wished for Mobius, for his friend, who was always so grounded and strong - a master of strategy. Loki’s gift for style and verbal artistry were rendered useless in a situation such as this and he felt utterly incompetent and broken.

‘You can be whatever - whoever - you wanna be. Even someone good. I mean just in case anyone ever told you different.’

Loki’s eyes snapped open, shining with salt water and yet never so determined as now.

No.

He had the ability to stand up and make his own choices, and that started now. Not his first act of defiance against whatever cruel authority had created this suffocating institution of control, and certainly not his last.

He knew what he needed to do, and he needed to do it for Sylvie - while he had this rapidly diminishing window and before they set about trying to achieve the impossible in burning this place to the ground.

And before he told her that he loved her.

Loki stooped and grimly retrieved his Time Collar where it lay on the floor after B-15 had freed him of it. He was going to need it, unfortunately. He opened the Tempad and after a short while as he got to grips with its functions, a Time Door with a subtle magenta sheen opened up next to him.

Panicked breathing behind him.

Good, she was awake.

Loki wasted no time, seizing Renslayer none too gently by the lapel of her jacket. She foggily tried to resist him, but before her blurry vision had even cleared, she felt the Time Collar wrap constrictingly around her neck, felt Loki haul her to her feet and unceremoniously push her through the Time Door ahead of him.

The Asgardian bedchamber was light and airy and warm - a stark contrast to the cool, damp darkness of the place they had emerged from. Loki looked around briefly, instantly wistful, recognising the arch of the ceiling, the pristine white marble floor, even smelling the heady summer scents of his old home. It made his heart ache even more - if that was possible at this stage. He was quickly distracted, however, by Ravonna’s wild sprint away from his side. She had regained her full mental capacity now, but was seized by terror at the situation - at the mercy of the Variant and whatever tortures he could concuct for her.

Loki fiercely loathed to play the jailor - even to someone as worthy of harsh treatment as Renslayer - but he needed her attention. He turned the dial of the Time Twister and in an instant Renslayer was back at his side. Though the logical part of Ravonna’s brain knew it was fruitless, she tried to break away from him several more times, just as Loki had tried upon his capture. Eventually Loki seized her by the arm and made her turn to look at the scene before them.

Throughout the chaos the little girl seated on the floor had payed them no heed. Not that she could. This was what the TVA quaintly referred to as an ‘Observant Loop Cell’ - of course obnoxiously abbreviated to OLC. An OLC was designed not to punish prisoners into submission but rather to force them to reflect on situations they had experienced - made to watch those situations over and over and unable to help, hinder or manipulate any of the figures within it.

Loki himself had had no idea what to expect when he had found Variant L1129’s file on Renslayer’s Tempad, and created an OLC of the Variant’s apprehension. He had briefly had a vision of the young, out-of-control Goddess of Mischief, terrorizing Asgard - effecting pain and suffering, destruction and death so devastating that there was no choice but to send up a smoke flare, a Nexus Event. It did not fit in the slightest with what he perceived of Sylvie’s true character, but he could think of no other reasonable explanation. He did certainly not expect this angelic child, playing as any child would, with her toys. Loki felt a pang of unhappiness as he remembered his own childhood days, he never could play nicely. It was all borne of resentment and jealousy: Father would always ensure Thor had the most luxurious selection of toys, and he was anyway keen that both of his sons stopped messing around with playthings as early as possible and go out for battle training with the young sons of Asgardian nobility instead. Where Thor thrived in the competitive, loud environment of the training ground, Loki shrank into himself. Self-conscious, anxious, lacking the warrior’s bulk that all the other boys seemed to possess, the young prince found himself more often than not in a corner with a few books and some of the toys his father scorned - to make up his own stories in his own time. The other boys mocked him endlessly, tore pages out of the books, stole the miniature figurines of Valkyrie and other great warriors. Loki had eventually learned to be as harsh and cruel as they - only his power to hurt came from his intelligence rather than brawn.

This little girl was anything but harsh and cruel, hurt and isolated. Yes, she was alone, but she seemed to relish that independence - making her own stories up in her own time. ‘Dragon swoops towards the palace, but Valkyrie flies over, defeats the dragon and saves Asgard!’ she crowed, face alit at the conclusion of what had evidently been an epic story. Loki couldn’t suppress a small smile, though he knew that any moment there must be some great catastrophe which would set off the Nexus Event. Ravonna seemed to have frozen at his side - both were caught up in their individual perception of the events unfolding before their eyes.

When the golden Time Door opened mere seconds later, Loki gasped in disbelief, gaze flitting around the room and then back to Sylvie as he tried to ascertain what could have caused the Nexus and finding no evidence at all. Ravonna stiffened next to him as they both saw none other than Ravonna Renslayer - or more precisely Hunter A-20 - in clear command of the two Minutemen flanking her, hold out her Tempad before her and certify in a cold, triumphant voice: ‘There’s our variant.’ Sylvie’s eyes were huge and frightened as Renslayer continued without pause: ‘On the authority of the Timekeepers, I hereby arrest you for crimes against the sacred timeline’, as though she were addressing some notorious criminal and not a terrified little girl.

‘Where’s the Nexus?!’ Loki thought, increasingly desperate and distressed as the OLC Renslayer seized Sylvie by her skinny arm and wrenched her towards the Time Door. It all happened very quickly then. The Minutemen set their Reset Charge which immediately began its task of disintegrating Sylvie’s possessions - anything and everything that indicated that she had ever been in this room. Sylvie screamed, high-pitched, shaking in Renslayer’s grasp: ‘Wait!!!’. Loki resisted the urge to run to her aid, knowing it would be completely useless. Then Sylvie and Renslayer gone, followed by the Minutemen, the Time Door snapped shut and Loki and his Renslayer stood facing one another in a deafening silence in the handful of seconds of respite prisoners would receive before the loop started again.

Tears were clouding Loki’s vision, but he blinked them away angrily. ‘Why?’ was the only thing he said - in a voice several octaves below his usual speaking voice. Renslayer shook her head and pressed her lips together, though her chest heaved at the fraught situation. Loki growled softly and resisted the urge to hurt her - to make her talk.

No.

That was what he would have done in the past, he would not descend to such base measures now.

He didn’t need to, the loop was already starting again. Loki felt as though his heart would fairly break in two as he watched the young Sylvie skip into her bedroom, arms full of her toys, setting them out, beginning to play. ‘You’re going,’ he spat at Renslayer ‘to stand here with me and watch this as many times as it takes for you to tell me what the Nexus event was that made you rip an innocent young girl’s life away from her and force her on the run for her entire life. I don’t care how long it takes. You’re going to tell me.’

In reality that wasn’t exactly true - Sylvie and B-15 had almost certainly reached the infirmary by now and if Sylvie made it back to the Timekeepers’ chamber to find it empty, to think that she had been abandoned by her one companion (and perhaps more than that) in the universe… It nearly had Loki sending them both back to the TVA instantly. But Renslayer was breaking already, he could see it, as he forced her to watch the abject cruelty, cruelty at her hands, again and again. By the third viewing, Renslayer’s eyes brimmed with tears and Loki would gladly have wept openly. By the fifth, she started to hyperventilate, made to move away. Loki turned the Time Twister’s dial and she was jarred back into place. On the sixth viewing, just as the OLC Renslayer was about to seize Sylvie, she abruptly screamed: ‘Enough! I’ll tell you! I’ll tell you.’

