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puppetoffthehook · 1 year

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I’ll Be With You When the Roses Bloom Again

Inspired by @giurochedadomani idea for a Winter Soldier Mungrove AU

Sometimes he hates that he agreed to this shit. The war was one thing. He didn’t want to go but his father forced him to enlist to “become a man instead of a waste of skin.” And Eddie.. The blonde threw back another shot just thinking of him. Of lost love. Eddie didn’t get a choice; framed for murder, enlisting was offered up as his only way out of life in prison. Now he’s dead.

———

“C’mon, Billy boy! Let loose a little!” The beautiful brown eyes of his best childhood friend were clouded with the sorrow they both felt. The knowledge that the love blossoming between them could be trampled in bootcamp or the battlefield.

“Don’t tell me to loosen up, Eddie. Not tonight. Not when they’re shipping us off to bootcamp tomorrow.” He reached out to run gentle fingers through unkempt locks of brown hair. “I’ll miss that hair. They’re going to shave it all off, you know.”

Eddie shook his head. “Not if my dear Billy does it first. Be a sport and cut it for me? I’d rather you leave me something to work with than have them shave me bald.”

And so it was that Billy cut Eddie’s hair while the musician played a tune on his guitar. It was a familiar song and Billy knew it was meant for the two of them. He began to sing as he worked.

“They are roaming in the gloaming, where the roses are in bloom.Just a soldier and his sweetheart, staunch and true. But her heart is filled with sorrow, and her thoughts are of the morrow, as she pins a rose upon his coat of blue. Do not ask me, love, to linger. For you know what you say. When my duty calls, my sweetheart's voice in vain. But your heart need not be sighing, if i'm not among the dying, I'll be with you when the roses bloom again.”

With the haircut done and Eddie’s hair looking more “acceptable” than ever, the two looked upon each other in silent understanding. If they lived through the war, they’d never part. A promise sealed with one last kiss.

———

So much has happened since then. Billy threw himself on a dummy grenade - not out of any sense of caring for others (so he says), but with the knowledge that his life only mattered to one person while all the other men had wives and children. That attempt at sacrifice led the military scientists to recruit him for their super soldier program. He became Captain America, a fighting force for the nation that looked on men like him as garbage.

Separated at bootcamp, he was reunited with Eddie for a mission to stop Hydra in some big move of theirs. A weapons cache or something like that. Eddie was the first one he requested to have on the mission. He was the only one Billy lost; falling from the train to the abyss below as Billy screamed his name. He finished that mission in Eddie’s name. And he’s been trying all day to get drunk in Eddie’s honor.

Heather entered the bar where Billy sat alone with six empty bottles of various shitty booze all over the table. He gestured to the empty chair across from him without looking up from his glass. He didn’t have the energy.

“If you people had told me I’d never get drunk again I wouldn’t have agreed to be your guinea pig.” The blonde stated plainly.

“As the guinea pig, we had no way of knowing it would have that side effect. We told you from the beginning you were the first success.” Heather sighed as Billy scoffed and downed another glass. “Are you trying to die of alcohol poisoning? Do you think Eddie would want you to die like that?”

Billy stood from the bar table abruptly, dropping a few of the empty bottles as well as the full one he’d just tapped in to. The glass shattering didn’t bother him like it once did, knowing his father was back in the states. “You don’t know a damn thing about me and Eddie so shut your fucking mouth, Holloway!”

“I know you loved each other. I stumbled upon the two of you a few nights before the mission. I saw him kiss you.” Billy was wide-eyed but Heather’s held only sorrow for the man who had become her friend. “The world treats men like you terribly but you still chose to fight. It’s a terrible loss and I’m sorry I can’t do more for you… His effects are in your bunk. Go through them and anything you don’t keep will be sent back home to his uncle. It’s the least we can do to give him closure since his nephew’s body remains unfound.”

As she left Billy’s ear tuned in to the sound of the radio. It had been playing the entire time but now there was a tune he recognized. One that sent him to his knees with an agonizing wail.

When the roses bloom again beside the river

And the robin redbreast sings his sweet refrain

As in days of Auld Lang Syne

I'll be with you sweetheart mine

I'll be with you when the roses bloom again.

#mungrove #drabble #I hope you like it!!#billy hargrove

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ckneal · 3 years

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So, there’s this one angel story in the back of my head that I know I wont write. I wont write it, because it’s utter nonsense, with very little regard for the canonical timeline of Supernatural, and a willfully blurry view on what is and is not “in character.” It’s fluff. It’s all fluff, in the form of a bunch of smaller stories that gradually weave together, following the Love, Actually style of storytelling, but instead of problematic love stories, it’s all about angels playing hooky from Heaven after the Fall.

(Seriously, there is no substance here, I swear.)

Stories include Abner, living out the first half of the movie Family Man, struggling to figure out how to be a good father and house husband after he steps into the life of the raging alcoholic who agreed to be his vessel. There’s also a very minor story about Esther (not to be confused with Hester, who is not in this story because she never deserted her post in Heaven) learning to play the part of a little girl and navigating schoolyard politics, but kids can be mean and Esther learns the hard way that Michael’s approach to asserting dominance in Heaven does not translate well. There’s also Daniel and Adina, who both settle into vessels in the same movie theater where a romantic comedy is playing, and fall into a very innocent, play-acting sort of love after they leave the theatre—like little kids pretending to be in love, recreating the scenes from the movie, but at the same time not really understanding it. Balthazar, Gabriel, and Anael each trying to roll with the luxurious high roller life style, and awkwardly running into each other at VIP poker games, exclusive spas and clubs, and the occasional orgy that they promptly leave IMMEDATELY after running into a sibling (don’t give me weird looks, Balthazar and Gabriel canonically include that sort of thing in their definition of luxury, and the whole thing of their story is their siblings keep cramping their style). Tyrus is in there bowling, somewhere. Benjamin’s playing arcade games with his wife. And then there’s Thaddeus, my pet favorite minor angel character, realizing what’s happening as he’s falling with all the other faithful angels during the Fall and seizing the opportunity to abandon his life as a guard and torturer, settling into a pop star for his vessel—initially for the sake of the cushy lifestyle, but then gradually looking back, before the garden and Lucifer, before everyone was assigned a job in Heaven, like it or not, and the options were to adapt or to be smote, and remembering that back then, he could sing.

And of course, Michael and Adam get a story too—in which Michael lowkey gets into a pissing contest with death, as he and Adam travel the world, hitting up hospital after hospital to heal people. Because the first thing Adam wanted to do after getting out of the cage (okay, second thing—burgers came first) was go to the nearest medical center and start healing people left and right. And at first, they’re having a great time. Adam steals a white jacket he finds in the breakroom somewhere, and anytime someone says he looks a little young to be a doctor (Adam still looking nineteen years old, because I say so), Michael wipes the poor sap’s mind. But eventually—sometime after they’ve cleared out the children’s ward, the cancer ward, the cardiac ward—Billie shows up, sniping at them that they can’t just go around healing people who are destined to die, because there is an order to life and death that cannot be shoved aside. And Billie tries to make a show of it, as Terra did with Dean, by having several people who Adam had healed over the course of the day inadvertently cause several massive accidents. The news suddenly comes pouring out of the television, channels flipping as newscasters talk about tragedies occurring in several different parts of the city they’re currently in. The sound of approaching ambulance sirens fills the air, as in the hospital hallway, doctors and nurses begin hurrying to receive a rush of ER patients.

Adam’s horrified.

Michael does not take kindly to this. He snaps his fingers and makes it so that the carnage has never happened. Because he is the archangel Michael, only two steps away from being a god, and if he says that all of these people are going to live, then they are going to live, and he WILL NOT be intimidated, especially by an amateur reaper whose only qualification for her position was dying at the right time.

Billie in turn lands Michael with a cold stare, and points out that the order to life and death is beyond even God’s authority, let alone daddy’s blunt, sniveling instrument.

As Michael’s eyes start to glow, Adam steps in and says, “So, to be clear, you want us to stop healing people on the verge of death? We can do that.”

After Billie leaves, Michael is outraged, but Adam says, “No, Michael, THINK about it.”

We then cut to other stories, where newscasts in the background reveal that ailments that are not IMMIEDATELY fatal (AIDs, diabetes, Alzheimer’s, etc.) are mysteriously disappearing overnight, worldwide.

Billie is not amused, and tells her reapers to be on the lookout for an archangel at every major hospital in the world.

Cut to Michael throwing open the door of the bunker, muttering aloud to Adam that he’s going to do it, he’s going to bind Death, just like Lucifer did—how hard can it be? Sam and Dean see him as he goes stomping off toward the cabinet where they keep all of their magical dry goods, but Michael snaps his fingers and the two of them are abruptly half drunk in Dean’s man cave, sitting in front of Dean’s flat screen TV, watching some campy monster movie, because that’s lowkey what Michael and Adam assume they do all day.

As they’re raiding Sam and Dean’s supplies though, Adam says, “Wait, I have an idea.”

Cut to Abner looking up while pushing his vessel’s daughter in a park swing, and literally seeing Michael and Adam chasing an ambulance, so they can technically heal the person inside before reaching the hospital.

Yes, I’m aware that Abner was dead by the time Michael and Adam got out of the cage. But see, this story? This story is like when someone gifts you a goldfish unexpectedly, and you put it in a bowl, checking in to feed it a couple times a day, lowkey expecting it to die. But it doesn’t die, it gets bigger. And you’re not a cruel person, so you put it in a bigger tank, but it just gets bigger again, and you don’t really know what’s going on, but you know, you just kind of keep checking in, meeting the minimum requirements but not really getting in there as a guiding force because it’s a goldfish and it’s surely going to die any minute now—but then you look over and there’s giant tank taking up your living room, and you’re thawing out bloodworms twice a day, and looking into tankmates to keep Charles company, and realize that “Oh wow, I guess this is a thing now.”

In short, the story says we’re ignoring the timeline, and it’s calling the shots. I’m just keeping the tank clean.

The angels all eventually wind up running into each other. Abner and Esther happen upon one another in a park, where Esther is morosely realizing that she is terrible at being a human child but she does not want to go home to Heaven, and it just happens to be the same park where Abner goes with his “little nibblet” once a day to let her toddle around the playground while he chats with nannies and other house parents. Anael, Adina, and Daniel meet up when the latter two’s game has reached the point where they’ve decided to get married, and they apparently need to buy something new—preferably blue—as per this very important rhyme someone told them about. Esther and Gabriel run into each other in an ice cream parlor. Thaddeus gets recognized while doing an interview on TV that everyone sees. And, while out joyriding in a Lamborghini, on their way to meet up with the growing community of angels who decided to opt out of their responsibility to Heaven and their father’s legacy, Balthazar, Gabriel, and Anael are all startled to see Michael land on an ambulance stopped next to them at a red light.

Balthazar and Anael are both terrified, as if they’ve just been busted by a parent, because Michael, of course, is the guy who enforces the rules, and isn’t he supposed to be in Hell? They both shoot Gabriel looks as if to say ‘what the hell are you doing’ when Gabriel, watching as Michael climbs down and matter-of-factly wrenches the ambulance doors open, calls out, “Hey, Mike! Is that you?”

Michael looks over, freezes for a second—not prepared to be suddenly thrust into a social situation in the middle of his self-imposed mission to spite death—then his eyes flash and Adam takes over. “Oh hey, you’re Michael’s family? What a small world! I’m Adam, I’ve heard so much about you. Wait, hang on—”

The light starts to turn green, but Adam snaps his fingers and it promptly reverts to red.

Three jaws drop in the luxury car, and they don’t even hear Adam politely explain that he and Michael are in the middle of something, as he ducks into the ambulance, because Michael’s evidently letting a tiny human use his powers like it’s nothing, and what does that mean?

“Sweet dad in the unknown, Michael’s shagging a human. . .”

“Nooo!”

“HOW?”

“Hey, kid, you like weddings?”

At some point in the story, all the MIA angels are together, and Benjamin or someone comes running in saying, “Quick, they’re coming! Everyone hide!”

And everyone scatters, except for Michael, who stands in place, saying, “Gabriel, we’re archangels, two of the most powerful beings in existence. Why would we—”

And then Gabriel picks Adam up like a sack of potatoes and sprints off, calling back, “Trust me, you do NOT want to get involved with them!”

Being a projection, Michael is obligated to follow.

Team Free Will then walks by, looking constipated from whatever Big Awful Thing is currently threatening to destroy the world.

The story, of course, culminates in the wedding of Adina and Daniel, who still don’t quite understand what marriage is beyond promising to love each forever, which of course they will, after all, they are the very best of friends—which is about the same concept that most of the other angels present have. Adam is the first one to actually approach the big awkward question, upon finding out who the bride and groom are.

“Wait, aren’t they brother and sister?”

To which Serafina’s Adam, (who is of course there since Serafina was the original angel to play hooky) whose sons married his daughters, and all the angels, who do not understand what that has to do with anything, all cock their heads in unison and respond with, “So?”

Adam struggles to find words, looking into so many innocent faces. Then Benjamin’s wife puts a hand on his shoulder, whispering, “Shhh, let them have their fun.”

Benjamin’s wife and the two Adams wind up sitting at the venue’s bar, where they order nachos from a very confused bar tender, and watch as the angels go about setting up a wedding. But given that most angels haven’t been on earth regularly in roughly two thousand years, none of them have a clear grasp of what a human wedding entails.

“I heard it’s traditional for the father to give away the bride.”

“I think they’re supposed to kiss over bread.”

“Do humans still slaughter cows at these things?”

“I’m pretty sure someone is supposed to break a glass—”

Several angels promptly throw glassware on the floor.

At no point do the angels ask the humans for advice.

Occasionally, Gabriel knowingly throws out obscure details to keep the confusion going.

“You know, the groom needs to stand with the right arm to the aisle in case a sword fight breaks out.”

“Right! . . .How do we know which one’s the groom?”

At the bar, Adam open’s his mouth to say something, but the original Adam shushes him.

“No no, son, let them get there.”

The angels agree that being the better fighter, Adina should be the groom.

They’re nearly ready to start when Michael suddenly doubles over with his hand over his mouth. It coincides with the sound of Adam pounding the bar top, having just eaten a Carolina Reaper pepper on dare. Michael’s eyes quickly flash silver-blue as he straightens, and both he and Adam are abruptly fine—even if their eyes are still watering somewhat. But a different sort of damage has already been done, as Anael, Balthazar, and Gabriel all abruptly turn toward the triad of humans, having been reminded that the Michael walking around with them is actually a projection. In actuality, Michael is anchored to the human ex-college student sitting at the bar.

All three of them rush toward Adam, but Serafina gets there first, asking Adam if he’s ever tried mushroom tea.

Balthazar gets there next.

“Adam, was it? We didn’t get to talk in the car, let’s fix that. Are you over twenty-one? You know what, this is a family affair, don’t worry—CAN I GET TWO SHOTS OF DON JULIO OVER HERE?”