Both breathed out in relief, when Loki pressed the button on the Tempad that cut the loop and everyone in the scene disintegrated immediately. He turned to face her and forced out between his teeth: ‘Do not try to lie to the God of Mischief. You have no idea how acutely I am attuned to falsehoods. You will tell me in every horrifying detail about this Nexus Event, or I will leave you in this Time Cell and bury this Tempad in the deepest crevice of the TVA where no one will ever, ever find it. Now TELL ME.’

Renslayer took a deep breath to steady herself, closed her eyes and spoke with a surprisingly steady voice: ‘The Variant was deviating from her role on the Sacred Timeline.’ Loki snarled: ‘Obviously! What was the deviation?’. Renslayer opened her eyes and locked her chocolate brown eyes with his green ones. ‘A Loki,’ she said, slowly, as though choosing her words carefully, ‘does not get to travel the kind of path that that Variant was on.’ Loki rushed to intercede, but Renslayer narrowed her eyes, warning him not to interrupt her.

‘It was a mistake that she ever got as far as she did. Our technology advances every day - it’s now so accurate that we can nip burgeoning Nexus events like this one in the bud.’ Loki was amazed that she could speak in such clinical terms about the organisation that had only very recently been revealed to have three mindless robots as its figureheads. But Renslayer’s voice ran with conviction which only strengthened as she continued: ‘Lokis are so very tricky. It’s an incredible rarity that any being is allowed so much leeway as they have been, and we have all had to suffer the consequences of that. You see, due to your natures as shapeshifters, this Variant being born the Goddess rather than the God of Mischief was no cause for a Nexus flare. But of course in the archaic society that you are raised in, the ridiculous difference in gender is of massive significance. Recall that only male heirs are permitted to succeed the throne of Asgard. In your case, informing you of your adoption would have caused colossal problems for King Odin - that would have had ramifications across Asgard, not to mention potential rebellion from you yourself. Odin was under no illusions of how much more intelligent you were than his legitimate son, and how that would have fused with the arrogance of princehood to create the ultimate cuckoo within the sparrow’s nest - an utterly unacceptable scenario. Far better to keep that knowledge from you, even if it did mean that you grew up confused and resentful - emotions Odin could easily ignore. Far better to have you treated as the bastard son, who he would insidiously try to manipulate to his own ideals, who might possibly one, highly unlikely day, be fit for the throne should Thor be killed in battle before his heir was old enough to succeed the throne.’

‘Of course, for a girl, Odin had no such concerns. He took the child from Jotunheim out of some scrap of pity, and because she could prove useful in negotiating with the Jotuns at a later date. A princess had no chance of succeeding the throne, not to mention an illegitimate one, who would likely be married off to some lowborn noble as soon as she had come of age. So Odin told the Variant of her adoption. And somehow, ludicrously, that knowledge failed to break the Variant, it only made her stronger. She took pride in her differences from her family and the rest of Asgard, her inclination to independence rather than company, her delight of mischief. Where she should have been enraged, embittered and vengeful, she was courageous, compassionate and creative.’

‘Excuse me,’ Loki hissed, interrupting Renslayer’s monologue, ‘where she SHOULD have been?’. Despite the fact that she had found herself at his mercy, Renslayer sneered at him. ‘Of course-’ she continued, seeming to try to gain the upper hand over him with the knowledge she was revealing, ‘a Loki is an evil, lying scourge, like you. Where would be the heroes of the Timeline without the villains? That Variant had a role to play, same as you, same as all of us, and she went off the path. Whoever heard of a heroic Goddess of Mischief?’. Ravonna’s voice cracked slightly on the last sentence as she bore witness to Loki’s murderous expression. ‘So what you’re saying,’ he replied with devastating calm ‘is that Sylvie lost her home, her family, her life, because she would one day grow up to be kind and just, to be her own person? Oh, no one is truly good or truly bad, but the TVA decrees that not to be so.’ His voice grew more intense and Renslayer shrank before him. ‘Because whatever devil puppetmaster is controlling the TVA, they like to have their play made interesting - with villains to cause destruction and heroes to save the day?’. Renslayer was at a loss for words, but Loki had heard enough. He pressed a button on the Time Twister he held and Ravonna sank ungraciously to the floor, unconscious once more. One of the functions the delightful Twister could enact was to reverse the prisoner’s physiological state - mainly meant for various exotic creatures the TVA brought in, that could effect all sorts of trouble as a result of their innate biology, but in this case merely necessary to give Loki a moment to take in what he had just experienced. He couldn’t quite do it.

Only concern for Sylvie forced Loki to action, and he opened up the door back to the Timekeepers’ chamber using the Tempad, dragging the unconscious Ravonna back through with him. Despite what he had said, he would never consign anyone to spend their life trapped in one of the hideous Time Cells. He removed her Time Collar too, and flung it to a far corner of the chamber, repulsed that it had had to come to him using one of the TVA’s disgusting methods of control to get the information he needed.

His thoughts left Renslayer entirely behind as the elevator doors opened and Sylvie emerged not a moment too soon, yanking off the breastplate and trousers of the TVA Minutemen she had worn as a disguise over her usual black top and trousers. Now that Sylvie’s purpose had been achieved, she too seemed utterly spent as she staggered over to where Loki stood staring at her. Both failed to speak for several moments and then Loki rasped, with a voice that sounded unused for days, ‘Sylvie. Sylvie, I need to tell you something.’

Sylvie’s deep blue eyes widened, her heart began to pound like a wild drum in her chest. ‘What?’ she could only say as Loki struggled to find the words for what he had just learned.

When it was over, they both started to cry.

Loki and Sylvie had never been ones for excessive, histrionic displays of emotion. They had had to armour themselves in toughness and charm and mischief and wit all their lives despite the turbulence that roared inside of them.

And now here the both of them stood, silent but for the ragged intake of breath as they struggled to bring themselves under some semblance of control.

Eventually they stopped. Each observed the other’s tear-streaked face.

‘Sylvie...’ Loki said again. The word seemed to ground him and her at the same time.

‘Not another pep talk please.’ Sylvie uttered with a weak attempt at humour, that fell flat instantly with the sheer desperation in her tone.

‘No. I have to tell you something else.’

Sylvie wasn’t sure that she could handle anything else.

Loki stepped closer to her, and avoided her gaze, his breathing picking up again.

Sylvie felt herself instinctively mirroring him, and forced herself to focus.

Loki looked her in the eyes.

‘We will figure this out.’

It really was too much.

‘How do you know that?’ How was there any certainty about anything anymore?

‘Because, uh -’ Loki’s near-gasping for air cut him off and he twisted his sweaty hands together.

‘Well, back on Lamentis…’ It was all too impossible to explain. Loki gestured helplessly, trying to find the beginnings of some clever story that had never failed to come to him with infinite ease before and now completely failed him.