From that point on, any time Adam turns around, there’s one of Michael’s siblings, wanting to get to know him—by consuming some sort of beverage. Because Adam and Michael are sharing body—and that means they share a liver too. A bet ensues as to how much it will take to get God’s alleged favorite wasted.

Gabriel’s actually one of the first out, having been convinced that Michael would be a lightweight. Little does he suspect that Benjamin and his wife caught onto what was happening soon after Adam was fed his third long island iced tea and second jager bomb, and began quietly cleansing the alcohol from his system through casual shoulder pats and high fives.

Adam does not know what to make of any of this, but it’s Michael’s family and he wants to make a good impression, so he just goes with it.

Thaddeus, of course, is in charge of music, Gabriel and Esther consume the majority of the cake, and Michael catches the bouquet (he may have cheated after finding out what the bouquet toss is for).

#my thoughts #lowkey might be putting this idea out so it'll leave me alone #midam #supernatural angels #the divine shurley family

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consumeconstantly · 4 years

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Who Are You (and what will you become?)

1(you are here)| 2 | 3 | 4

Summary: “Over the years, I have found that blood means very little.”

The ice clicks against the glass almost inaudibly, condensation dripping down the side.

“So tell me, M. Wayne, why do you think I should even begin to consider you my father?” (all biodad bruce can be read as stand alone but are posted in chronological order)

__________________________________________________

At the tender age of nineteen, Marinette Dupain-Cheng has already become a jaded woman. It doesn’t shine through very often, hidden behind a carefully crafted facade of Parisian-brand carefree attractiveness and pigtailed youthfulness, but there exists, in Marinette, a certain bitterness.

“For a vigilante, you’re not very secretive,” Marinette remarks, keeping her tone measured, almost playful, so as not to draw attention to herself.

“Marinette.” Bruce inclines his head and allows the bartender to serve him a whiskey sour. He doesn’t drink alcohol because it alters his mental state in ways that are unpleasant, but ordering a drink helps him fit in, and with Marinette, the person he wants to talk to, right at his side, he can’t have his normal ginger ale substitute. “It’s good to see you.”

“Mmm.” She takes a sip of her French 75, playing up an interest that Bruce knows is a lie. “M. Wayne, you say that as though we’re familiar with each other.”

“Sabine and I were close,” he says.

Sabine is one of the few people who knew about his existence as Batman that didn’t live in Gotham. Many years ago, they were friends. Colleagues. (More.) Of course she told her daughter about who he was. How could she not have?

Sabine is-- she was--

“Close, you call it,” she says with mock awe, words slurring together. “Closer than close, really. Too close for comfort— at least, too close for you.”

When Bruce and Sabine’s paths crossed all those years ago, he was struggling trying to raise Dick. Sabine was equal parts a mother and a mentor to Dick in all the ways that Bruce couldn’t be. When she left for Paris so abruptly after the two of them parted ways, Dick didn’t take it very well. Even moreso when communications halted permanently. The fact that the radio silence coincided with Marinette’s birth is something only Bruce is privy to.

However awkwardly he and Sabine left off, it doesn’t change the facts. Bruce’s lips thin. “I’m here to offer you a home.”

Swirling her French, Marinette taps at her phone, swiping away at a few messages that she’s not interested in. “I’m nineteen and more than capable of taking care of myself. Though I suppose it stands to reason that it would be difficult for you to know that, what with how busy your extracurriculars keep you.”

“I’m not doubting your capabilities.” He’s looked into what Marinette has been up to over the past nineteen years of her life. He’s never been particularly concerned with her upbringing, not with a woman like Sabine at the helm of her childhood. Bruce was right not to be worried; Marinette has grown into a multi talented, extremely well connected entrepreneur based on her own hard work. Judging by the crowd that she runs with and the multiple charities that she supports both financially and with her own time, she will be a force to be reckoned with in a few years; Tim regularly extols the virtues of the brand MDC, and if he knew that he was sisters with the designer, he’d never stop raving about her. MDC is already being compared to the likes of Dior and Gabriel when they were first starting out. Her finances aren’t anything to scoff at, and at a few galas and charity parties that he’s had to entertain, anyone who's had the privilege to wear an MDC original talks about how sweet and kind the head designer is while complimenting the CEO’s business savvy.

Bruce has to admit that he’s impressed by how she manages to keep her identities separate. No one suspects the head designer to also be manning publicity and business.

He’s been watching her for the past day, and he has to say, for somebody whose parents just died, she carries herself with remarkable ease. If not for the red around her eyes and line of shots on the bartop, Bruce would believe that Tom and Sabine’s death didn’t phase her at all.

“There’s a but, isn’t there?” Marinette says bitterly.

She’s right in that assumption. As skillful as Marinette is in her field, she has no practical combat experience. A brief stint in fencing and martial arts but nothing beyond that. Even if she practiced martial arts for years, that wouldn’t be enough to convince Bruce to let her go off on her own. Martial arts as a hobby is an entirely different game than fighting for one’s life.

Marinette is simply not the kind of person who can face down a League member and come out of it alive.

“It’s for your safety.”

For the first time since entering the bar, Bruce sees a flash of true emotion cross Marinette’s eyes. It’s hard to see the color of her eyes in the dim lighting, but it’s impossible not to see Sabine in how her eyes narrow. Perhaps the dim lighting makes it easier to; in the light of day, Marinette’s eye color— it’s too similar to the shade he sees in the mirror.

“My safety? What about my parent’s safety?”

At that, Bruce internally cringes while keeping his face carefully blank. Tom and Sabine… their end wasn’t pretty. Not the most gruesome deaths he’s ever seen, but it was up there. Bruce never thought the League would do something as cruel as desecrating the corpses of the people they murdered. They may be assassins for hire, but most times, they do have some sort of morals.

The worst part about it is that their death is most likely a result of Sabine’s past relationship with him. Last month, a tabloid that drew comparisons between Marinette and Bruce. It didn’t take long for another person to dredge up pictures from when he was still with Sabine. Tom and Sabine didn’t have enemies well-off enough to hire the League. But Bruce? Bruce did.

“I’m not interested in any protection you have to offer me.” Marinette shakes her head. “Don’t worry. I’m not like you. I won’t become a vigilante out of rage or as a coping mechanism. I’m not going to go chasing after the League in a foolish pursuit of misguided justice.”

But Marinette doesn’t understand. She has a target on her back with her newfound association to him.

“I haven’t been active in your life--”

“Understatement of the year,” Marinette mutters.

“--but I’m not going to let you die when I can prevent it.”

Downing the rest of her French, she takes the Moscow Mule away from Bruce’s hands, eyeing the liquor up on display. She drinks the cold alcohol and revels in the burn that slides down her throat. Marinette swipes on one of the notifications she’s received on her phone in order to respond to it. “You’re a good man, Bruce. But your desire to protect me— what does it stem from? What do we have in common? Why would you use your time and effort on what’s essentially a stranger?”

Bruce has no good answer for this, but he has an obvious one. As soon as it leaves his tongue, it feels wrong. “We share the same blood.”

He can’t bring himself to call Marinette his daughter. That means that he would be her father and he’s not deserving of that title.

Marinette pockets her phone, eyes trained on a set of unusually shaped glasses on the shelves. “If that’s your answer, M. Wayne, let me tell you something. Over the years, I have found that blood means very little.”

The bartender comes around and tops off the whiskey sour. The ice clicks against the glass almost inaudibly, condensation dripping down the side. Bruce can’t tell whether the bartender knows Marinette or not, but he certainly looks concerned enough to, with how his eyes shift between Marinette and himself rapid fire. When the bartender’s gaze settles on Bruce, mouth turned downward, clearly suspicious of his presence, Marinette just waves him off with a gentle smile.

Her smile turns up the same way Tom’s did. She’s right; family is more than blood.

“Your answer to why you want to protect me is that we share blood, but you speak nothing of our relationship. Shouldn’t that have been the first thing you brought up?”

Bruce shifts uncomfortably on the bar stool. Marinette just laughs at his apparent awkwardness. “Talking of blood relations seems to be something you don’t enjoy, and yet the entire premise of your protection rests on it. Tell me, M. Wayne, do you think I should even begin to consider you my father?”

Even as inebriated as Marinette must be, she brings up points that he himself wondered on his way to Paris. Wanting to see Marinette safe goes beyond a simple duty to morality and virtue. Though Bruce is known for adopting kids with tragic backstories, it simply isn’t feasible to adopt every single one he comes across. To bring Marinette into his family at this age, to expose her to the life he lives would be beyond cruel. In essence he’d be replacing two parents with a ticking time bomb: himself.

“Don’t consider me a parent, just a guardian. It’s in my best interest to see you safe, and the best way to do that is to have you move to Gotham, where my colleagues and I can assure you around the clock protection.”

At first, he distanced himself from Sabine and Marinette because he didn’t want to disrupt her current relationship with Tom. Even if the two of them insisted that he could still be part of Marinette’s life, it just didn’t feel right to have the title of father when he wasn’t the one to put in any of the hard work. Then, as Tom and Sabine grew more comfortable in their life together, settled down and opened up a bakery, he was blindsided by Jason’s death. As his daughter grew older and older, there were just too many things in his own life for him to ever hope to kindle a relationship with Marinette.

Marinette laughs, but it’s really more of a bark. Her voice is too hoarse for it to come out any other way. Bruce can’t imagine how much she’s cried this past week. “If you wanted to keep me safe, where were you a week ago? Where were you two years ago? Where were you when I was thirteen? M. Wayne, I’ve heard a lot of rumors about you throughout the years, and I’ve always brushed them off as nothing more than tabloid gossip. But perhaps they got one thing right about you: you’re a liar.”

Marinette stands, swaying slightly.

“This— if you truly want me to uproot my life, I need more than you saying it’s in your best interest. I need—” Marinette reaches up to her earrings and allows her eyes to flutter shut. She needs more than a distant guardian. She needs someone to confide in. Someone she trusts. “It was nice meeting you, but I don’t need your pity. Not now.”

As she weaves through the crowd, Bruce can’t help but wonder whether he made the right decision all those years ago to not be apart of her life.

@biodad-bruce-month

Late to the game as always. This will be a multichapter fic but all parts can be read as one shots (and also as always anything posted to tumblr is never checked for accuracy and stuff so whoop)! They’ll be released in chronological order. If you want to get tagged in all things maribat, instead of commenting it under a fic, I’d appreciate an ask or a dm instead! I haven’t been able to go back through all the previous comments and create a taglist yet but perhaps. eventually.

#bio!dad bruce wayne month 2020 #first meeting #maribat #bio!dad bruce #marinette dupain cheng #bruce wayne #referenced character death #aged up! marinette #miraculous ladybug #dcu

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pogueshomecoming · 3 years

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like to be you - jj maybank x reader

requested? nope

description: based on the song by shawn mendes and julia michaels, kook!reader and jj get in a fight about his dad and it reiterates that their lives are very different

masterlist, taglist, and request links are in my bio :)

warnings: mentions of abuse, descriptions of cuts and bruises, angst, arguments

word count: 2.5k

The chateau's door opens with a creak, and your attention is pulled away from the conversation Pope and John B are having. JJ stumbles in, barely able to walk. You're on your feet in an instant.

"JJ?" John B follows after you, Pope trailing behind him. JJ makes it four more steps before he collapses to the ground, whimpering in pain. His hair falls out of his face to reveals his bloody and bruised face.

You fall to your knees right next to him, scooting closer so his head can rest in your lap. He groans and tries to curl into himself when you lift his shirt to see if he's bleeding anywhere else. "JJ, what the hell? Do we need to go to the hospital?"

Concern fills your voice, but JJ shakes his head. "I need a shower. I'll be fine tomorrow."

JJ goes to sit up, and you have to keep your hands pressed to his back as a guide. There's no way he'd be able to stand in the shower alone.

"Was this your dad again?" Pope crouches in front of the blonde boy, taking in the bruises on his shins that looked way too similar to a boot's imprint.

"Yeah." His voice is weak, strained from using his energy, and probably screaming at his father. Your blood boils. At what point will JJ stop going home? What would it take?

"I'll help you into the shower." You mumble, trying not to show your anger because it's not JJ you're mad at. JJ tries to smile but ends up wincing, and the boys help him to his feet. John B and Pope help your boyfriend into the bathroom while you grab fresh towels from the bag of laundry you brought over this morning.

He's sitting on the toilet lid by himself when you enter the bathroom, his shirt already on the floor. You can see two more cuts on each side of his ribcage in addition to the busted lip and eyebrow. The bruise on his hip is the worst. Usually, his blood has dried by the time he gets here, but it looks like he's reopened the wounds.

"God, JJ. I'm so sorry. I know it hurts." You shut the door behind you and quickly turn on the shower. It's not long before steam starts to fill the room.

"Are you going to get in with me?" JJ's voice is soft as he undresses his lower half.

"If that's what you want." He nods, and you start to undress, too, letting him use you as a crutch once you're both ready to get in.

The silence between you two isn't uncommon. JJ knows there's not much for you to say when he's like this because he knows you hate it. You hate seeing him hurt.

You use a washcloth to scrub around the cuts gently while he watches the water turn red and swirl around the drain. One of them could need stitches, but you know he won't listen. JJ uses sleep as a cure-all.

He leans against you when you've finished cleaning his wounds, letting his forehead press into the crook of your neck. His fingers are tracing patterns in your back.

"Don't you think it's time to get out of there, J? You could move in here permanently." Your voice is quiet, and the sounds of the shower would've drowned it out if JJ wasn't skin to skin with you.

"What do you mean?" JJ pulls back, so now his hands are on your elbows.

You sigh, not sure if this would be a touchy subject in JJ's mind. "Like... this happens every time you go home, so you could not go home anymore? I don't like seeing you hurt for no reason."

"Y/N, I avoid my father as much as possible already. It sounds a lot like you're telling me it's my fault if I keep going back there." JJ furrows his brow and shakes his head, indicating that he's bothered by your words.

"No, no, of course it isn't your fault. I know you already avoid him. I just thought that maybe it's time to move away from that situation and separate yourself."

JJ is quiet, and you look at your feet, knowing you've upset him, and it's too late to take it back.

"I'm here enough. John B isn't responsible for me. It's fine, Y/N. I'll only go when he's not there from now on." JJ squeezes your arms, trying to be reassuring, but you've still got that pit in your stomach, and you've never been good at keeping your mouth shut.

"What are you talking about? John B would love for you to stay here, even more so if it meant you were staying out of danger. My family has a guest house. If you're worried about bothering JB, I can-"

"I'm a Pogue, Y/N, not a Kook. Your parents wouldn't let me stay, and I don't want to. That's not how this works. I'm not taking a handout. We've talked about it before. Not everyone wants what the Kooks have, alright? Can we drop it?" His voice rises, having more of a bite as his anger grows, and he lets go of you.

"Hey, this is not about me being a Kook. I hate when you throw that in my face, and you know it. This is about you always going back there because you think you deserve what he does to you!" The words hang in the air after you've spoken them. The only sound between the two of you is the water running. You're sure that your friends heard the argument through the paper-thin walls.