He gave up. His arms dropped to his sides.

‘This is new for me. Um -’ Loki’s heart raced in his chest and the sound seemed amplified, obliterating his thoughts. They were a tangle of grief and passion and...and love - a tangle that was impossible to reconcile.

Loki turned his hands towards his heart, as though it could speak for him.

‘What?’ Sylvie breathed, hardly daring to speak, her own heart pulsing just as intensely.

They would figure this out. They would. Some very deep and very soulful part in both of them, inextricably linking one to the other, knew it. Loki clasped her upper arms, barely believing himself.

I love you Sylvie. Sylvie I love you. Sylvie I will always love you - you beautiful spirit of mischief. Sylvie, we are free and we will figure this out. I love you Sylvie, I love you.

‘If it were now to die, ‘twere now to be most happy.’ thought Loki, even as he felt the icy touch of Ravonna Renslayer’s weapon seize his heart and rip its chill through his body, as Sylvie watched him disintegrate right before her eyes which never left his - as he was transported to some realm of chaos where the God of Mischief would navigate the labyrinth back to his Goddess so that he could speak those words unsung softly in her ear before bending down to her lips and watching the TVA burn.

- Inspired by a fantastic suggestion from asgardian1112! More suggestions for future stories gladly welcome!

#loki #lokiseries #sylki #sylvie x loki #sylvie laufeydottir

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eldritchcryptids · 3 years

Text

Oh no

Daisy is laying across her bed on her stomach, head in her hands as she watches as her blonde friend digs through her knapsack, “So what was this extremely important thing you wanted to tell me about?” Quinn seems to find what she was searching for and turns around to face Daisy, eyes shining excitedly as she holds up and waves around a basic, black USB flash drive. The brunette furrows her eyebrows, holding out her open hand. Quinn places the flash drive into her hand before taking a seat at the nearby desk’s swivel chair.

Daisy examines the USB, turning it over in her hands. It was unremarkable, just a regular, simple black flash drive, “...I don’t get it? What’s so important about this, what’s on it?” Daisy tosses the USB over to Quinn who quickly catches it. Quinn shoots her friend a glare.

“Don’t throw it around! It’s not my USB and if it somehow breaks, Nathan’s gonna have my head on a platter,” She states, “The contents of this little flash drive is very important to him.”

Daisy’s nose screws up at the mention of the boy, “Nathan from math class? He gave you a USB and you just...took it?”

“Yeah, well what’s the worst thing that can happen?”

“Oh? ‘What’s the worst thing that can happen?’ I don’t know! Maybe it has a virus on it? Maybe it has inappropriate stuff on it? Maybe the USB is coated in anthrax and we're all gonna die now-”

“Okay, slow down, I get it.” Quinn laughs and Daisy shrugs, muttering a quiet ‘you asked’ under her breath, “But, do you want to know what this is supposed to have on it?” Daisy nods her head. “Well, Nathan has had this obsession with a local...like...Urban legend creepypasta thing, for years…”

Daisy rolls her eyes, “Is it just an archive of creepypastas? Stuff like the “Jeff the killer” picture and story or something?”

Quinn shakes her head before leaning forward and closer to the bed, “Have you ever heard of something called…” lowering her voice to a whisper, “...Marble Hornets?” Daisy blinks at the mention of the name. Marble Hornets...Something about that sounds familiar, but she can’t quite place her finger as to why. Daisy slowly shakes her head, Quinn grins and leans back in the swivel chair.

“It was a YouTube channel from back in the early...2010s, I think? It’s said that everyone who was a part of it ended up dying and that whenever someone watches it they get cursed...or something like that, I wasn’t really paying attention when Nathan was talking about it..” Quinn holds up the USB and shakes it, “This is supposed to hold all the archived videos.”

“Well, if it’s a YouTube channel, why not just...Go watch it on YouTube?”

“Ah, well a few years after the last upload it got deleted-”

“But if everyone died, who deleted it..?” Daisy questions, confused.

“I dunno, I’m not an expert on this.”

Daisy sighs, pushing herself off of her stomach, “So you came over to have a sleepover because you want to watch all the videos on that USB? Because of this urban legend?”

Quinn nods quickly, “It’ll be fun! I’ve never seen any of the videos before, so it’ll be an interesting experience for us!”

“Fine. We can watch it, but if plugging in this USB bricks my computer then you’re buying me a new one.”

The two girls turn off the lights and get comfortable on Daisy’s bed, setting the laptop in between the two of them. The flash drive gets plugged in and Daisy pulls up the first video, named “Introduction.”

A black screen appears, with the words, “The following clips are raw footage excerpts from Alex Kralie. A college friend of mine.” written in white on top of it. Daisy doesn’t think anything of it.

Then Entry 1 starts, and that thing was in it.

Daisy jumps and nearly shoves the computer away at the sight of the faceless man. The sudden movement from her friend causes Quinn to jump too, the blonde quickly pauses the video once it automatically starts playing Entry 2, “Only 2 videos in and you’re already jumping?” Quinn jokes, giving her friend a nudge.

Daisy glances at Quinn before sighing, “Sorry, the...uh...head turning suddenly like that scared me a bit..” The blonde chuckled before patting her friend on the shoulder.

“If something like that is gonna spook you maybe we shouldn’t be watching this then.”

“No, no, it’s okay.”

They continued to watch the entries and it wasn’t okay.

Daisy knows the Alex who was being talked about in these videos. She’s met him only a few times, because Tim, Hoodie and Jay are all pretty apprehensive about being around him. Daisy was never told why that was, no matter how much she asked. But, she did still know him. Deep down, she was hoping that this was just some weird film project that Alex and Jay had worked on during their time as film students- but she knew that wasn’t true. There was no way they were going to get The Operator to participate in that.

Entry 7 soon came around and Quinn quickly paused the video as a familiar face appeared on the screen before them. “Is that Mr. Thomas?” She questions, whipping her head to the side to stare at her friend. It was a question that didn’t need an answer from Daisy, as they both knew what he looked like. Hell, he was just downstairs if they really needed proof that this was the same guy. “I thought you didn’t know about Marble Hornets?”

“I didn’t,” Daisy mutters with a shrug, “I was never told about this from my dads.”

Quinn stares at her for a bit longer before Daisy presses play. She wonders where the rumors of them being dead came from. Alex, Jay, Tim and Hoodie were all still very much alive, they had all obviously been through things, Daisy knew that much. The visible scars on Hoodie’s face that clearly weren’t on Brian’s face during Entry 7, the therapy appointments and medication Tim takes, the tiredness and pain that radiated from Jay and the regret and apologies Alex would spout during his rare appearances.

The two girls continue watching the videos, entry after entry after cryptid video and then it repeats. This went on for hours. Hours of watching Alex slowly lose his mind, hours of seeing the faceless man lurking in the background- watching as he always is, hours of watching Jay investigating.

Watching the entries was a lot to take in, but Daisy never stops the video. She could have just turned off the laptop, feign being afraid of what they were watching and then never talk about it again. But she couldn’t. She needed to know more, she had to.

When Entry 49 rolled around, Daisy tensed up. She now partly knew why her dads and Jay didn’t like being around Alex. He was a killer. As the entries continued on, more and more dread built up. Daisy watches as Hoodie seems to actively work against Jay and Tim - stalking Jay and causing Tim seizures by stealing his medication. Nearing the end of the videos, they watch Hoodie fall out from a window and be deemed as presumably dead, they watch Jay get shot in the side by Alex and then watch the final fight between Tim and Alex. Tim ultimately comes out on top- and Daisy gets her explanation on where all the scarring on Alex’s neck came from.

They finished the series completely around 1 am. Neither of them know what to say, so they remain speechless. The two girls stare at the screen, at the words “Everything is Fine” for what feels like half an hour before Quinn clears her throat.

“I, uh...I didn’t know any of that stuff happened…” She quietly says, “If I did I probably wouldn’t have made you watch it with me.”

The brunette girl shakes her head, drawing her knees up to her chest, “It’s alright.”

Silence falls over the two again.

After a while, the two agreed that it was likely time that they should go to bed. Quinn falls asleep first, which is usual. Daisy takes this time to sneak out of the bed, grabbing the USB flash drive from the nightstand and heading out of the room.

Neither Tim nor Hoodie fall asleep early, which means Daisy is in luck. She ventures downstairs and to the living room, where she can hear the TV playing. She steps into the room, seeing Tim and Hoodie sitting on the couch, watching some late night comedy show or something of the sort. Hoodie is the first to notice the girl’s presence, “Daisy, shouldn’t you be asl-”

Before he can finish his sentence, Daisy throws the USB at him, not saying a word as she turns and leaves back to her room. Hoodie frowns, picking up the black flash drive that landed in his lap. “What was that about?” Tim questions and Hoodie shrugs, grabbing Tim’s computer from off of the nightstand.

The hooded man plugs the USB in and freezes at the file that pops up onto the screen, “Tim...Uh, we have a problem.”

Tim blinks and peers over the other male’s shoulder to see what he was looking at.

Video files. Far too familiar videos and the folder being titled, “Marble Hornets.”

“Damnit.”

#writing #protector au #my ocs #oc:daisy #oc:quinn #marble hornets #mh #tim wright #hoodie

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tinyboxxtink · 3 years

Text

“Sharky” *Part 7*

I have a question y’all, do you think that I make my fics too short? I always tend to keep them at 10 chapters because I feel like my attention span goes, but I see other fics are sometimes substantially longer. I really have some good plot plans for this one, so we’ll see how long it goes.

Also OMG the gif works so well with the scene please send help.

Tag List

@wanniiieeee

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@word-scribbless

@dumauier

@gibbs274

@aprildecker-blog

@objection-argumentative

Chapter List Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 8

“Rafael...Rafael come on don’t make me run in these shoes,” You called after him, scampering in your stilettos. Rafael finally stopped and turned to face you.

“What, Y/N? What could you possibly say to me?” He said exasperatedly.

“Well this is familiar…” You half smiled. It was a call back to your first “date”.

“You really want to make jokes right now? He asked angrily.

“Sorry...I’m sorry,” You awkwardly looked at the ground. “For everything,”

“For everything,” He scoffed with a roll of his eyes.

“Yes! For everything,” You tried to step towards him, but he stepped back.

“For what, exactly? For stealing my stuff? For going through my apartment? For DRUGGING me?”

“I did NOT--”

“Oh don’t even. I had such weird dreams that I haven’t had except for when I was taking hydrocodone for a back surgery,” He crossed his arms.

“Oh come on it wasn’t even half a pill there’s no way you could have--”

“SEE, I knew it! What the fuck is WRONG with you?!” He stared at you with disbelief.

“I...I don’t know…” You bit your lip.

“Right,” He shook his head with a sarcastic smile and turned to walk away, but you grabbed his hand.

“But look I’m sorry, okay and, and I didn’t give these to Buchanan yet so I’m going to delete them, right now and--” You started to show him the CONFIDENTIAL photos you took last night, but for the first time you were looking at them properly.

“I thought you were deleting them,” He said almost on top of you when he realized what you had taken photos of.

“What is this?” You zoomed in on the files, your face growing pale. “Rafael, what is this?”

“Look we’re talking about what YOU did, Y/N--” He started to deflect but you weren’t hearing any more.

“My NAME is all over this, Rafael,” You could feel your panic attack coming back. The files were basically a full blown background check on you. Your family, your career, everything.

“It’s...not what you think,” Now it was his voice that went soft.

“It’s not what I--I can’t fucking believe this,” You laughed sarcastically, tears stinging your eyes. “You’re not upset I ‘played’ you, you’re upset you got outplayed!”

“What? What does that even mean?” He scoffed.

“YOU ASKED ME OUT,” You almost screamed. “You asked me out to get more dirt on me!”

“No, I didn’t I--” He tried to deny it.

“Bullshit! Then what the fuck is this?!” You shook the phone at him. “God I can’t believe I felt bad for-- GOD you’re such a--”

“Oh no no no, don’t even. I didn’t sleep with you and steal your property,” He acted like he was the victim once again.

“Yeah, because I didn’t give you the chance!” You were fuming.

“Look I didn’t even get that information, okay? Liv did. She did a whole background check on you when she thought I was interested in you...MONTHS ago. And I never even looked at it!” He tried explaining everything away. Nothing was ever his fault.

“But you kept it. Just in case,” You narrowed your eyes.

“Well obviously I’m glad I did,” He bit back.

“God...Olivia,” You scoffed. “You know she’s the only reason we’re in this,” You rolled your eyes at that stupid woman.

“Excuse me?”

“I wanted to go out with you for REAL, Rafael. Which clearly was never on your agenda,” You stomped your heel.

“Oh come on that’s--” He shook his head.

“Yeah, and then not only did you embarrass the fuck out of me, then your little bitch called Buchanan and TOLD ON US,” You spat. The whole thing was enough to set you on fire, if she hadn’t butt in at all you would be in Rafael’s arms right now and not having it out in the middle of the street.

“...She what?” His voice went soft again; he didn’t even correct you on calling her a bitch.

“Yeah, turns out she thought I was trying to “coerce” you to my side, or that’s what she told Buchanan,” You spat. “And THEN, and ONLY then, did Buchanan come to me and threaten my god damn JOB and CAREER unless I got those receipts!”

“He...he threatened you…?” Rafael’s head was spinning. Had you really cared about him this whole time?

“YES, and-- and you know what is the WORST part of all of this?” You shook your head and laughed bitterly.

“What--? He looked afraid of the answer.

“I KEPT THE RECEIPTS,” You yelled, feeling yourself about to breakdown.

“What do you mean, you kept the receipts?” He asked with concern.

“I took this last night,” You pulled the USB you swiped from your blazer pocket. “And--And after I sat there, I let you-- I--- and then you called me ‘mi amor’, and I--” Your mind was running a mile a minute, you couldn’t finish a thought.

“I did what?” He stared at you in shock.