JJ visibly falters. His shoulders slump, and he starts to fiddle with his hands as he turns his back to you. After a moment, his body begins to shake as he holds back tears. You're not sure if there's anything you can say to make it better.

"Wait, J, I-" You stop talking when he turns around abruptly.

"I can't, okay? I can't leave him there. He thinks the groceries magically appear in the fridge. He thinks that he's getting paid leave from work. I work my ass off to provide for him. What happens when I stop? He'd fucking die, and then it's my fault. After everything he's done to me, I hate him. I fucking hate him, but I can't leave him."

JJ doesn't wait for a response. Instead, he gets out of the shower. You're shocked. He's never walked away from an argument. Sure, you've fought before, but it never ends with one of you leaving.

You wait until you hear the bathroom door shut to turn the water off, and then you take your time drying off. There were no clothes for you to change into, so you make sure your towel is tucked tightly before you exit the bathroom.

John B, Pope, and Kie are sitting on the couch. Kie must've arrived in the last few minutes, but the looks on their faces confirm that they heard everything. They try to look away once they realize you're looking at them, but it's too late.

"Goodnight, guys." You say weakly, feeling like you're going to cry any second now. It feels stupid to cry. JJ is the one who's hurt, but you don't want that for him anymore.

In response, they all mumble goodnight, and you turn on your heel to enter the guest room.

JJ is already in bed, the covers are pulled to his waist, and he's facing away from the door. The bandages and alcohol pads and trash that comes with that is on the dresser, so you know he's already done what you usually do for him.

Both of you are silent as you move around the room to get dressed. With each step closer, you start to dread getting into bed. When you have nothing else left, you ease in as gently as possible after turning off the light.

You didn't imagine the bed to feel so cold, and it triggers the tears you'd been holding back for JJ's sake. If he notices, he doesn't do or say anything. You lay on your back and look at the ceiling, letting your tears fall past your ears and into your hair.

The relationship you have with your father is hugely different than JJ's with his. You've never been scared to go home, you've never flinched from someone's touch, and you've never had to yearn for a parent's love and affection. The two of you live very different lives.

"I don't want to go to bed like this," JJ says softly. You hear the motion of the blankets before you feel the warmth of his hand enclosing your wrist.

"I'm sorry, J. I don't even know why I'm crying. I'm not that one who got hurt. I'm so-"

"Tired. We're both tired. I'll never judge you for crying. There's nothing left to say. Let's call a truce."

It wasn't an outright acceptance of your apology, but it was close. There were still more things you needed to say, but JJ is right. You're both tired, and it's time to go to sleep. For now, you'll stay in this weird in-between spot where you don't know if he's still upset or not.

"Yeah, sounds good." You choke out, managing so sound somewhat natural.

JJ doesn't retract his hand, but he doesn't move any closer, leaving you to fall asleep grasping onto the little warmth you're getting from him.

You wake up before JJ. Somehow your internal alarm clock is always set for earlier in the morning when your anxiety is high. He's snoring softly next to you, the bruises on his face already looking better.

JJ rolls from his side to his back, the covers falling off of him to reveal that he's almost bled through his bandages. You scoot out of bed as quietly as you can.

After leaving the room to brush your teeth, you come back with a damp washcloth and gather the medical supplies from the dresser. You start to tend to JJ's wounds while trying not to wake him up. What is he going to say when he wakes up? Is he still going to be upset with you?

It was naive of you to think your anxiety would go away overnight, but you're not sure you want to have another conversation about it. JJ stirs before you're ready, and his pretty blue eyes look at you curiously.

He said there wasn't anything left to say last night, but there was and still is. However, when you make eye contact, all of it goes out the window. You blank.

"Thanks for cleaning that up, baby." JJ smiles sweetly. You're head starts spinning with possibilities. Is he going to act as if nothing happened? Will he throw it in your face randomly to make you feel worse about it? Nothing that JJ has ever done previously would lead you to believe he'd do that, but it's where your mind takes you.

"Do you want to go to the beach?" That always cheers both of you up, but you can't tell if you're offering for him or yourself.

"Sure, sweetheart. It's too cold to swim, but I bet our spot will be open."

There was a specific tree on the beach that you and JJ liked to lay under sometimes. It had the perfect amount of shade and sun because you got cold too quickly, and JJ the opposite. Out of all of the memories you have, those are the fondest.

By the time you get to the beach, JJ still seems as normal as ever. You hadn't expected him to wake up screaming or yelling, but you did think he'd say something else—anything to make you feel like he didn't hate you for what you said would be nice.

JJ pulls you down onto the blanket with him to assume your regular cuddling position, but it's modified slightly with his bandages. "You don't have to act like I'll break, Y/N. I've survived a lot of things so far, so accidentally putting your hand over my wound isn't going to do shit."

"Alright, alright." You allow yourself to giggle despite your mind telling you that he's angry with you.

The two of you trail off into silence after a few moments of laughter, both deep in thought. You nervously pick at your nails, wondering what JJ is thinking about. Does he have a speech he's rehearsing in his head? Is he waiting for the right moment?

"Y/N, how could you? You didn't-"

"I'm sorry, JJ. About what I said, I didn't mean to come at you like that. You should still be mad at me, I-" you start to ramble, but JJ cuts you off.

"What? I was going to say you didn't give me my good morning kiss. You always do. Are you still thinking about the fight? It's fine, Y/N, really. Look at me," JJ shifts so you can turn to face him.

"It was harsh, but I needed to hear it. In some ways, I think you're right. Sometimes I blame myself for my mother leaving, which is why he's the way he is, so it comes full circle. I know that's fucked up, but it's getting better. I'm getting better. Why didn't you tell me you were still worrying about it?"

You have to ignore your heartbreaking at his words to be able to talk. JJ has let his father into his head, but you can imagine how hard it would be not to.

"I don't know. You stopped the conversation last night, and I didn't want to push anymore than I already did. I figured I'd wait until you were ready to talk about it, but I've been anxious all morning thinking about it." You take a deep breath.

"Sometimes, when we fight, it scares me because I feel like I'm going to lose you a little each time. We get so caught up in the moment, and I just... We're so different. I don't know what it's like to be you."

JJ places his hands on either side of your face, and at the same time, he wipes a tear that has fallen onto your cheek.

"You can always tell me what's inside of your head, alright? No matter what you say, I won't love you any less. You're right, you don't know what it's like to be me, but I'm in the same boat. Our differences aren't what defines us, right? We've said that since the beginning." JJ reassures you by giving you a quick and sweet kiss.

"I love you, J."

You shove yourself into his chest, and maybe you miss the wince on JJ's face, but he doesn't say anything because he doesn't mind. The weight you've been carrying on your shoulders since he left you in the shower last night is gone.

But you might disagree with JJ. Your differences are what makes you right for each other. JJ is the one that pulls you out when you're stuck far in the depths of your mind, and you're the one who cleans his cuts and bruises. You don't understand what he goes through, but you're still there to pick up the pieces, and that's all that matters to him.

jj maybank taglist + mutuals: @wlwkie , @jjjmaybank , @shawnssongs , @hopelesswritingxd , @newsiestrash123 , @millie-753 , @thatsonobx, @jjtheangel , @obxkie, @baileysb1tch, @ohbx, @babysbestlife , @psychicforest , @fanficscuziranout , @maebanks , @diverdown06, @pogue-writings , @maybankdreams , @thelocalpogue , @maybe-maybanks , @dpaccione , @teenwaywardasgardian , @extratragic , @pixelated-pogues , @kitluvs1 , @a-brooding-bird , @ilovejjmaybank , @damonsalvawhore27 , @beth-winchester21 , @danicarosaline , @sunwardsss, @outerbanksbro , @collecting-stories , @yelyahryan , @brightcosmos , @ssprayberrythings , @abbiesthings , @sadcupofcoffee , @millenialpoems, @niya-savage , @queenofthepouges , @poguepunk , @perkeusjackson , @fanofmany , @ultradolans , @love-chx , @outerbankslut , @cognacdelights , @alternativehp , @dmonchld , @bricksatanakinswindow

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mymoonagedaydream · 4 years

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Only the Good Die Young (Part 1)

Summary: Coming home from college for the summer, you expected your days to be spent reading in your bedroom and sitting through tense to family dinners- but an old acquaintance had something else in mind for you

Pairing: Biker!Bucky x y/n

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: Language, strong anti-religious sentiment throughout, harmful relationship with parents, irresponsible motorcycle healthy and safety measures, smoking

Author's Note: Something a bit different, why the hell not. This story is based around lyrics from Billy Joel's 'Only the Good Die Young'. What a man.

---

'Y/n! You look… healthy.'

Those were your mother's first words as you walked through the door of your family home. Not saying how pleased she was to see you or asking how your flight was, but commenting on how you looked with her typical passive-aggressive euphemisms.

This was going to be a long summer.

Initially you were adamant about staying at your dorm, even on your own. All you wanted was peace and space. Then your parents threatened to cut you off if you didn't come home, so here you were.

You traipsed upstairs. Approaching your bedroom, you saw the bolt haphazardly screwed to the outside of the door. Your father had installed it when you were twelve, after he caught you watching ‘ungodly’ TV shows in the living room at midnight- Doctor Who.

Your room had been redecorated. It looked fucking dreadful. You glanced up at the wall and a little bit of sick shot up to the back of your mouth when you saw a ‘live, laugh, love’ sticker plastered up there.

A long, long summer.

---

Your first errand was grocery shopping. Wandering around the store, you grabbed everything on the list and headed to the checkout. Through the front window you saw billows of smoke blowing past, but you couldn’t quite see where they were coming from.

As you stepped outside, you looked over to see a pretty big group of guys in leather jackets, most of them with cigarettes on the go. They were gathered around the corner of the building, the one you had to walk past to get home. You kept your head down, gripping your grocery bags tight and passing them as quickly as possible, when you heard one of them pipe up.

'Well holy shit. Y/n?'

You turned towards the voice. James Barnes.

The two of you went to high school together but, apart from the occasional stilted conversation and reluctant group project, you’d never really developed any sort of relationship. Besides, he always hung out with people your mother didn't approve of.

And he was what, now? In a motorcycle gang? Figures.

'Hi James. Good to see you.' You mumbled, breaking stride momentarily. His friends seemed to find that funny.

'People call me Bucky now.'

Nodding feebly, you gave him a polite smile before moving off again. You noticed that your face felt warm and your stomach was involuntarily tensing. Sure, he was much more handsome and charismatic than you remembered, but you had no idea why being in his presence was making you this nervous. You heard approaching footsteps and in a second he was by your side, walking next to you.

'You moving back to town?'

'No, just visiting for the summer.'

‘Are your parents still religious nut-jobs?'

You stopped and snapped your head round, in complete shock at the brazenness of his questioning.

'I'll take that as a yes.’ Without taking his eyes off you he pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, placed one between his lips and lit it. ‘Guessing you won't be having much fun this summer then.'

'Probably not your kind of fun.'

He smirked and stepped towards you. ‘Man, you Catholic girls start much too late.’

‘I don’t think I asked for your opinion, James.’ It came out much softer than you anticipated, barely a mumble. Not the kind of back-off-or-else warning you were aiming for. He was really getting under your skin.

'You didn’t, but I’ll give you another.’

You raised an eyebrow, watching him blow a cloud of smoke out over your head and chuckle at your expression. Against your better judgement, you waited for him to carry on.

‘I'd rather laugh with the sinners than cry with the saints.' He stepped closer again, bringing his lips close to your ear, and whispered. 'Cause the sinners are much more fun.'

---

You dropped the shopping on the counter. The whole way home you hadn’t been able to get James Barnes out of your head, hadn’t been able to stop picturing his smirk or imagining his warm breath tickling your ear.

You wanted to know more about him, and if anyone had information it'd be your mother. She knew everything about everyone in this godforsaken town. Sitting down for dinner, you seized your opportunity.

'I saw James Barnes at the grocery store today.'

She abruptly dropped her knife and it hit her plate with a sharp clang, making you jump.

'You stay away from that boy.' She punctuated the words by pointing her fork at you. 'He's trouble. Him and his gang.'

You hated the way she spoke to you sometimes, like you were a child. You were in your twenties for fuck’s sake.

'He seemed nice enough.'

‘That’s how it starts.’ Your father piped up. ‘Before you know it he’s got you hooked on drugs, living in a trailer, pregnant with his deviant child.’

And that was the end of that conversation.

Being away, you’d almost forgotten how messed up your parents were. It was terrifying to think that you used to be just as bad. They had you completely brainwashed before you left for college and, even now, some of their intrusive religious dogma still lingered in your subconscious.

---

Sunday. The priest was droning on about something but you weren’t concentrating, his dull voice just sounded like a janky old extractor fan whirring behind the altar. You stood, sat, stood, kneeled, sat along with everyone else like sheep being herded, singing and praying whenever prompted. This, every Sunday for ten weeks, was going to be torture.

An hour or so into the service, you felt yourself nodding off. Your shoulders relaxed and your head felt too heavy to be held up by your neck but, just as your eyes started to close, something startled you. Startled the whole congregation. The droning from the altar stopped and heads turned towards the door, where the disturbance was coming from.

It sounded like a shuddering motorbike engine. Then another joined. In a couple of seconds the entire church was filled with an echoing cacophony of backfiring engines.

Someone at the back stood up and ran to the door. There was some shouting and laughing, but the noise eventually moved away, fading into the distance. Looking around, you saw a sea of indignant and sour faces. The tension hovering in the air was palpable.

‘And that,’ your mother hissed through clenched teeth, ‘is why you don’t go near James Barnes and his friends.’

You had to suck in your cheeks to smother your laughter, nodding insincerely at her words. James’ voice echoed in your head…

The sinners are much more fun.

---

A couple days later, one of your old friends invited you to a house party- or ‘board game night’ as you told your parents. Parties were usually a little out of your comfort zone, but you’d do anything to get out of their house for an evening.

Wandering from room to room, you checked if there was anyone else there you recognised. Nope. You skulked to the kitchen and opened a can of diet coke.

There was a hard tap on your shoulder and you turned to see James Barnes’ wide smile.

‘Hey there.’

‘Hi James.’ You muttered, taking a sip of your drink. ‘I heard your little stunt outside the church last week. You make a habit of that?’

‘Nope. Just thought it’d be nice to welcome you home.’

Interesting. That whole thing was for you? Your stomach started to flutter with excitement despite part of your brain screaming that he was probably just mocking you, flirting with you for a bet. To save any potential embarrassment, you went on the defensive.

‘Gee, thanks. Are you and your friends always that obnoxious James?’

‘Ah y’know.’ He leant against the counter, folding his arms, still grinning at you. ‘We might be laughing a bit too loud, but that never hurt no one.’

You raised an eyebrow, feigning disinterest and doing everything you could to keep a lid on how excited his deep chuckles were making you. He bit his lip and your heart felt like it was going to leap out of your chest.

‘And call me Bucky.’ He pushed himself off the counter, disappearing into the crowd.