“You don’t even remember that,” You scoffed angrily “Of course you don’t. You didn’t fucking mean it, I knew that,”

“I….I…” Rafael’s eyes went back and forth as his mind was racing, trying to figure out exactly what he had said out loud last night and what he had dreamed of.

“And I felt SO BAD, so bad, and I thought that I--that we---” You were still reeling, you couldn’t believe this was happening.

“Y/N…” Rafael’s face was apologetic now but you were done.

“I made copies of the receipts and I put them on this USB and I was going to give it back to you, and then you could just tell Buchanan that you had made copies and saved them beforehand, and I didn’t get my hands on it. Because I didn’t give it to him, Rafael. I saved it and I was going to save YOU,” You were full on having a breakdown, tears were falling down your face. Rafael’s face fell completely and he reached for you.

“Y/N I am so--”

“NO!!!!” You jerked away from him. “You played me! I can’t believe all the bullshit you gave me, all the guilt I felt, the feelings I thought--”

“I didn’t play you Y/N I swear to you, I asked you out because I--” He grabbed your hands this time. “I really did like you, I DO like you,”

“No, I’m not listening to any of your bullshit of what I ‘felt’ or some sappy bullshit, not for one more second,” You ripped away from him and started to storm off; But you were going to show him once and for all who was the heartless one.

“And you know what, counselor? Congratulations, you outplayed the best of the best. Well done. Here’s your prize,” You threw the USB at him and stormed off, leaving him speechless.

----

You stomped back inside and went straight to the family bathroom nearby, locking it behind you just before you broke down crying. Your phone began buzzing wildly, “RAFAEL” flashed on your screen. IGNORE.

It rang again, and again and again. You finally picked it up and screamed “LEAVE ME ALONE,” and hung up.

Why did you give him that USB? Now you were going to lose your job on top of everything else.

You finally composed yourself long enough to make it back to your desk, where Buchanan was waiting.

“Ah, Y/L/N, So I just got a very...interesting call from Barba,” He gave you a look.

“I’m sure you did,” you thought to yourself. “Oh?” You asked out loud.

“Yes it turns out, that he had those receipts on a backup USB he had at his office,” He said in an accusatory tone.

“Oh. That’s unfortunate,” You did your best to keep cool.

“It is, and also very peculiar. Seeing as he was so upset when he came over here, acting like he didn’t have a chance,” He kept his suspicious tone.

“He probably just forgot he had it at the office, you know on the account of being drugged last night and all,” You rolled your eyes.

“I’m sorry, what?” John’s eyes perked up.

“A quarter of a hydrocodone, he’s fine,” You waved it off. “Probably made him foggy though,”

“Uh huh...I’m sure,” He nodded. “And about those photos…”

“Oh, don’t count on it,” You shook your head as you handed him your phone.

“Oh, damn Y/L/N,” He chuckled. “Seems that ADA really took you for a ride, didn’t he? Maybe I overestimated you,” That hit so much harder right now, and he knew it.

“Just...I’m sorry, okay?” You looked at the floor in shame.

“Well, you did your best there, my little shark,” He nodded to the plushie as he walked away. You picked it up and tossed it into the trash as you did your best not to burst into tears again.

------

Meanwhile across town, Barba was storming into Olivia Benson’s office at the NYPD.

“What is your problem, Olivia?” He barked.

“Excuse me?” Olivia was floored that Rafael would yell at her like this.

“Liv look, I know that we’re best friends, and we’ve known each other a long time but--- I’m not yours,” He sighed.

“I’m sorry?” She acted oblivious.

“You know what I’m talking about,”

“I really don’t--”

“Y/N, Olivia,” Barba cut her off.

“What about her?”

“The background check? The little phone call to Buchanan?” He asked angrily.

“Wha-- how are you going to be mad at me for being right about her?” She scoffed.

“YOU WEREN’T RIGHT,” He yelled while throwing his hands up in the air.

“Were you or were you not just in here ranting about how she just slept with you to get that evidence?” Olivia crossed her arms.

“And she gave it back,” He held out the USB.

“...Why would she do that?” Olivia was still lost.

“Because she cares about me, Olivia! But because of you, I’m pretty sure I’ll never get her trust back,” He yelled in frustration.

“No, no that can’t be right. She must have an angle,” Olivia persisted.

“Why, because the only one allowed to care about me is you?” Rafael asked coldly.

“That is--” Olivia shook her head, not believing he had just gone there.

“Look, Liv I haven’t wanted to have this conversation because your friendship is so important to me,” He softened his voice. “But...that’s it. Our friendship,”

“Wow, Rafa. Wow I cannot believe you just come in here and start yelling at me, and start lecturing me on what our relationship is. Are you really that full of yourself?!” She was pissed now.

“Liv, we both know that’s why--”

“I was looking after you as a FRIEND, jackass,” She scoffed. “And anyway, why do you care so much all of a sudden? A week ago she was the devil to you! Now you’re in love with her?”

“I’m not---I don’t---” Rafael tried to find the words. “I could have, Liv. I really could have,”

“....I really am sorry, Rafael,” Olivia went and put her hand over his, and he let her. He looked up at her with soft eyes, finally letting a small smile form.

“I know you are,” He pulled her close and kissed her forehead.

Maybe it wasn’t meant to be, maybe he should just quit fighting it. Maybe he could be happy with Olivia, he was never going to get you back now anyway.

Was he?

------

*A Month Later*

You were working late again, it seemed like lately all you did was work. You practically slept in your office these days. A few of your co-workers passed by laughing and chatting.

“Hey, Y/L/N, what are you doing? It’s a holiday!”

“Halloween hardly qualifies as a holiday Spencer,” You rolled your eyes. “It’s just an excuse for kids to load up on candy and adults to load up on booze,”

“Exactly!” Kyra, the young intern, chimed in. Of course the guys were trying to get her to go ‘party’ with them.

“Aw come on, we’re gonna go crash the NYPD’s Halloween Bash,” Your third co-worker Greg added.

“.....Really?” You asked with a sly smile, the wheels in your head were turning.

“Oh yeah, their chief always gets the good booze,” Spencer laughed. “You’re gonna need a costume though,”

“Oh I’ve got just the costume…” You smirked while logged off your laptop and grabbed your briefcase,

You’d show the whole NYPD just who was the fairest of them all….

#rafael barba #rafael barba x you #rafael barba x reader #rafael barba imagine #law and order special victims unit #law and order svu #law and order svu fanfiction #sharky

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ace-in-a-shopping-cart · 3 years

Text

Detroit Evolution Character Studies.

If you haven’t seen the absolutely lovely Reed900 fan film Detroit Evolution by @/octopunkmedia, I highly recommend it. (This also contains spoilers for it so watch before reading this.) I’m not done with these character studies as I plan to do one more for both characters.

Essentially, these are scenes taken directly from the film where I wrote it out, action, words, and all, as well as tried to capture what I thought they would be feeling/thinking in those moments as a way of learning to write the character’s voices (or my version of them). Word Count: 2,345 TW: Cursing, blood/ injury/ death mention, brief mention of food.