Hours passed and you eventually realised that you weren’t really having a great time. Everyone around you was borderline hammered but you knew if your parents got a whiff of alcohol you’d be locked inside all summer, so you were stone-cold.

You snuck out the back door, swiftly sliding it shut. Focusing more on what was happening behind you than in front, you managed to unceremoniously trample over someone’s feet.

James, of course it was. Brilliant.

He was leant against the wall, finishing off a cigarette. Chuckling, he held out the pack to you, but you shook your head.

‘Leaving so soon?’ He grunted.

‘Yeah, not really my scene.’

‘Same here. Want to go somewhere else?’ Your heart stuttered at his question. You struggled to form a reply, gazing at him wide-eyed. He smirked and looked away. 'It’s alright, I know the deal. Your mother told you all I could give you was a reputation, right?'

You couldn’t hold back your excited smile anymore and his eyes lit up when he saw it. Shrugging faintly, your mind scurried around trying to find something witty and attractive to say. He dropped his cigarette butt and crushed it under his boot before slowly approaching you. Stopping a couple inches away, he smirked down at your dazed expression.

‘Come out with me tomorrow.’

---

You told your mother that you were having a day at the local library. You weren’t necessarily lying- you had no idea what Bucky had in mind, so anything was a possibility.

He was waiting by the monument in the town centre, like he’d said yesterday.

‘So,’ you said, prompting him to turn towards you and smile, ‘what are we doing?’

He held his elbow out and you snaked your hand through it.

‘You’ll see.’

Much to your surprise, he took you to the fair. You wandered around, hand enclosed in his, talking and laughing for hours. He bought you a hot dog and spent ages trying to win you a stuffed giraffe, but his aim wasn’t great. You couldn’t hold back your laughter after he missed for the fourth time, so he picked you up, swung you around and shouted that he was going to sell you to the carnival.

When both of you were tired and full, he walked you to the park, pulling you down next to him on a bench and wrapping his arm tight around your waist.

‘Thanks Bucky.’ You said faintly.

‘For what?’

‘Didn’t think I’d be having much fun this summer, but I had a really nice time.’

He smirked and scooched even closer to you, his firm thigh pressed against yours and his thumb gently stroking your hip. There was a comfortable silence for a few seconds before he muttered to himself.

‘It ain’t right.’

‘What?’

He sighed, brushing his chin against your hair. ‘Your parents. Catholics, man- they just built you a temple and locked you away. You’ve barely lived.’

‘It’s not all bad.’ You whispered, relaxing your head against his shoulder and angling your face up towards his.

‘Maybe.’ Adjusting himself, he turned towards you and put his free hand under your chin. ‘But that stained-glass never really lets in the sun.’

He pressed his lips against yours. Your stomach flipped. His hand moved from your chin to cradle the side of your neck and his thumb brushed softly across your cheek. He pressed towards you more firmly, sliding his tongue along your lips. He tasted like cigarettes and candy floss. Your knees tensed and your thighs started shaking. He must’ve noticed, because you felt a deep chuckle vibrating into your mouth, but that only made it worse. You melted into him, just about steadying yourself by gripping the lapels of his jacket.

He pulled away, letting your head fall into the crook of his neck, keeping a tight grip on your waist.

‘Not bad for a church girl.’

---

‘What is this?!’ Your mother burst into your room, looking horrified and holding her phone out in front of her.

You squinted at the screen, it was a photo. You and Bucky holding hands at the fair. Shit.

‘Where did you get that?’ You muttered.

‘Angela sent it to me. She saw you there, with him.’

You stood from your bed, ready to plead with her. ‘Look, he’s a nice guy, he’s-’

‘He is a criminal. And if you think you’re seeing him again, you’re wrong.’ She turned and started to storm away.

You felt anger bubbling inside, nothing like you’d ever felt before. Everything Bucky had said, his anger at your parents- he was right. You’d thought about it before, of course you had, but all you’d ever felt was a kind of defeated acceptance. Now, you were pissed.

‘I am not a fucking child.’ You screamed.

She jerked to a stop. Slowly twisting round, you saw her face was filled with venom. ‘We’ll speak again when you’re ready to apologise.’ She hissed, slamming your door behind her. You heard it lock.

Wow, that felt good. Really good. You flopped down onto your bed. Your head was spinning but you were grinning to yourself, still half in disbelief. You’d never stood up to her like that before and you were starting to regret not doing it sooner.

Your phone started buzzing- Bucky.

‘Hi.’ You sighed into it.

‘Come to the window.’

Your gaze darted to the far end of your room and you fumbled off your bed. After briefly scanning the skyline, your eyes flickered down to the backyard lawn. Bucky was standing underneath your window, holding his phone to his ear, beaming up at you.

‘Came to ask if you wanted to come out, figured I probably shouldn’t knock on the front door.’

‘So you break into the garden?’ You chuckled.

He shrugged and flung his free arm out. ‘It’s romantic.’

‘Sure is.’ You grinned down at him before remembering where you were. ‘I can’t Buck. One of my mother’s friends saw us together yesterday. I’m locked in.’

‘Man, you’re living with psychopaths.’ You nodded and gave him a disheartened smile. ‘Look, I know they’re your parents, but you really don’t owe them anything. Especially after everything they’ve done.’

His words echoed around in your head, slowly becoming more convincing as you considered them. Before you could respond, the light from the room below you switched on and Bucky was immediately illuminated with bright yellow light. Without missing a beat, he sprinted towards the fence and vaulted into next door’s garden. You heard a breathy ‘I’ll see you soon babe’ through the phone before he hung up.

Your father ran out of the back door, pretty quickly deciding not to give chase. He looked up at you with anger in his eyes but you didn’t waver. You were already locked in your room for the foreseeable future, what else could he possibly do?

---

He could force you to clean all the floors in the house on your hands and knees, apparently. Scrubbing for hours and hours with him watching over you like a hawk. Your parents had pretty swiftly gone from strict but harmless religious zealots to borderline prison wardens. As soon as he left the room, you pulled your phone out and hammered out a message to Bucky.

Will you come get me? I need out.

You stared at your screen, willing him to reply before your father came back. After what felt like ages, it finally buzzed.

On my way. Pack a bag.

You jumped up from the floor and sprinted up the stairs to your room, grabbing handfuls of whatever you could reach and shoving it into your backpack. You heard your father scurrying around on the ground floor before stomping up the stairs, shouting your name. Before he made it to your room, the faint rumble of a motorbike engine started in the distance and your heart jumped.

Running into the hallway, you pushed past your father without even looking up at him and scrambled down the stairs. You pulled the front door open and a wall of fresh air hit you, allowing you to take your first clean, deep breath of the day. Since you woke up all you’d been doing was huffing floor-cleaning chemicals.

Bucky came round the corner on his bike and you almost felt like bursting into tears. Waves of relief passed through every muscle in your body and you ran down the front steps to meet him.

You leapt on to the back of his bike, still in your pyjamas, and wrapped your arms around his waist as tight as you could. It felt like you were running entirely on adrenaline. Your parents were screaming your name behind you, but they were quickly drowned out by the roaring of the motorbike coming back to life.

‘Shit, I’m not exactly dressed for a ride.’ You mumbled into his ear through your heavy breaths. ‘Don’t even have a helmet.’

You felt him vibrate with laughter as he gunned the engine and sped away.

‘Ah, don’t worry, you’ll be fine darlin.’ He raised his arm and flipped off your parents. ‘Only the good die young.’

---

Part Two

---

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i-will-physically-fight-you · 4 years

Text

Faith, Trust and a Little Bit of Pixie Dust

Title: Faith, Trust and a Little Bit of Pixie Dust

Summary: It’s cold in the cellar, but then if it isn’t cold it’d defeat the whole purpose of a cellar. This coldness had been fine at first, but the longer Logan and his little brother Virgil stay, the more it worsens. Logan just hopes his mother’s temper wears off soon or else the cold could get fatal.

The last thing Logan expects is for his father, who he hasn’t seen in years, to show up through golden portal (a magic portal, which should be impossible!) to save the day as if he hadn’t abandoned them to this fate by leaving all those years ago.

Pairings: Brotherly Analogical, Parental Loceit

Word-Count: 3.3k

Warnings: Magic, Child Abuse, Physical & Emotional Abuse, Unhealthy Romantic Relationship, Hypothermia, Alcohol, Death Mention, Morally Grey Janus, Crying, Angst With a Happy Ending

This fic was at times both frustrating and fun to write. I have no plans to continue this fic, but you can ask me questions regarding the ‘verse and I’ll answer them. Janus has good intentions in this fic he’s just bad at expressing them and we’re also seeing this from Logan’s pov.

It was cold in the cellar. Then again, it would be rather alarming were it the opposite case. Cellars were historically used to store perishable items such as vegetables and meats in a time before refrigerators existed. Still prolonged exposure to such an absence of heat wasn’t good for any human being. Not without proper clothing or heating methods. Something both Logan and his young brother unfortunately lacked.

At first with just a t-shirt and jeans it’d been fine. A bit chilly but fine. What Logan hadn’t accounted for was a cold front to settle in unexpectedly. Within an hour, it dropped by forty degrees. His little brother Virgil wasn’t fond of physical touch. Yet the young child clung to Logan for warmth. It wasn’t enough. His skinny frame still trembled, his lips turning blue. Logan himself felt the effects of his body trying uselessly to warm the cold environment around them. Still his bit his lips from shivering, desperate to attempt staying strong for Virgil.

“I-I-I’m s-s-scared.” Virgil cried, digging his head into Logan’s shirt.

I...I know.” Logan said, stroking his brother’s hair gently, “Things are...things will be alright.”

Logan had repeated this statement many times already to Virgil. Each time he grew less sure of it. However, he knew he had to remain strong for his brother’s sake. Ever since his brother was a baby, Logan had to grow up faster. Much faster than even before. Sometimes he resented this fact, but never for long. It was simply the way things were.

“C-c-c-can you tell me a story?” Virgil asked, and of course Logan obliged. For he knew the unspoken words in that request: I’m still scared. Can you make it less scary?

A story, for both the listener and teller, would be a beneficial distraction. Even though Logan was not a good storyteller. Once he did a short story assignment in middle school and received a C. His heart metaphorically sank at the sight of it and he dreaded going home that day. Virgil always seemed to appreciate his stories. Although praise from a kindergartener wasn’t worth much in the literary world.

Through frozen lips, he told a meandering story to his little brother. Sometimes his brother would ask questions or offer suggestions, abruptly changing the direction of the story. Logan himself barely remembered what it was about. It was as if someone else spoke through him as his mind drifted to other ideas.

It’d been dark for a long, long while. Usually his mother would’ve unlocked the door by now. She’d insist he’d make dinner while complaining of a terrible headache.

It was an unending cycle. His mother would do her best to stay sober and function as an adult for a few weeks. Then her mood would increasingly sour, little things piling up into an avalanche. It was hard to tell at times what would be the trigger. The one thing that made her slam open the alcohol cabinet and drown a whole bottle of vodka.

She wasn’t a nice person when drunk; hence the whole being-locked-in-the-cellar. Eventually after a few days of heavy drinking, his mother would come to her senses. She’d lock the alcohol cabinet and claim she’d never drink again. A lie nobody believed but herself.

Perhaps the lie was done in good intentions. His mother always insisted she cared for her children, in ways their father never could.

“He’s a snake, Logan,” She hissed once, banging her beer heavily onto a coaster, “A dirty, no-good deceiving snake.”

Logan said nothing. He had only a few memories of the man. Once, when Logan was nine years old, he showed up on their doorstep. He held a bouquet of roses for Mother and a much belated birthday present for Logan. It’d been one of the happiest he’d seen Mother. He stayed with them for a few days. He listened to Logan, complimenting him on his extensive knowledge about dinosaurs. The three of them went to a carnival together. For a fleeting moment, Logan had what the others kids at his school had; a family.

Then it ended with tears, arguing, door slams. Mother yanking him by the arm and leaving everything behind. Nine months later, Virgil was born. His father wasn’t there. Nor did he ever show his face again. A bitter, festering part of Logan despised him for that.

Mother acted like she cared at times. She’d purchase Virgil and Logan expensive gifts. Things she couldn’t afford without a credit card. She treated them to ice cream and insisted on giving them hugs. She never understood that Virgil found tactical touch without permission distressing. She’d brush it off, making remarks he simply needed to get used to it.

At times Logan allowed himself to pretend these niceties would last. He pretended his mother was a flawed human being who mostly did good by her children. He pretended the slapping and hair-pulling didn’t exist, that the cellar was just a cellar and not a place to fear. It was hard to pretend these things were true, when the reality became increasingly harder to ignore.

Virgil fell asleep in the midst of this. Logan hadn’t realized this at first. His tired mind plunged on, continuing the nonsensical story.

“Then Batsy the Bat escaped the Witch’s dungeon. He flew as fast he could, to warn his friends...ah. Virgil what do you think their names should be?” Logan squinted, the dim light making it hard to see if his brother’s eyes were closed or not, “Virgil?”

His brother slumped against him, his breaths long and labored. Logan frowned, shaking his shoulder, “Virgil?!”

Virgil made a grumbling noise, “What?”

“You need to stay awake. You--you can’t fall asleep right now.”

“I’m tireeeed,” Virgil complained.

“I--I know, but please. It--it isn’t good to sleep right now.”

“Why?”

Logan’s throat constricted, “Be--because well. I haven’t finished the story yet.”

It was a lie. The truth was that sleeping could be a dangerous thing for a hypothermia victim. Sleeping could lead to death. He couldn’t tell his brother that. He refused to let Virgil experience more fright than he already had in his short life.

“Okaaay.” Virgil said.

Logan continued with the story, pulling all his concentration into it. Yet it wasn’t enough to keep Virgil awake. He kept drifting off, unable to keep his eyes open. At one point his brother down crying.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” He sobbed, repeating the words over and over.

“It’s alright, you’re okay, everything is gonna be--gonna be,” Logan stammered, struggling to force the word out, “okay.”

It was then that Logan knew they couldn’t remain in the cellar any longer. He’d have to overcome his one true fear for the sake of their safety and survival. What he feared even more than his mother, was losing Virgil. Logan was smart. He knew the odds of a kindergartener and a high school sophomore staying together in the foster system was slim.

He had been selfish to allow his mother to continue tormenting Virgil. It was wrong. Now both him and his brother were paying for it.

Logan could fix this. He just had to pull out his phone and call emergency services. He had to call and resist his foolish fears of his mother and separation from his brother. With one arm still tucked around his brother, he pulled the phone out of his pocket. A battered, beaten thing he’d purchased with his first paycheck. His mother was completely unaware of its existence.

He pressed the power button on as he gathered up the courage to call. Except the screen remained completely blank. He pressed it again, this time harder, hoping it’d been a fluke. It wasn’t. Again and again, he kept pressing the button, irrationally hoping for a different result.

“No,” Logan swallowed heavily, “no, no, no this cannot be happening--” “Logey?” Virgil hiccuped, his big glassy eyes staring up as his older brother with concern.

“It’s okay, Virgil,” Logan murmured, “It’s okay, It’ll be okay--”

He couldn’t say the words any longer. Not when a sob wracked his throat, his vision turning hazy with tears. He couldn’t be strong any longer. He was weak. His heart beat faster, the chasm in his stomach deepening. His little brother said something, but he couldn’t hear it. All he heard was his mind mocking his failure. Shrill and scorching like his mother.

StUpID DiD yOU ThINK ThAT wAS GOING TO WORK?

You and your little brother are going to die and it’s all yOUR FAuLt

UsEleSS

Not EVEn YoUR OwN FATHER WAntED YOU--

“Hello? Whoever is contacting me at this hour better not have a good reason.”

Logan’s thoughts jolted to a halt. What? He glanced down at his phone, but it was still battered and dead. Virgil looked just as confused and lost as he felt. He hid his face in Logan’s shirt, whimpering softly.

“Who...are you?” Logan croaked, doing a poor disguise of covering up his breakdown moments before.

“I think that is perhaps a question I should be asking you.” The strange voice replied. It was definitely emanating from the phone, but how Logan had no clue. It made no logical sense.

“I--I don’t know.”

“You don’t know your name?”

“No! I mean of course I know my name! I mean, you can’t be real--I must be hallucinating.”

“Oh?” The voice responded with a touch of some unidentifiable emotion, “this must be your first time then.”

“First time what?” Logan snapped, a headache starting to take form. He regretted raising his voice when Virgil let out a cry. He murmured a soft apology to him, attempting to ignore how cold his brother felt.

“Is there someone else with you?”

“No,” Logan said, before hesitating, “I mean perhaps.”

“Perhaps?”

“You still haven’t responded to my question from before.”

“Let me broker a deal then. I’ll answer your question, if you tell me who you and your companion are.”

“Okay,” Logan shakes his head, wanting to laugh hysterically. What in Newton’s three laws of gravity was going on? Surely, he died. He died and this was some last minutes of brain activity occurring. Scientists after all, know very little what happens in one’s last moments of life. Nothing could quite prepare him for the answer the voice gave him, however.

“Well then, to quote a popular misguided piece of media, ‘you’re a wizard, Harry!’” The voice said, the verbal jazz hands evident in the voice’s dripping, dry wit. Something about it was painfully familiar.

“What.”

“You asked, I answered,” The voice chuckled, “now it’s your turn.”

“My--my name is Logan,” He said, blinking rapidly, “and my little brother..ahhh...oh! Vi-Virgil is here with me.”

“Logan, that’s your name? You’re sure?”

Logan frowned at that. Of course he was sure. Or was he? It was getting rather harder to focus. Or to breathe even. The crisp cold air hurt his lungs. Virgil slumped heavily against him, complete dead weight in his unconsciousness. Oh. That was bad. He knew that was bad.

“Logan?!” The voice yelled. Hmm, it sounded like they’ve been yelling at him for awhile now. He should acknowledge them. He nodded before pausing. Wait. He needed to respond verbally.

“Y-yes?”

“Finally. You seem like you’re doing absolutely fantastic,” The voice told him.

“Do I?” Logan asked, “I do not think I’m doing ‘fantastic’.”

“Where are you?”

Logan rattled off the address. Then he very casually added, “We’re locked in the cellar.”

“WHAT?!”

“It’s-s-s-s a punishment,” Logan shivered, his eyelids drooping against his will, “it’sssokay.”

“Yes, because all parenting books recommend disciplining your children by locking them in a cellar.” Maybe it was just Logan, but he got the impression the voice was being sarcastic.

“I need to cut the invocation call. I’ll be there soon.”

“Wh--how-hy?” Logan said, trying to speak three words at once. The voice didn’t respond. He tried shaking his battered phone as if that would do anything. It did not do anything.

The air frizzled in front of Logan. A golden spark appeared, expanding until it was one big golden shimmery oval. Logan stared at it, blinking rapidly. This was absurd. He most definitely had to be hallucinating. The golden oval ripples as a black fedora emerged from it, followed by a face and then a whole body.

“F--father?” Logan managed.

The man before him was older and dressed in strange clothing. Slivers of silver hair poked out from his hat, nestled among the chestnut hair. An unfamiliar gruesome scar ran alongside the left side of his face. But he recognized those hazel eyes anywhere. He stared at them at the mirror every morning.

He didn’t respond to Logan. He took a few steps before collapsing beside the huddled forms of Logan and Virgil. His gloved hands reached out, but he did not touch them. His mouth opened, but no sound came out of him. Then his gloves covered his face as he inhaled deeply. He removed them from his face, his expression carefully blank.

“I’m here.” He told Logan, extending a hand towards him, “and I won’t leave you or your brother this time.”

Logan stared at the yellow gloved hand before sluggishly panning his gaze up at his father. He didn’t know if he could trust him, let alone if he could trust that this was reality. But god, he wanted it to be real.

So cradling Virgil close to his chest with one arm, he took hold of his father’s hand. And then, with a bright flash of light, the cellar was empty.

Logan felt warm. A drizzling, dribbling, dripping like maple syrup down a fresh stack of buttermilk pancakes type of warmth. He should be alarmed by this for some reason, but he couldn’t find it in himself to be. Instead he made a contented noise, shifting closer to it. Someone chuckled, running a calloused hand through his hair. Logan stilled at the touch, the warmth evaporating from his veins. He waited for the fingers to grow taunt around a tuft of hair. For the harsh cacophony of his mother’s voice to rain down on him like hail. Nothing.

“Are you asleep, Little Tesla?”

The air in his lungs evaporated. Only one person had called him that and it certainly wasn’t his mother. As much as she expected him to receive good grades, she hadn’t been one to nurture his interests in 20th century scientists.

“Father?” Logan whispered.

“I’m here, I didn’t leave, just like I said I would.”

He opened his eyes to find his father was indeed there. Sitting on a wooden chair with sunken eyes as if he’d been awake for hours. Logan laid on a bed with silky sheets and an impossibly warm comforter. He had just barely enough to cover him--most of the blankets had been stolen by another small figure. Virgil. His little baby brother was with him, asleep and curled up in a small ball.

“Wha--” Logan started to say, until everything hit him. The cellar. The strange bodiless voice. The gleaming gold portal. Father. Darkness.

“Yes, yes, I know it’s not at all a lot to take in, but you have magic. And you found me again, just like I’d hope you would.”

“Found you?” Logan asked, a hardness to his tone, “Assuming this isn’t a hallucination, you left me with h-her, you never came back and suddenly because I possess magic, I’m what? Worth something?”

“Yes, no!” His father cried out with a frustrated growl, “Listen, Logan. My relationship with your mother was extremely healthy, as I’m sure you can agree. Not unhealthy in the slightest. When it ended, your mother left a lovely parting gift.”

Here, he rubs a hand against the facial scar almost absent-mindedly, “I wanted to find you, I searched everywhere, but your mother is smart and covers her tracks well. I’m...sorry I couldn’t find you or your brother sooner. You’re important to me, magic or no magic.”

“How can I trust you?” Logan asked, “How can I trust that you’re not anything like her?”

He expected his father to be upset by the accusation, but instead he just smirked.

“You’re good to be suspicious. It’s a good trait, don’t ever lose it,” He said, adjusting his gloves, “I can tell you, that I will not harm you or your brother. I can say I will teach you magic, if you desire. I can let you know that I will let you walk out the door with your brother, and you won’t ever have to see me or your mother again. But you have no true way of trusting a man that has, from what you know, abandoned you completely until just now.

“You have two options. Either accept you cannot completely trust what I say is true and proceed with caution, or you can leave with your brother, find a way to support the two of you. You’re smart, Logan. I trust you could figure it out.”

Logan swallowed. He was indeed smart--or knowledgeable enough to know there was little choice in the matter. He was just fifteen. He can’t support Virgil and him--not legally anyway. It’d be difficult to cover it up. Child Protection Services would be on them in a matter of weeks, if not days.

Good case scenario, they stayed together in the foster system. Bad case scenario, they ended up separated. Worst case scenario? They ended up back at their mother’s, because they don’t believe either of Logan’s or Virgil’s claims and the cycle continues without end.

So, his father. He was the only option, and he knew it. As much bitterness as Logan held for the man, there’s also yearning in equal spades. He used to spend nights crying for him with his mother yelling at him to shut up. Sometimes she’d beat him for it, telling him his father was never coming back. Then he’d snap back that she was wrong and he’d prove Logan right by coming back. Until little by little, he stopped.

He couldn’t trust his father, the man even admitted it. He just had to hope it’d be better, even though apparently the man believed in magic. Logan was doing his best at the moment to deny it existed. It couldn’t exist, last night had to be a fluke of some sort and even if it wasn’t, it was too much for him to focus on at the moment.

“As long as I have your word that you won’t intentionally hurt Virgil and I, we will stay with you.” Logan says, before offering his hand towards his father.

Father took a look at the extended hand, eyes softening, before clasping it, “You have my word, Logan, that I will not harm you or Virgil as long as you remain in my care.”

They shook on it. Logan let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in and then--and then, his vision blurred. A sob and then another erupted until he clenched his teeth, holding the rest back. For the second time within twenty-four hours he had shown weakness. First to his brother and now, now to his father who above all he should show no signs to. But like that creative writing assignment in the 8th grade, he completely failed.

Somehow halfway the handshake got turned into an embrace. His father hugged him, a calloused hand softly carding through his hair once more.

“Shh, Logan, you’ve been so strong, stronger than most. You won’t have to be strong alone any longer. Let it all out.”

Logan didn’t know what to think of his father’s words. It wasn’t like a set of logical propositions or a step-by-step formula for science. He couldn’t know for certain if they were genuine. But in this moment, he was but a little boy with his father back. So he dug his head into his father’s chest and finally cried. His father, in turn, did not berate or beat him for it. Instead, he held onto his son as he whispered reassurances all the while.

#thomas sanders #sanders sides #logan sanders #janus sanders #virgil sanders #kat writes

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koreaweeb · 3 years

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Marionette - Beach Arrival (1)

TW: SWEARING, VIOLENCE, SEXUAL VIOLENCE, SEXUAL CONTENT

Chuya Kurenai - Day 5 of Sojourn

Sat at one end of the dining table, Kurenai opened her eyes to find that she was bound at her wrists and ankles to the chair. It did not matter how much she struggled, her attempts to escape were futile.

On the other end of the table was a familiar face. A face she had hated all her life.

Looking around for something that could free her, she froze when she looked above her. What looked like a large blade was hanging so precariously from the ceiling, swaying ever so slightly. There was no doubt she would die the moment it fell.

“Welcome to Borderland. This is a simple game of choice, only one may survive. Player Chuya Atsushi must make a choice between his children.”

Stood on top of the dining table was her father, holding a rope in each hand. All he had to do was let go and that would be the end of either of them.

She kept struggling, the ropes cutting through her skin from how much they were rubbing. She tried to scream too, to plead with her father but no matter how hard she tried, no sound came out. Not even a squeak.

He did not look at her once, not a single glance, when he let go of the rope attached to the blade above her. He chose her brother. It had always been her brother.

Waking up abruptly from her nightmare, Kurenai found herself breathing hard. She looked down at her wrists, rubbing her thumb against her skin. It was just a dream but she could vividly feel the pain of the ropes cutting into her. She could still feel the pain now. What hurt more, however, was the fact that even in her own dream, her father chose her brother over her.

She let out a sigh, closing her eyes and taking in a deep breath to calm herself.

Was her dream trying to tell her something?

That she would never be able to cut the strings her father had attached to her? That if she were to cut those strings, it would mean the end for her?

PAK!

With a hard slap to her cheek, Kurenai stopped herself from spiralling.

Borderland was an unforgiving place, one mistake and she could be losing her life. She had no time to be thinking ‘what ifs’. Her only goal now was to return to the real world, so she could exact her revenge on her father. Every day she spent in Borderland, was another day he was winning.

Sitting up on the mattress, Kurenai let out a soft groan as she stretched her arms up in the air. She found herself a little home in the furniture store, in a shopping mall. While she loved a little shopping spree every so often, it was extremely eerie when the mall was abandoned and empty of shoppers.

As she got out of the bed, she adjusted her dress before frowning. It was crinkled from all the game activities and sleeping in it for several days. Time to go shopping.

The clicking of her heels echoed around the entire mall, coupled with her soft singing, it was almost as if she was in a horror movie.

With a few items on her arm, she went into a changing room to try the clothes on. She decided on a red A-line dress while holding onto several more outfits. Although she liked to look good, after the five of Spades game, practicality seemed to be more important. She even went to the shoe store and picked out a pair of comfortable sneakers. She kept her Louboutin still, she was not about to part with them.

Grabbing a backpack along the way, Kurenai was now ready to go on her way.

Before leaving the mall, she headed to the information desk and searched around. In the drawer of the desk was a stack of what she was looking for: a map of Tokyo. Shopping malls tend to have information pamphlets for tourists, whether it was for attractions or a map of the city. She picked up a map, browsing the area.

Right now, her main problem was finding food and water, which she did not have much of.

Carefully looking through the areas, she suddenly remembered something.

Maybe when we meet, it’ll be at the beach.

That was what Chishiya said to her last night.

Under normal circumstances, she would have dismissed this simple statement. But they were not under normal circumstances. Anything and everything one would see or hear around this place could potentially be life saving.

Still, she was skeptical about trusting Chishiya.

Though as she was studying the map, she found herself looking at beaches around Tokyo. None of them were close enough, and if she was being honest, Kurenai was hoping to avoid any kind of physical activity. If she were to participate in games, it was better to conserve her energy.

Just as she was about to fold the map up, one particular place caught her attention. It was not too far from where she was, if she decided to explore.

Could this be the place?

So this is how the top 1% lived.

After spending forty-five minutes trekking through a seemingly empty Tokyo, Kurenai finally found it: Tama Pacific Beach Resort Hotel. On her way here, she had been doubting the place but now that she was just standing just across the river looking at the hotel, there was no doubt.

Most activities seemed to be happening by the pool, where there was a DJ blasting music through the speakers while girls were parading about in their bikinis. The contrast was stark, between the bubble within this hotel and the rest of Tokyo. Almost as if there were no games of life and death going on every night.

As she was still processing the information, an arm snaked around her waist when she was suddenly grabbed and a hand was placed around her mouth. Struggling out of instincts, it seemed pointless as she was being dragged away.

She really got herself in trouble this time.

Next thing she knew, she was put in a chair, surrounded by strangers in the room with an eccentric man’s face just inches away from hers. She could smell the alcohol on him, and see the crazy in his eyes. Just what did she get herself into?

“How many times do I have to tell you to treat the ladies with respect, Niragi?” the man hummed, never taking his eyes off Kurenai. She did not back down either, staring straight into his eyes. “Interesting…”

“I don’t take orders from you,” another man answered.

“Anyway! Welcome to utopia, my pretty! Welcome to the Beach! We have the answer you seek for!”

Answer?

So they held the key on how to return to the real world?

“And who are you for me to trust?”