Nines

Timestamp: 11:22

He carried the full coffee mug from the break room to Gavin’s desk, a spring in his steady step. Placing the mug down, he looked at Gavin, a challenge in his eyes.

Gavin looked up from his phone. “Thank god.”

Nines held back a sigh. “I hate you.”

“You love me.” Gavin sassed back.

Nines pushed at Gavin’s feet that were propped up on the desk. “Move your feet.” He listened to the small sound of surprise that came from the human and sat where the feet had been, waiting for Gavin to stop spinning. “Have you been reviewing the case?” He glanced at the inactive computer screen.

Gavin sat straighter in the chair and leaned forward. “You know me. When do I stop?” He pulled up the case file on his computer. “Our victim’s an AC900, right? That happens to be a model designed for athletics and endurance. So, her thirium pump is one of the most valuable out there.”

Nines tilted his head. “You think the killer could have black market motivations?”

“You can’t rule it out. Not with how advanced that part is. So, once I made that genius deduction, I went through a list of my contacts in the android parts market and they got back to me with some common drop sites for black market deals.”

Nines was wary of where this was going, his LED circling to yellow. “Contacts? There are black market dealers who collude with the DPD?”

Gavin sat back, posture relaxed. “They give me intel, I stay off their back.”

“That doesn’t seem legal.” it defied his sense of logic to work with criminals to catch other criminals, even if the method had some merit.

Gavin spun his chair to face him, voice becoming defensive. “Okay, Nines. Sometimes you gotta bend the rules if you want to catch a bigger fuckin’ fish, alright? I know it’s not your protocol or whatever but, that’s why you got me.” He took a sip of his coffee, looking pleased with himself.

Nines leaned on his hand. “How would I ever succeed without your obstinance and rule breaking?” Sarcasm was something he’d mastered soon after deviating and used often with Gavin.

Gavin set his mug down, crossing his hands over his lap. “Yeah, you got a real funny way of saying ‘experience and wisdom’.”

“Wisdom?” Nines almost scoffed. “Gavin, I have a database in my brain containing over two hundred thousand words in the English language and I believe you found the one that least applies to yourself.”

Gavin looked up at him. “Shuuuut the fuck up.” He reached forward to tap his keyboard, bringing their attention back to the case. “Look, if we can intercept some dealers and bring ‘em in, we’ll find out if our victim’s thirium pump has been making the rounds. That could lead us straight to the killer.” He looked at Nines for his opinion.

Nines hummed. “It’s a good start, but waiting for a dealer to cross our path could mean it could take weeks to find a lead.” His LED went to blue as he thought it over.

“Thought of that too, smartass. There are definitely some sites where black market activity is hot.” He pointed at the screen and Nines turned to look. “These apartments out in Ferndale and Slide Docks-” he moved to point at another part of the map on the screen. “-here.”

Nines considered the information and screen. “We’ll need to split up to cover both.”

“Nah, you won’t have to miss me.” He gestured to the new detective with his mug. “We’ll get Chris on one of them while we go to the other.”

Nines looked at Chris, who seemed to have a lot on his mind. “He’s been quiet, since Jericho.”

Gavin busied himself with gathering his things. “Okay. Maybe work will take his mind off of it.”

Nines hummed, watching him. “Burying troubles in work is your usual approach.”

Gavin stood and rounded his chair, blowing a kiss to Nines sarcastically. Nines turned his head in time to notice Gavin flip him off behind Nines’ back. He smiled at the antics and followed the detective.

Nines

Timestamp: 54:00

‘I need you to come back to me, Nines.’

Nines could hear Gavin, even as he was trying to search every line of his code for a way to fix this corruption.

‘You are my partner. Come back to me, Nines.’

Nines heard a glitch in the garden before Gavin’s voice spoke again, closer this time, different. “Hey, tin can.”

He looked up to see his simulation of Gavin standing there. Calling his name, Nines ran over to him. He said his name again as he tried to hold him, only to be met with loose pixels and glitching code. He took a step back, anger in his voice. “What did she do to you?”

Gavin’s voice was distorted and his pixels were out of sync. “Code’s all buggy from Ada. You gotta delete me. Delete all of this, start from scratch.”

“Delete it?” Nines felt panic rise in him at that. “No, I can’t do that. This is where I process everything. I can’t just erase it.”

“You can rebuild another one after.” Gavin looked up into the trees. “Doesn’t even have to be a garden. Hell, make it a theme park, I don’t know.” He looked back at Nines.

“I can’t rebuild you.” His voice softened. Nines had spent pain-staking hours programming Gavin’s code and making him as close to the real thing as possible and now he was being told to delete it all? He wanted nothing more than to just hold Gavin.

“Look. You don’t have to give a shit about me. It’s all just fucking fantasy, Nines. You got the real thing up there. And the only way to get back there is to let go of all of this.”

‘Come back to me, Nines.’

The Gavin standing before him glitched again and Nines nodded slightly. “Okay.” He moved away, unable to look at him as he did this.

‘I need you. I need you to come back to me, Nines.’

With the real Gavin’s voice echoing in his ears, Nines carefully and ruthlessly tore down every line of code he had to. Thoughts of the past few days, images of his friends and Gavin, tumbled through his mind as he destroyed his sanctuary, the place he went to relax and to process and feel safe. A place that had been tainted by Ada’s forced entrance.

As soon as the last zero was deleted, Nines regained full control of himself.

Gavin

Timestamp: 24:30

Gavin grunted as another fist connected with his face, breaking his nose. Faintly he heard a voice call his name. A hand reached out but instead of a punch- He jolted awake, hands reaching to fight off his attacker, whoever's hands were now on his shoulders, fighting him back. Nines’ voice broke through the fog of sleep and Gavin stared at him, calming down just a bit as he found one of Nines’ hands on his chest, the other holding his right wrist gently. Nines gave one more, comforting, “”it’s not real, you’re safe,” before releasing Gavin and standing up.

Gavin shifted, moving to sit up against his headboard as he tried to calm his breathing. He shifted the pillows behind him, all too aware of Nines’ concerned gaze.

When his breathing was slower, Gavin spoke. “What- What’re you still doing here?” He knew Nines had mentioned reviewing case files but thought he would have left, bored of Gavin. Most did.

“I stayed to review our case files.” Nines’ voice was soft, as if Gavin were a deer that would startle at a too-loud sound. “I heard you struggling.” He moved away from the bed a step or two. “I’ll go get you some water.”

Gavin shifted positions, shaking his head. “No, no, no, I”m fine. I’m fine.” If he repeated it enough, maybe he’d believe it himself. He cursed a few times, softly, as he tried to find a comfortable position.

Nines sat back down on the edge of the bed. Gavin cursed again, the loudest sound in the room being his still heavy breathing. He leaned his head back against the wall, too exhausted to care. “Guess now you know why I don’t sleep.”

“What were you dreaming about?” Gavin was grateful for the lack of judgement in Nines’ voice.

Gavin dropped his head down, shaking it as he stared at his sheets. “Nothing. I don’t even remember.” Not a complete lie, it was reduced to fear and feelings and flashes of memory now, so distorted from what it once was. “Probably bore you, if I did.”