“I’m the number one around here, I’m the Hatter. These are my executives who help keep order here at the Beach. Who might you be, pretty?”

“I prefer not to say.”

Someone suddenly yanked her by the hair, jerking her head back. She was looking into another pair of eyes, a very dangerous pair of eyes. If she were to stay here, she would have to take note to avoid this man. The man called Niragi.

“Don’t play games with us, little girl. You won’t come out winning.”

“Now, now,” Hatter said, shooing the man away. “I told you to be gentle. We are a community here at the Beach, building a utopia and working towards a goal together. We won’t want to scare people away. Come on now, pretty, just tell me. We’re not your enemies here.”

“Chuya Kurenai.”

The hatter’s eyes widened.

“Chuya? As in the Chuya Group? That Chuya? Please tell me you are that Chuya!”

Even in Borderland, the Chuya name prevailed.

The Chuya’s were one of the bluest and oldest blood in Japan, and they were a household name. While the Chuya Group was known for their real estates, they were involved in almost everything from politics to entertainment. If one were to carry the Chuya name, or marry into the family, they were set for life.

In a place like Borderland, however, what good would her name serve?

She still had to participate in games. Her life was still on the line every time she entered a game. If her visa were to expire, it would not extend just because she was a Chuya.

“Well Miss Chuya, we welcome you with open arms.” Beckoning one of the others, the Hatter was handed something and he put it on Kurenai’s wrist: a key with the number 70 on it. “Now, let me tell you the rules here at the Beach. We only have three. First of all, since we’re at the Beach, swimwear is required. Makes sense, doesn’t it?”

Once again, at his signal, the others moved and pulled back the moving wall to reveal another room. It was, however, what was on the wall in that room that interested Kurenai.

The entire wall was covered in graffiti. Not just any graffiti but the entire deck of playing cards drawn crudely with a few crossed out.

“This is the answer, Miss Chuya. The one and only method to leave Borderland.”

A smirk crept onto her face. She was right. By her second card, Kurenai guessed that the objective of these games was to collect the cards. Otherwise there was no point in issuing the cards after each game. Still, it was a cruel objective. Did they really expect one person to collect all fifty-two?

“By collecting each and every card, one individual will be chosen to leave Borderland,” Hatter said.

Her smirk was now replaced with a frown.

Only one individual would leave when all cards were collected? Was that why the Beach was formed? A large group would collect more cards and duplicates could be used for the next person in line.

She looked down at the key on her wrist and scoffed. The number 70 was really mocking her right now.

“Which brings us to the second rule here at the Beach,” the Hatter smiled, putting his hands on either side of the chair and leaned close to Kurenai. All cards must be handed over. We are a collective after all, any and every card you own will be contributed to the Beach.

“I know it seems unfair that your number is lower and you have to wait around longer before you leave but we can’t help that you’re a new member here. However! Members die every night in games, so naturally you will be promoted. And what if you contribute more cards than a person higher in rank? Or...what if your card is one that we need? Well, my pretty, then you will be promoted to a higher rank. Fair, right?”

“Oh? In that case, you will most definitely promote me,” Kurenai smiled. “Not only will you promote me, you will make me an executive too.”

#marionette ch 7 #chishiya #chishiya shuntaro #chishiya x oc #aib #alice in borderland #imawa no kuni no alice #imawa no kuni no arisu

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apoguecalledjj · 4 years

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Emetophobia

I know emetophobia (fear of vomiting) isn't an issue that many people face, so I expect it to not get many notes because it isn't as relatable, but I still want to write it. My severe emetophobia is something I used to be embarrassed of, and I'm finally comfortable talking about it openly and want to share that in my writing. I've been planning this piece for a while but was unsure of writing it, but I've decided to go ahead with it anyways. if you do experience emetophobia, know that you're not alone. I thought for a long time that I was the only person on this planet who felt this way, but that's not true. This piece will be based heavily on my own experiences, so anyone that chooses to read it will get some insight on what it is like :)

Summary: You deal with a fear that none of the pogues, including your boyfriend, JJ, know about.

Word count: 1812

Pairing: JJ x reader

Warnings: Vomiting, talks of vomiting, talks of emetophobia triggers

Requested: No

You had only known the pogues for 6 months, and had been dating JJ for 4, but you could easily say that the four pogues and Sarah Cameron were your best friends. They knew you better than you knew yourself.

There was just one thing they didn’t know: Your crippling fear of throwing up. You had been officially diagnosed with anxiety and emetophobia two years ago, and months of therapists and councillors done little to help you. You wanted to tell the pogues, tell them your explanation behind all your weird habits, but your family had reacted poorly when you told them and you were terrified they would react the same way.

JJ was the first to notice your weird little habits. How you briefly paused whenever walking into a new place, causing you to fall slightly behind and tug his hand gently that you were always holding. The truth was you were looking for the bathrooms, or a trashcan even, just in case, but you told JJ you were just taking in the new surroundings. He had accepted that, smiling at you and giving you a quick kiss before moving on.

How you constantly used hand sanitizer, even if you weren’t eating. You told him it was just a habit you had learned from your mom, and he just shrugged, but from that day forward anytime he seen hand sanitizer in a store he bought it for you.

How you glanced away whenever one of the pogues had a hangover. Squeezing your eyes shut, even somehow going as far as covering your ears. JJ didn’t understand, but he always let you bury your face in his chest.

Of course, there were instances that were more than just ‘little habits’. The times you were convinced you would have to explain to your friends the battle you were constantly having with yourself. But every, single time you managed to weasel your way out of an explanation.

~~~

“Are you drinking tonight, Y/N?” John B asked as him and Pope lugged the keg down to the beach. JJ stood next to you, and threw an arm over your shoulder. You felt your heart flutter, you had known this boy less than a month and he was already stealing your heart. But your stomach fluttered too, and not because of JJ, instead due to the fact you had to lie once again.

This was only the pogues third party since you joined the group, and the first it was easy enough to make up an excuse. The second they pushed a little harder, so you were unsure of what would happen tonight.

“Of course she’s drinking! We’re gonna have a good time tonight, right Y/N?” JJ said, a little too loudly.

You just shrugged. “I don’t think so guys. I gotta wake up early tomorrow.” Lies. You just didn’t want to risk a hangover.

“Oh come on! Just a couple drinks won’t hurt.” John B nagged, placing the keg down a few feet away from you and immediately grabbing some beer. “How can you have fun when you’re sober all the time?”

You tensed slightly and JJ noticed, rubbing your shoulder slowly. “I have plenty of fun sober,” You defended. “I just don’t feel like drinking.”

John B opened his mouth to say something else, but JJ cut him off. “She said she’s not drinking, John B. Drop it.” His aggressive tone shocked the brunet boy, and John B just nodded and walked away.

JJ turned you to face him, rubbing your shoulders to try and help you relax. He could see the imprints where you had been biting your lip. “Are you okay?” He asked, looking closely at you to make sure everything was good.

You nodded, and smiled at him. “Yeah JJ, thanks for that.”

“Of course.” He pulled you in tight for a hug, before pulling back. “Any reason you don’t like alcohol?”

Your smile faltered at the question. “Oh, uh... I just don’t enjoy it.”

JJ knew that wasn’t the truth but didn’t push it. Instead, he just grabbed your hand and pulled you towards the others, because even though you weren’t getting drunk, he definitely was.

~~~

The six of you stood on the dock, staring at the HMS Pogue. It was the day after a storm, and the wind had yet to fully die out, making the water rough. The pogues deemed it a perfect day for fishing.

While the others excitedly chattered and got their gear ready, you wandered off to the side, staring out at the rough waters. There was no way you’d get on that boat today, and risk getting seasick. Even though you spent a fair bit of your life out in boat, and you had never got seasick.

The possibility was still there, and you weren’t about to take that chance.

JJ noticed you stood alone and wandered over to where you nervously glanced out at the waves. He pulled you into him, wrapping both his arms around you and pressing a quick kiss to the top of your head. “You okay?”

You weren’t entirely sure what you and JJ were, but the relationship you two had had definitely evolved from friends. There was a lot of flirting, and cuddling, and kissing.

“I don’t think I can go out today,” You whispered, your voice a little shaky.

“Why? Is it because of the wind?” He looked at you, his face full of concern, he could tell you were uneasy just by looking at you.

“Yeah. I don’t want to go out in the wind.” It wasn’t entirely a lie. “But you still go, okay? I’ll wait here.”

JJ looked unsure for a moment, his eyes studying you as he tried to figure out the deeper problem. He knew there was something you weren’t telling him, but he never wanted to push you. So he was patient, something JJ never thought was possible.

Eventually, he nodded and pressed a quick kiss to your lips before running off to the rest of the pogues. You sat on the dock, your hair blowing in the wind as you waited for them to return.

~~~

“Hey, I got crab! Quite the deal for it too!” JJ shouted as he walked into the chateau. He plopped a bucket down in front of you guys, and sure enough, there was a few crabs inside.

It didn’t take long for the pogues to jump up, excited for the seafood that was too expensive to have often. Once it was prepared, the five of your friends immediately dug in.

Except all you could think about was the last time your family had crab, and how your father had got food poisoning. Over and over again, the thought of getting sick from the seafood ran through your head.

“You can have my share, JJ,” You muttered, even though the others seemed to be enjoying it. You loved crab.

“Why baby?” JJ looked at you with concern, remembering how excited you got the last time you had it.

“Just not in the mood.” You looked anywhere but his eyes, not wanting him to see past your mask.

But that means you also didn’t see the worry in his eyes, as he tried to figure out what you were hiding.

~~~

You sat up abruptly in bed, your sleep disturbed by the dreaded feeling in your stomach. You knew exactly what it was. Five days ago, Sarah was missing from your daily adventures. She had a stomach bug. Then, of course John B caught it.

And you and JJ were staying at the chateau. You knew it was a bad idea, but JJ wanted you to stay so bad and he didn’t know about your fear. You didn’t know how to say no. You had been so careful.

Tears brimmed in your eyes as you rummaged through the nightstand for the anti-nauseant you always put there, but this was the one night you forgot them. Your hands started to shake, then your body as you felt the bile rising in your throat.

Swallow.

Rise.

Swallow.

JJ felt your shaking and woke up, sitting up so that he was next to you. “Baby?” He wrapped his arms around you gently. “What’s wrong?”

Your breathing was heavy, your body fighting to keep down what was also fighting to come up. There was no hiding it from him anymore. “I caught the stomach bug.” You croaked out, your voice barely working anymore.

JJ relaxed. “Oh that’s okay baby. I figured we’d all get it eventually. Go to the bathroom.” He started to lie back down, ready for sleep to consume him again, but quickly sat back up as he heard you whimper.

“No JJ I-” Swallow. “I have emetephobia. I’m-” Swallow. “I’m scared of throwing up.”

He quickly thought back, all those weird little habits, excuses you made for not drinking, everything. He didn’t understand the fear, but he could feel how serious it was just by your reaction. The sobs coming out of you made his heart break.

“Okay, sweetheart, it’s gonna be okay. Let’s get you to the bathroom okay?” You were too focused on the nausea to react, so he picked you up and brought you in to the bathroom, resting you down gently by the toilet.

He sat down next to you and slowly started rubbing your back. “Okay, I know it’s scary, but the quicker it’s over with the quicker you’ll feel better. It’s okay. I’m right here. You’re okay.”

He didn’t leave your side once, constantly rubbing your back and holding your hair back once you finally stopped fighting it. You collapsed into his arms, ,exhausted and trying to slow down your breathing.

“I’m gonna go get you some pills, okay? Can you brush your teeth?” JJ stood, pulling you up with him. You nodded and he left, coming back a few minutes later with the pills you had been searching for earlier.

He handed them to you, along with a glass of water, and lead you to the bed.

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” He asked, pulling you in tight to his chest and stroking your hair.

“People normally judge me. They think it’s weird. I didn’t- I didn’t want you to think I was weird.”

“It’s not weird baby. It’s okay. I wanna help you. I’m never gonna ask you to drink with us again.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead, even though it was sweaty. “Are you okay?”

“I think so,” You whispered into his chest, the feeling of his fingers laced through your hair calming you down. “Thank you.”

“I love you sweetheart. Try to get some sleep.” JJ pulled you in close and you felt yourself drifting off, tight in the arms of the boy who would always be there for you, no matter what.

#outer banks #outer banks fic #outer banks one shot #outer banks imagine #obx #obx fic #obx netflix #obx imagine #obx one shot #jj #jj maybank fic #jj maybank #jj maybank one shot #jj maybank imagine #outer banks jj maybank #jj x reader #jj maybank x reader #emetophobia