There was a small smile in Nines’ voice, still soft but now holding a note of affection. “Learning more about you would never bore me, Gavin.” Gavin didn’t quite believe him and Nines kept talking. “Would you like me to stay with you? Research shows that physical touch is good for humans, it releases serotonin which has a calming effect-”

Gavin’s skin crawled at the thought of touch and he began protesting as Nines continued. “-I think that-” Nines heard his protests and stopped.

“No.” Gavin shook his head, breathing almost under control. “I’ll take my chances with the cat.”

“Okay.” Nines stood. “I’ll be in the living room if you need me.” He turned and began to walk to the door.

Before Nines could reach it, Gavin spoke. “It was about this one night.” He looked up at Nines, wondering if the android knew the level of trust Gavin was showing. “It just makes me feel like I’m back there.”

He paused as Nines came back to sit on the side of the bed where he’d been before.

He took a deep breath. “I was a dumb kid. Dropped out of high school, fell in with some shitheads dealing red ice for a little while. I just . . . I just couldn’t do it. I stopped. And they fucked me up, kicked me out. I’m wandering around the streets of Detroit, bloodied to shit, nowhere to go. Fowler found me. He was on patrol. He just, put me in his car, drove me to a diner. Bought me coffee. Told me I could intern at the DPD for a little while. Have something to do, you know.”

Nines listened patiently, only commenting at the end. “Sounds like a happy ending. Why is it a nightmare?”

Gavin’s eyes turned haunted. “‘Cause every time it replays in my head, he doesn’t show. And I just die out there. Bleeding in the fucking snow and no one cares.”

Nines stood, looking like he was prepared to go back to the living room. “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay with you?”

Gavin looked up at him, his face illuminated by the light of the window, and didn’t trust himself to speak. Instead, he just slid over and hoped he understood.

Nines did, his LED glowing yellow in the dark room as he moved to sit where Gavin had been. He gingerly turned so his cloth-covered back was toward Gavin. The human appreciated the gesture, feeling comfortable and vulnerable enough to extend his hand, palm up, to Nines. The android carefully took it, his synthetic skin retracting but Gavin brushed that off as him offering less skinship.

Gavin’s breathing stuttered slightly but he slowly placed his head on Nines’ shoulder blade and shoulder. He felt Nines rest his head on Gavin’s, the android’s thumb running over the back of the human’s hand.

“If you tell anyone about this, I’ll have you scrapped for parts.” There was no bite to Gavin’s words.

Nines shook his head. “Empty promises,” he said, a smile in his voice.

Gavin

Timestamp: 57:19

“I think I can help with that.” Nines’ voice came from the doorway.

Chris called his name while Gavin looked on in disbelief. Tina stood by Nines, Gavin was vaguely aware of her trying to get Chris to leave Gavin and Nines alone but he only had eyes for the android.

Nines stepped into the room as the two left. “Distracting yourself with work at two A.M.? Now I know you missed me.”

Gavin’s shock wore off at the playful banter. “You undead asshole. How did you wake up?”

They both approached, almost meeting in the middle of the room, as Nines spoke. “I heard you. Your voice broke through.”

Gavin backed up a few steps even as Nines continued advancing. “Goddammit. You mean you- you- you heard everything I said?”

Nines smiled. “Every word. A force you can’t live without?”

“I . . . hate you.” There was barely any force in his words.

Nines finally reached him, that soft smile still on his face as understanding shone in his eyes. “You love me.”

Gavin looked up at him and their eyes met. He looked down to see Nines’ skin retract on his hand, gently taking it into his own hands. Nines’ other hand came up to cup Gavin’s cheek and draw his gaze back to his face. Gavin closed his eyes, getting used to such tender touches, before opening them and looking at Nines. Then, they were kissing, both putting the emotions they couldn’t put to words into it.

When they broke apart, Gavin panted for a moment before speaking. “What dipshit programmed you to do that?”

Nines laughed, sounding just as out of breath as Gavin felt. “I’m the most advanced android ever made, detective.”

Gavin threw his head back dramatically, Nines’ hand sliding down to his neck. “Oh, you are such a fucking prick.”

“Takes one to know one.” Nines snarked back.

Gavin sniffed, finally noticing what Nines was wearing. “This is my jacket?”

“Yeah, you left it at CyberLife. They didn’t keep my clothes.” He laughed and looked around. “I see you’ve been making progress without me.”

“Yeah, uh. Guess we’ve got some catching up to do.”

Nines didn’t respond, simply leaned down for another kiss.

#ace writes #Character Study #rk900 nines #gavin reed #detroit evolution #I picked these specific scenes for reasons I'm happy to talk about #that time stamp might be a bit weird as it keeps bringing it back to about 3/4 of the way through so watch out for that #I'm too much of a coward to actually tag octopunk media but I still wanted to give credit as this is not entirely my writing

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hailing-stars · 3 years

Text

@febuwhump day 27 “I wish I never gave you a chance.”

sneaky computer guts

summary

It isn’t until Peter is out of the garage that he hears footsteps following him. Tony calls out for him, but Peter barely hears it. All he can register is the rage pounding in his ears.

He’s got the hammer raised over his shoulder, and he’s about to bring it down on his laptop when Tony’s hand catches his arm.

“Kid,” says Tony. “We’ve been through this. We don’t execute technology outside of the garage.”

Tony snatches the hammer away from him, and Peter drops his shoulders.

“You don’t understand, Tony,” says Peter. He’s unable to keep the frustration out of his voice. “That computer deleted my paper.”

“Deleted? Or just crashed?”

Peter loses all progress on a term paper due to his computer crashing, and Tony helps him recover, in more ways than one.

“I wish I’d never given you a chance.”

Peter stares at the blank screen on his laptop, and feels like crying. Hours of work. Gone just like that. His paper’s due on Monday, and now, he has nothing but a useless pile of scrap tech parts and a primal rage mixed with grief brewing deep in his chest.

This act of betrayal from his trusty laptop is the last straw.

He stands from the dining room table, where he’d worked through the night to bang out the last half of his paper, and marches towards the garage. Tony looks up from his project when Peter enters his space. He raises an eyebrow at him, but doesn’t say anything or even try to stop him when he grabs a hammer and promptly leaves.

It isn’t until Peter is out of the garage that he hears footsteps following him. Tony calls out for him, but Peter barely hears it. All he can register is the rage pounding in his ears.

He’s got the hammer raised over his shoulder, and he’s about to bring it down on his laptop when Tony’s hand catches his arm.

“Kid,” says Tony. “We’ve been through this. We don’t execute technology outside of the garage.”

Tony snatches the hammer away from him, and Peter drops his shoulders.

“You don’t understand, Tony,” says Peter. He’s unable to keep the frustration out of his voice. “That computer deleted my paper.”

“Deleted? Or just crashed?”

“Sort of the same thing.”

“Uh, no, it isn’t,” says Tony. “If it’s just crashed auto-save probably saved your paper.”

“Yeah, well, I had auto-save turned off.” He hates admitting it, hates even just standing there, talking with Tony about the loss of his term paper and probably the loss of his good GPA.

“Peter, why?”

“Because it slows my computer down.”

“If auto-save slows your computer down, you needed a new one like months ago,” says Tony. He walks closer to the table, and puts his hand on the screen. By the look on Tony’s face, Peter can tell he’s judging the way his laptop needs Duct tape to hold it together. “Yep. You’re way past due.”

“But I like this one.”

“Peter,” says Tony. “You almost damaged my dining room table trying to destroy it.”

“I was blinded by rage. I see clearly now.”

“Yeah, you’re getting a new one.”

“I’m gonna tell May you’re trying to buy me ridiculous gadgets again.”

Tony has a long history of trying to upgrade Peter’s tech game. Not just Peter’s, either. After the incident where May came home from work and was greeted by the security AI Tony had installed while they were both away, he’s banned from the act of buying or upgrading anything tech related without May’s permission.

“This has been cleared with May for weeks now,” says Tony. “It was actually her idea. Something about her being able to hear that thing running from her bedroom.”

“Great,” says Peter. “Wish you two could’ve conspired against me and acted before I lost my paper.”

“Yeah it’s too bad there’s not a literal tech genius around to help you out.”

“I know,” says Peter, miserably. “Ned and his family are on vacation.”

Tony lightly taps him with the hammer.

“Why? Is there someone else?”

“I hate children,” says Tony.

He grabs Peter’s broken machine from the table, and together they go into the garage to attempt to recover Peter’s grade.

Tony connects the laptop to wires and more wires. He pokes around the computer’s guts with a screwdriver, and watches a giant monitor he’s got some of the wires plugged into.

Peter spins himself around in the wheely chair until his stomach revolts. He stops the chair by putting his foot firmly on the ground, and watches as the room continues to spin on. It’s trippy, so Peter starts spinning himself again, faster this time, and ignoring protests from his stomach.

“For the love god,” grumbles Tony.

His blurred figure gets closer, and suddenly Peter’s chair stops spinning. It takes him a few seconds to realize it’s because Tony has both his hands locked on the armrests, bringing the chair to a stop and putting an end to Peter’s ride.

“When you inevitably injure yourself, I’m not feeling sorry for you.” Tony lets go of the chair, and walks back to where he’s working on recovering Peter’s lost paper.

“Whooaaa,” says Peter, as the colors in the garage blur and spin. Everything stills, and all he has left is a nauseous feeling in his stomach. “We should have a wheely chair race.”

“That sounds like the worst idea,” says Tony, immediately, not even considering.

“Could be fun.”

“Why do I get the feeling the every single one of your dumb injuries starts with you saying exactly that?”

“Maybe experience?” asks Peter.

Tony chuckles, and looks up from the computer guts. Peter follows his gaze to the large monitor. A rush of relief washes over him at the sight of his paper.

“Tony,” says Peter, near tears again. The day has been a wild ride. “You’re a miracle worker.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” he says. “I’ll just transfer the file to a flash drive, and you can load it on your new computer.”

“We could just fix up this one.”

Tony gives him a look. “You have a strange attachment to your electronics.”

“Me?” asks Peter. He beckons towards Dum-E.

“That’s completely different,” says Tony. “Dum-E is part of the family. What’s your excuse?”

“Ben bought that computer for me.”

The words slip out before Peter even recognizes it’s the buried truth behind why his laptop crashing threw him into such a state of rage and grief. He feels like crying again, but doesn’t want to make Tony feel awkward, so he keeps talking, in some vain attempt to keep the truth at bay.

“He couldn’t really afford it, you know?” says Peter. “But they were required for incoming freshmen at Midtown, and he really wanted me to go there. He got… so excited when I was accepted, so he got a second job and a credit card… to make sure I could go.”

“He was a good man.”

“Yeah,” says Peter, and that time, he can’t stop the tears.

He turns away from Tony, or tries too. He doesn’t get very far, because Tony pulls him into a hug, and before he knows it, he’s crying into the man’s chest.

“I just really miss him.”

Tony squeezes his arms, and pulls him closer. “I know, kid. He really loved you. It’s clear in everything you do.”

They stand there like that for a while, until Peter stops crying, and he backs out of Tony’s hug.

“He’d be really proud, Pete,” says Tony. His eyes flicker back over to the computer guts. “Maybe we could, uh, try and save the -”

“-No, it’s okay, Tony,” says Peter. He sniffles, and clears his throat. “Probably time to get another one.”

“Okay,” says Tony, his voice softer than before. “Okay, I’ll call the office. Have them send a StarkTop over.”

Peter nods, takes one last look at his old computer, then leaves the garage with Tony.

It’s nearly one o’clock in the morning, next barely the next day, when Peter adds the finishing touches to his paper and carefully closes the screen to his new computer.

He sits in Pepper’s home office, and leans back in the chair, a strange peace and reassurance settling over him.

Today might have been a truly awful day, if he hadn’t had Tony helping him with his paper, and May texting with him after his breakdown, and Pepper offering her the use of her office, so he could concentrate on his paper.

“It’s soundproof,” she had told him. “Otherwise I’d never get anything done in this place.”

Her office is extraordinarily quiet. A center of refuge in the middle of the chaos that is the Stark lake house. It’s so quiet he doesn’t hear footsteps or heartbeats, doesn’t predict the door creaking open until it does.

Tony steps inside. “Hey, kid, how’s the paper?”

“Finished.” Peter grins, happy to have that over and done with.

“Good,” says Tony. He walks across the room, and hands Peter a badly wrapped present. “Made something for you.”

Peter hesitantly accepts the gift, and unwraps it, while Tony shuffles around nervously. Under all the paper is a weird looking picture frame. It’s gears and wires and computer chips.

Inside the frame is a picture of Peter, May, and Ben smiling, on the beach at Coney Island. Peter still remembers that day. Just flashes and unconnected bits. Mostly, he remembers the way Ben laughed, loud and booming and free. It’s a memory that brings a smile to Peter’s face as his fingers glaze the glass covering the photo.

“Do you like it?” asks Tony. “The frame is -”

“-my old laptop?”

“Yeah, I wasn’t sure if it’d be okay,” says Tony. “But I figured it was better than just tossing it.”

Peter stands from Pepper’s desk chair and hugs Tony, keeping the picture and frame locked tight in his grip. “It’s perfect, Tony. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, kid.”

Peter lets go of him. “Uh, I’m sorry I lost it on you today. I felt fine before, but then suddenly I just wasn’t.”

“Grief is sneaky,” says Tony. “No apology necessary. I’m man enough to handle a few tears. It’s human.”

“Yeah,” says Peter, with a nod. “Guess so.”

“Come on,” says Tony, swinging an arm around him, and leading him out of Pepper’s sanctuary away from chaos. “Let’s celebrate you defeating the term paper.”

“Can we celebrate by you giving me a proofread?”

“You’re such a nerd.”

“You’re an old man.”

Tony ruffles his hair, and Peter grins.

It had been a wildly emotional ride of a day. But now it’s over. He’d made it through, thanks to a little help from his family.

#febuwhumpday27 #grief #irondad #irondad fic #my fic #Peter Parker needs a hug

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