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athenagc94 · 3 years

Text

Just One Thing

With Beta Sandrock keys out, I’m back on my MTAP nonsense. Please, allow me to introduce my next builder - Eden King! Originally, I was gunning to have her marry Dr. Xu, but Oaks kind of snuck up on me and now, here we are. I hope you enjoy. You can also read it here on AO3

~~~~~~~

“When was the last time you had a full night’s sleep?”

Eden didn’t even look up from the monitor as she casually shot back, “When’s the last time you had a full night’s sleep?”

Petra huffed. “Don’t turn the tables on me. I asked you first.” She tried to sound irritated, but Eden heard the smile in her voice. She knew her sleep schedule was as fucked as hers, so kettle meet the pot. She had no right to lecture her. When she didn’t respond, Petra continued, “Why don’t you head out for the night? You’ve already done more than enough and I don’t mind finishing things up.”

“I like helping you.” Eden pressed a few keys on the pad in front of her. “It’s nostalgic, or whatever.”

She hit the enter key and a string of code appeared on the screen. She scrutinized it for patterns, then from those patterns, she picked out the irregularities and jotted them down on her notepad. Hopefully, they’d find something a little more useful this time around. The cooking mechanism they stumbled across last time was nice and all, but if she had to rely on her crumbling furnace for much longer, she was going to yank her hair out. This builder gig was supposed to be easier than her job back in Vega 5, but she might have made a marginal error when she drew that conclusion. Her father's old diagrams left a lot to be desired.

“You came to Portia to recover from your burnout,” she chided, jostling the back of her chair. Eden cut her with a glare, but it lacked its usual sting. “Old tech research isn’t your job anymore.”

“Old habits die hard,” she mumbled. “And then you die.”

“That’s exactly what I’m talking about.” Petra tugged at her chair, pulling her just out of arm’s reach of the keypad. She almost clamored after it, but she resisted that overwhelming urge in favor of preserving some small part of her dignity. “Go home. Or am I going to have to get Phyllis on your ass?”

Eden pouted. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me,” she said, chuckling. “I can literally see the tension building around your shoulders. We both know Phyllis would love to get her hands on you for an acupuncture session.” Eden tried and failed to suppress the paralyzing fear that curled up her spine, stacking right on top of that rock hard stress that had settled in her shoulders. She liked to think she was a practical woman who trusted a vast majority of the advancements in medical sciences. And research did show that acupuncture has a positive impact on things like stress and anxiety ー both things she definitely suffered from.

That being said, fuck needles.

Petra smirked, reading her mind. “Exactly,” she snapped. “So, if you don’t want her using you as a living pin cushion, get out of here. Take the long way home. Get some fresh air. Something to unwind a little so she doesn’t have a reason to.”

“Why do you always have to be right?” Eden sighed, pushing herself out of her chair. She stretched her arms over her head, groaning as her back cracked and popped. “Can’t you just let me self-destruct in peace?”

“It’s part of my job to preserve the relic tech of the Free Cities.” Eden flipped her off and she laughed, a soft sound that reminded her of windchimes. She plopped down in her chair and turned back to the computer, picking up where Eden had left off. “I’ll let you know when I find something on these disks. A couple of days at most. So, I don’t want to see you before then unless it’s over a drink at the Round Table.”

Eden rolled her eyes. “How does Friday sound?”

“Only if you’re buying.”

“Of course,” Eden said as she shrugged on her cardigan. “It’s always on me, isn’t it?”

“Well, you’ve been threatening to get that new shop addition for months now. I think you’re purposely spending all your money on alcohol, so you don’t have to pull the trigger on it,” Petra shot back. She fluttered her lashes at her and quickly added, “I’m merely giving you an excuse to hold off on it for a while longer. That’s all.”

“I’m not afraid to pull the trigger on it,” she countered defensively, pulling the dark knit fabric a little more tightly around her shoulders. “It’s just, you know, this whole thing is only a temporary position. I plan on going back to Vega 5 once I’veー”

“Once the year is up. Yeah, I know what a sabbatical is.”

“Exactly,” Eden said, pulling the door open. The brisk spring air whipped up around her, rustling the dark curls around her jaw. She shivered and closed it a little to stave off the chill. “This is just a little vacation, I’ll be heading right back to continue my ongoing research with the Alliance by next spring. Portia is merely a stepping stone in my ten year plan.”

“That’s what I thought too when I took my internship out here, but here I am, three years later,” Petra said, with a wink. “You’ve only been a few months, but you’ll be surprised to see how quickly Portia grows on you. You’ll see.”

“Whatever you say. I’ll see you later this week.” She threw Portia a mock salute and ducked out into the Central Plaza.

The sun had long since set and if the clock on the old school building was correct (And it should be, she fixed it herself.) then it was far later than she realized. She regarded the stars that dotted the sky. The moon wasn’t out that evening, which only made the stars shine even more brightly in the sky. She smiled to herself. Maybe she would take Petra’s advice and go on a late night stroll ー just because it was such a beautiful night and not because she needed to unwind.

She rubbed her hands together, trying to warm them as she strolled out the city gates. The apple trees that grew along the path outside the city had started to bud with small white flowers, ready to bloom any day now. They filled the air with a sweet scent that reminded her of freshly baked apple pie. Eden stopped in the middle of the trail and took a deep breath. A ghost of a smile tugged at her lips as she basked in the smell and let the wind rustle her hair.

“What’re ya doin?”

Eden started, pressing a palm flat over her heart. It hammered so violently that she feared it would beat straight out of her chest. She glanced up only to find Oaks, the city vagabond, hanging precariously from one of the branches overhead. “By the Light, Oaks,” she breathed, her expression hardening. “You scared the shit out of me.”

He swung his legs up and over the branch, settling in the small nook it provided. “Sorry about that,” he said, chuckling. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look that happy before. It was nice.”

“What’re you even doing out?” She glanced at her watch, swearing. “It’s well past midnight.”

He shrugged, kicking his legs with a childlike glee. “I dunno? Papa Bear doesn’t care what time I make it back these days and sometimes I just like to sit in the trees and listen to the sounds of the forest.” He grinned at her. “You should really try it sometime. I always see you passing through here late at night anyway. Do you want to join me?”

Eden pinched the bridge of her nose. “Join you? Why would I join you? It’s late. I have to get up in the morning and work. You know a job? Like normal people.” A troubled frown tugged at the corners of his mouth and his playful kicking abruptly stopped. Only then did she realize how bad that sounded.

She groaned, scrubbing hard at her face. “I’m sorry, that came out wrong. That’s not what I meant, it’s just...” She trailed off, muffling another groan in her hand. “I don’t know what I meant.”

Maybe Petra was right. Her stress had gotten so out of hand that she was taking it out on Oaks, of all people. She hadn't spent too much time with him, but there was no denying that he was one of the sweetest residents in all of Portia. He loved to make people smile with his antics. He was especially good with the kids. She caught herself watching him dash around the plaza with them, their shrill laughter making her feel some kind of way that was hard to describe. In all, he was a good guy and now, she was screaming at him in the middle of the woods ー just like her father had done to her when he got a little too wound up.

How far she’d fallen.

He tilted his head off to one side and said, “You’re stressed.”

“Yeah,” she managed tightly. “Just a little bit.”

His frown deepened, which looked weird on a face that was always full of smiles. “Well, if that’s all that’s bothering you, I can show you what I do when I’m feeling a little stressed.”

She peered up at him, squinting. What kind of things did he have to be stressed about? As far as she knew, his days were spent wandering the fields with colorful llamas outside her workshop or snooping around the stalls in town. Sometimes, late in the afternoons, she’d catch him whittling while she was out gathering supplies. He always looked so engrossed in his work, but even then, there was a serene aura that surrounded him at all times. Frankly, it wasn’t fair.

But her curiosity got the better of her.

“What do you do when you’re stressed?”

He grinned, radiantly, and said, “Follow me.” He shifted his weight, tumbling to the ground in front of her. She flinched, but he quickly pulled himself up and wiped the dirt from the front of his pants. She never realized how tall he was before now, which was saying something considering she towered over most of Portia’s residents, even Gust. He had her beat by an inch or two, which was something. She didn’t know how old he was, but his broad shoulders and the sharp cut of his jaw suggested he was well into his twenties. She just always assumed he was a lot younger because of how he acted.

Another error. Two months into sabbatical and she was already losing her edge.

“If you liked the smell of the apple blossoms, then I think you’ll like this place just as much, but it’s top secret, you can’t tell anyone.” He leaned in, looking earnest. He smelled vaguely of apples and cinnamon. She furrowed her brow. Was that what she was smelling earlier? “It’ll be our secret. Do you promise?”

Eden sputtered, “I mean, I guess?”

Seemingly satisfied with that response, he took her by the hand and tugged her off the beaten path. Eden stumbled after him, nearly losing her footing on the roots and divots on the forest floor. She’d changed out of her work clothes earlier, before meeting up with Petra, so she wasn’t dressed for trekking through the forest. “Oaks, do you mind slowing down a little, I, uh, ahー”

Her foot caught a particularly vindictive tree root, sending her careening forward. She braced herself for the inevitable impact, but Oaks reacted quickly. He scooped her up, pulling her flush against his chest with one arm. She blinked up at him in surprise, one hand pressed flat against the bare pectoral. His heart thundered under her palm, nearly as fast hers was beating at that moment. This close, she could make out the individual freckles smattered across the bridge of his nose.

Eden suddenly found it very hard to catch her breath.

“My bad.” He pulled away, looking a little sheepish. “I got a little excited.” His hand slipped back around hers and they moved on, albeit a little more slowly. “But we aren’t in a rush. Part of the fun is the journey to get somewhere, am I right?”

“Honestly,” Eden said, smoothing her unruly curls up and out of her eyes. “I’ve never really been a fan of traveling.” That was kind of why she picked Portia for her sabbatical year. It was vaguely familiar from the one or two times she visited as a child with her aunt and uncle. She already had a connection or two with Presley and Isaac, not that she considered them close friends or anything. It seemed like a low maintenance location. Traveling always seemed like an unnecessary risk, but she needed to get away from the bustle of Vega 5 to fully recover from all her, as her therapist put it, issues

“It was never really my speed.”

“Well, with that attitude, you never will,” Oaks said with a chuckle. “Every new place is an adventure if you believe it is.” He gave her another radiant smile. “Take this top secret location for an example, you’ve never seen it before, right?” She nodded. “Well, aside from that little snag earlier, I think I can make it pretty fun for you.”

She snorted. “And how do you reckon that?”

Oaks paused, his nose wrinkling as he considered her question. Eden resisted the urge to roll her eyes. So, he didn’t even know. It shouldn’t have surprised her. After twenty six years. she still didn’t know how to cut loose and have fun. She had the PhD hanging over her desk to prove it.

“Who do you think would win in a fight ー a panbat or an illusion bunny?”

They shared a long look. “What?”

Oaks shrugged. “It’s a question. Which do you think?” He held out his hands, as if he were weighing his options. “On the one hand panbats are small and move faster than the illusion bunnies, but the bunnies have a hat, so it feels like a toss up. I’ve always been curious, but I’ve never been able to come to a decision. You seem smart, so what do you think in your expert opinion?”

Eden bit back a smile. He was too pure for his own good. “You do realize my area of expertise is in relic tech, right?”

Oaks hummed thoughtfully. “In that case, have you considered there are tech versions of panbats?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, that would be…” She trailed off and thought about it. Maybe Oaks was onto something there. A lot of people thought panbats were cute, but the fact remained that they were wild panbats. One couldn’t just pluck one out of the forest and call it a pet. “That would be pretty amazing actually. Do you think someone would invent it so they could keep a versions as a pet without the social repercussions of capturing and domesticating an actual panbat?”

Eden got swept away in their conversation. Every time she hit the proverbial wall, Oaks was right there with another wild idea that kept the momentum going. She had written off when she arrived in Portia. He was a wild child, born and raised in the forest, but he overflowed with new ideas. In Vega 5, Eden was expected to be a cog in the well-oiled machine. Cogs didn’t change. They didn’t question. But here she was, discussing the intricacies of how one would cuddle a panbot model without realizing it was a machine.

It wasn’t even possible.

She’d been in the field long enough to know that, but Oaks made her feel like she could do anything as long as she was willing to put in the effort.

And she wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

“And here we are,” Oaks announced with a swipe of his hand. Eden blinked in surprise. They had been walking that whole time, hadn’t they? She didn’t even notice.

They weren’t in the forest anymore, rather, the sloping hills at the foot of the Bassanio Heights. She’d seen it from a distance, but up close, it was absolutely breathtaking. A waterfall rushed over the edge of the cliffside, coating the grass and wildflowers in a soft dew. The flowers looked freshly bloomed and filled the air with a soft floral scent that eased the tension coiling around her shoulders. She always found flowers calming, but there weren’t too many patches of green in Vega 5.

“When I’m a little overwhelmed with everything, I like to come up here and watch the waterfall. The sound is calming to me,” Oaks explained, tugging her closer to the edge of the cliff that overlooked the water. It rushed past, filling the empty air between them with a soothing white noise. The flowers reached her calves in some places. He picked one, pale blue with teardrop shaped petals, and offered it to her. She took it, twirling it sheepishly between her fingers.

“Do you know how to make flower crowns?”

She shook her head. “Do I look like someone who knows how to make flower crowns?”

“Anyone can make flower crowns,” he said with a shrug. “Looks have nothing to do with it. And Molly says that mine are the best in all of Portia.” He plopped down on the ground and plucked a few more. Pink, blue, yellow. His hands moved of their own accord as he expertly wove the stems in and out. “I can show you my secret.” He peered up at her, donning a soft smile that left her chest swelling with a warm glow. He had a dimple on his right cheek. “I mean, if you aren’t too busy with all your real adult work, that is.”

Eden laughed despite herself and took a seat across from him. “You’re a little cheeky,” she said. “I would have never expected that from you.”

“Well, Papa Bear has the best sense of humor. I learned it from him.”

“Naturally.” She regarded her flower fondly, then tucked it behind her ear.

Oaks beamed. “That color looks nice with your hair.” He immediately grabbed a few more of the blue flowers to lace into the crown that was quickly taking shape in his lap. “Molly only likes the pink and yellow flowers when I make them for her, so I rarely get to use the blue ones.”

“Use as many as you want. I’ve never had someone make me a flower crown before.”

“Well, they should,” Oaks said with firm conviction. “They’re scientifically proven to make you happier.”

“Well, I’m going to need to see your research because I’m a little skeptical.”

He presented her with the flower crown, beautifully crafted with blue and yellow. “Let us try our hand at a little experiment,” he said, imitating Merlin’s haughty drawl. He placed the crown on her head, adjusting a few of her curls. He settled back on his knees and regarded her with this fond look on his face. “Perfect.” She cracked a small smile and dipped her head, trying to hide it. “Exhibit A. You’re smiling.”

“Correlation doesn’t equal causation,” Eden countered.

“I don’t know what that means,” Oaks said. “But, I do know that people smile when they’re happy and yours just keeps getting bigger. That has to mean something, right? You normally have such a serious look on your face.” He made a face, furrowing his brow and setting his mouth in a hard line. It was the same look that greeted her when she looked in the mirror every morning. He was spot on. She couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled and burst out of her. “See, and now you’re laughing. That’s not a coral nation or whatever you said.”

“Correlation,” she corrected. “It means a mutual relationship between two things. So, just because we can measure a relationship between those two things, that doesn’t mean one is the cause of the other.” For instance, there was no quantifiable proof that the heat burning at her cheeks had anything to do with Oaks or his close proximity to her at that moment.

None whatsoever.

Still, she cleared her throat and pulled away, just to be safe. “It’s beautiful.” She straightened the flower crown, lingering on the silken petals. “Thank you.”

“I told you I make the best flower crowns.”

“Not so fast there, nature boy.” She wagged her finger at him. “I don’t know if I’ve gathered enough data to draw that conclusion.”

His brow pitched as he considered that. “Well, I can make you another one tomorrow? With more flowers if you’re worried about me not gathering enough before.” he offered after a long moment. Eden tilted her head at him, confused, but he was already moving on. “Or maybe we can go apple picking? I know where to find the really sweet ones.”

“I have a lot of work to do tomorrow,” Eden said. “I have to gather some ore in the mines, Gale wants me to catch him a few fish, and then I’m meeting with the Civil Corps to discuss the bridge construction to Amber Island.” She drafted her mental checklist for everything she still needed to get done and felt the tension pulling taut across her shoulders. There wasn’t enough time in the day to finish everything.

Oaks shrugged. “That’s just three things.”

Her thoughts ground to a halt. “W-What?”

He blinked at her. “That’s just three things,” he reiterated. “I might not be super smart like you, but even I know that’s not that many.”

When he phrased it that way, her to-do list seemed a little less daunting. “Just three things.” She chuckled to herself. “You’re a lot smarter than you give yourself credit for.”

He wheezed and plucked another flower from the field. It was a deep red, almost the same shade as his hair. “Well, if that’s the case, you’d be the first person who thinks so.” The sad resignation in his tone made something inside her ache.

“How about this? While I’m fishing tomorrow, you can hang out with me and show me how to make one of these things.” She pointed to the crown. “I’m pretty handy myself. I might be able to give you a run for your title as the best of the best.”

He grinned. “I like that plan.”

“Me too.”

Oaks hummed contentedly and sprawled out in front of her. He pointed at the sky. “Do you want to hear the stories Papa Bear used to tell me about the stars?” Eden glanced at her watch, the back at Oaks hopeful expression. An hour had already passed, but it certainly didn’t feel like it. She would even be so bold as to say that this little adventure was fun.

He added quickly after a moment, “Or I can walk you home if you want to sleep?”

“This is just one thing.” Eden laid down next to him and smiled at him. He mirrored it. “Tell me a story.”

#my time at portia #mtap #mtap builder #mtap oaks #mtap petra

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blissfullylostinarabbithole · 3 years

Text

Duckling Pt. 8

Pairing: AU!Teen Wolf x Reader x AU!Avengers, Derek Hale x Reader

Word Count: 3k

Summary: Reader’s friends need to pick up some last minute supplies before their camping trip. Luckily, Stiles knew of a new shop along the way.

A/N: Plot requester didn’t remember the name of the film this is based on, so if you recognize it, let me know!

<< Prev . Next >>

Despite them still having to get through a week of school before they were off for spring break, Shuri already had her bags packed. She’d rubbed how much fun she was going to have in her brother’s face, since he was going to be stuck practicing lacrosse for the upcoming semi-finals.

T’Challa told her he hoped the Rogers’ forget her in the desert, and she sent Peter a playful glare when he laughed in response.

The chatter died down when Natasha unexpectedly sat at their table, hardly looking up from her tray of food. They all turned to Peter, who looked even more confused than they did. Shuri’s cousin, Erik, stood abruptly and left, followed by a couple of others, leaving their lunches behind.

Clint laughed nervously, pulling their food toward him. “More for me! Hey, Nat.”

“Hey,” she croaked.

It didn’t go unnoticed by Peter how both she and Brock had dropped in popularity since their breakup. He did fail to notice, however, that they seemed to have fallen to the very bottom of the hierarchy. He realized she hardly went out anymore, and he couldn’t even remember the last time he saw anyone speak to her.

“Shuri was just telling us that she’s all set for our trip, weren’t you?”

She picked up on his pleading tone, and nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, I’m looking forward to it!”

Little by little, the conversation picked back up. Peter kept glancing nervously at his sister, hoping she wouldn’t be upset with him for forcing her inclusion. When she looked up at him, her lips twitching into a soft smile, he breathed a sigh of relief.

When the bell rang, signalling the end of lunch, Nat left without so much as a goodbye. Peter watched her leave, worry evident on his face. When he turned to look at the people who remained, they all turned away quickly.

After walking Shuri to her class, he headed toward his own, stopping when he heard Nat’s name coming from somewhere ahead of him. He recognized the voices as belonging to Clint and Erik.

“You didn’t have to be a dick about it!”

“I didn’t see you rush to extend your hand in friendship after!” Erik hissed. “Brock’s got a target on his back now, and-”

“Oh, come on!” Clint scoffed.

“AND so might she by association.”

“You don’t actually believe that crap, do you?”

“I believe what I know, and what I know is that anyone who crosses Hale ends up dead.”

“You don’t know that, that’s ridiculous.”

“Are you certain there’s no truth in it?” Erik challenged, and Clint didn’t respond. “Brock attacked his girl on that field. You know as well as I do it wasn’t an accident.” He shifted his backpack and walked away, Clint leaving soon after.

Instead of heading to class, Peter went to the nurse’s office. He was feeling a bit faint, so he was given some water and told to lie down while the nurse called his mother.

Peggy was there in a minute, and after failing to get any answers from him other than ‘I’m fine’, she called Steve to pick him up and instructed him to stay rested for the rest of the day.

He told his father his head was hurting, only to keep him from asking the same questions the nurse and his mother had already asked. Instead, he thought about Nat. He wondered if that was why people seemed to be avoiding her, and if she knew. Did she think her days were numbered, just like Erik did? Should he say something?

As concerned as he was, he somehow thought that would only make everything worse. He knew his family would take it seriously, and Shuri said herself they were only rumors, and not everyone believed them.

Maybe he could talk to the Sheriff? He seemed nice. But what if he told his parents?

He groaned in frustration, leaning his head against the window.

Steve gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze, assuring him they were almost home.

Both his parents insisted he stay home the following day, and he didn’t have it in him to argue. He ate his breakfast in silence, and headed back to his room. Peggy asked if he wanted her to stay, but he’d said no, and she headed off to school with Natasha.

Steve and Bucky asked if he wanted to go to the shop with them, but Peter said he wanted to nap and do homework, and that he’d be fine alone. They got the twins ready and headed out, reluctantly leaving Peter, staring at his window.

At first, he’d thought to try to sleep in, but as he’d had such a restless night, he didn’t think it was a viable option. He then took a page out of Shuri’s book and began to pack for their trip south. It didn’t take him long, though, and his mind went back to imagining the worst in no time.

Part of him knew his imagination was running away with him; how could so much death surround one person, and that person be let to walk free if he had been involved? That rational part of his brain fell to the back burner as the more gruesome thoughts took over, and unable to bear it any longer, dug through to the back of his closet where he kept his personal laptop hidden.

His parents thought he was too young to have his own computer, but Tony disagreed, and bought him one one day when he was visiting.

Peter turned it on now, biting his bottom lip as he silently urged the machine to boot faster. When it did, he began his search.

First he started with a broad search of the crimes in Beacon Hills. Needless to say, he was a little surprised by the results. With the exception of a couple of names here and there, only recognizing the Sheriff’s, it was a dead end. Then he began searching by name, recalling the people Shuri mentioned.

All he found on Matt were lacrosse and yearbook photos, and that he’d drowned. There were no traces of drugs or alcohol in his system. There was no foul play suspected, and the accepted answer was that he’d fallen and knocked himself out in an unfortunate spot. There was no mention of Derek, or his girlfriend.

He searched Y/N Lang next, and there was even less to be found about her: a mention on a story about the lacrosse state championship, and a “Best Friends” photo in the Beacon Hills High yearbook.

Derek Hale brought him the most results, but it wasn’t anything related to the information he was after, and he didn’t know whether to be relieved or frustrated. He wasn’t explicitly mentioned the news about the fire that claimed the lives of most of his family, nor in the story about his sister’s death.

All he found were several articles surrounding his achievements in athletics, and a “Cutest Couple” photo in the yearbook with a girl named Paige. They looked to be about Peter’s age in the picture, and he couldn’t imagine someone so young being capable of taking a life and getting away with it.

He thought about how he would feel if he lost Shuri. Not just her, but his whole family. The loss would change him, that was for sure, and he wondered if that’s what happened to Derek. And if the rumors weren’t true, he imagined that would’ve only made everything worse.

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

You kissed Derek goodbye as he dropped you off at Stiles’ for your camping trip. He couldn’t go because he had baseball ‘camp’, which only meant the team had to practice during spring break while everyone else got time off. It was unfair, but as Derek enjoyed it, he didn’t mind. Thus, you learned not to mind, either.

Scott was already there, trying not to laugh at the speech Stiles was getting about being responsible with his things.

None of you were sure why you even took fishing equipment in the first place, since you never actually caught much. When you did, you would release it. It was more about relaxing and talking and splashing around in the water. A string tied to a stick would’ve served the same purpose.

Still, Noah reluctantly handed over the tackle box and rods, wishing you a fun and safe trip.

You packed all your things into the back of the jeep, recently cleared of the usual clutter of lacrosse gear, and waited for the others to arrive.

Stiles nearly choked on air when Allison pulled up in her dad’s SUV, and saw Lydia sitting in the passenger seat. Scott pat him on the back, urging him to keep it together. Apparently, the only way Allison was going to be allowed to go, was if Lydia went, too.

He rambled on and on about how he was finally going to get his chance to impress her, and it only got worse when you made a pit stop just before heading into the forest.

Scott was in need of a two person sleeping bag, and when he ran into the new shop that had opened not too long ago, Lydia had called shotgun on the jeep before heading into the store herself.

Before Stiles could panic, or die of happiness, Kira and Isaac appeared, asking to squeeze into the back with you, stating they didn’t want to bear witness to all the cute, couply stuff between Scott and Allison.

You moved your stuff to the back of the SUV instead, and had Isaac sit in the very back of the jeep. He complained a little, but Stiles threatened to send him back to Allison’s car if he didn’t shut it.

Lydia arrived, sending Isaac an apologetic smile as she handed Scott her new tent and inflatable mattress to store in the car. You thought Stiles’ face was going to split with how wide he was grinning. Unfortunately, his joy only lasted as long as it took for Lydia to start gushing about the hot blond behind the counter.

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

It was only Bucky at the shop today; Peggy had taken the twins to the academy’s pre-school, while Steve took care of preparations for their trip. Bucky, Peggy, and the kids were already packed, and Shuri’s parents offered to drive them to the airport, so all that was left to do was for Steve to pack and make sure they weren’t going to leave anything in the fridge to spoil.

Though the trip was for the kids, Bucky couldn’t help but look forward to it. He wasn’t a fan of crowds, but he would enjoy the smiles on the kids faces. Sam was meeting them there as well, and though Bucky would never admit it, he was looking forward to seeing him again, too. Mostly, he was glad that even Nat’s mood lifted considerably as the end of the week drew closer.

He looked up as the door opened, and the sheriff’s son stumbled in, looking a little panicked.

“You lose the lures again, kid?” he asked, not waiting for an answer before pointing him in the right direction. He would have laughed at the offended look the boy sent him, but his attention was caught by the laughter of two other kids standing in the doorway.

He saw the second boy’s lips moving, but he didn’t register his words. His focus was entirely on the girl smirking at the sheriff’s kid, who was now making his way toward the fishing section of the shop.

“Hey,” the other boy waved a hand in front of his face. “Are you alright?”

Bucky was snapped out of his trance, looking at the kid in front of him. “Huh?”

“You kinda look like you’re gonna be sick.”

“Scott,” you hissed. “That’s kinda rude.”

Scott grimaced, mumbling a feeble ‘sorry’. “I’m gonna go help Stiles.”

Bucky watched you watch Scott go, hoping his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him. When you faced him, he took advantage of your close proximity to match your features to those of the little girl he missed so dearly.

The likeness was uncanny; too close to be a mere lookalike. At least, that’s what he hoped.

When you frowned at him, he realized you’d said something, and were waiting on a response. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

“I asked if that was your bike outside,” you repeated, worry still etched on your face.

It took him a moment to gather his thoughts. “Oh, right, yes. Do… do you ride?” He sincerely hoped not, which he knew was a bit hypocritical.

“Nah, my dad won’t let me,” you lamented, your face relaxing again.

Dad? he wondered. Who the hell is your ‘dad’?

“Well, um, that’s good. They’re dangerous, ya know?” He chuckled nervously at the unimpressed look you gave him. “So you an enthusiast or somethin’?”

“Not really, I just have my favorites.”

“Oh? Do you drive at all?”

Bucky thought he might faint at the way your face lit up. “Yeah, I have a ’53 Skylark.”

He couldn’t believe it. “The yellow one?” he asked. They’d lived in town for about six months. For six months you’d been right under their noses.

“Mm-hm. She was a gift from my boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend?” His voice grew more strained as the conversation continued.

“Yeah, he fixed her up for me for my sixteenth.”

“No,” he blurted. You wouldn’t turn sixteen for another couple of months. When you frowned again, he tried to play off his outburst. “No way, that’s… that’s a great gift. My nephew has a Chevelle SS we’re fixing up.”

“Nice!”

He saw you cast a glance toward your friends, and became worried that you’d join them. He wasn’t ready to say goodbye yet. “Yeah. Original parts aren’t as easy to find around here, though, so it’s uh, it’s slow going.”

“Have you tried Hale’s?” you asked, bringing your attention back to him. “They have a salvage yard behind the shop, and Peter’s always bringing in new stuff.”

Bucky actually hadn’t considered it, and made a mental note to check the place out. “You think they’ll have what I’m looking for?”

You considered his question and shrugged before pulling your phone from your pocket. “Only one way to find out.”

He watched you in awe as you scrolled through your contacts, barely registering the ringing until it stopped and a voice answered.

“Hey, Beautiful. Are you back from your trip?”

Bucky’s stomach tightened, and his heart broke a little at the way you smiled bashfully at your phone. He’d missed so much. You were so little when he’d last seen you, and now you were a young woman, possibly in love and with a life of your own.

“Not quite. Stiles lost his dad’s fishing stuff again, so we’re trying to replace what we can before heading home.” You giggled at the annoyed groan that came from the other end of the line, and Bucky bit back a sob at the sound of it. It was just like he remembered. “Yeah, anyway, I have someone here who’s looking for parts for a Chevelle Super Sport.”

“What year?”

You looked up at Bucky expectantly, and he had to swallow a few times before he found his voice. “1970.”

“What do you need?”

You smiled at Bucky, and he smiled back as he began listing the parts he needed. When the guy on the phone asked for his name to hold what parts were available for him, he watched you for any sign of recognition.

There was none.

The two boys ran up to the counter, placing handfuls of items down to be rung up. He didn’t catch the last bit of your conversation with your boyfriend, but he did manage to catch the odd looks the boys were giving him.

The sheriff’s son said something about not telling his dad, and Bucky agreed. He rung them up, quite carelessly, paying no mind to the items on the counter. He wouldn’t enjoy taking inventory later.

He didn’t care, though. The only thing that mattered was that you were about to walk out the door, and he didn’t know what to do.

“Duckling?” he whispered pleadingly.

He wasn’t sure why he said it; a last ditch effort to get a reaction, he supposed. But you stopped. When you turned, you looked his way, but it was like you were seeing through him. The confusion on your face told him you didn’t know why you stopped, but he hoped deep down, part of you remembered.

“Y/N!” One of the boys called, pulling you from your thoughts.

With a final wave at Bucky, you walked out and over to a blue jeep. He watched you climb into the back, missing the concerned looks the two boys exchanged.

He fought every instinct to run out and grab you and bring you home. To quell the feeling of dread at the possibility of losing you again, he reminded himself you lived in town, and unless your so-called ‘family’ moved, you shouldn’t be difficult to find.

Family. His body filled with rage at the thought of the people who’d nearly destroyed his, happily pretending you were part of theirs. He stormed to the front door and locked it, flipping the ’OPEN’ sign over.

He pulled his phone out to make a call, and stared at it. Should he call the police, or should he call Steve first? Somehow, neither option sounded like it was the right move. He settled on a contact and dialed. When no one answered, he hung up and tried again. After the fifth time, he decided to leave a message.

“Sharon, I need you to drop everything and call me back right now. Don’t tell anyone, alright? I think I found her.” He took a deep breath, knowing it was going to be hard for them to keep it from the others. “Look, I don’t wanna get anyone’s hopes up, and I need a second opinion. I need to be sure I’m not losin’ my mind here.”

Permanent - @melconnor2007 @ria132love @psychicwitchphilosopher @sireennotsiren @silence–in–the–library @thefridgeismybestie @hymnofthevalkyrie @abbybills22 @mvasquez492 @ek823 @nicky10876 @sophiealiice @madeof-ink @dugan365 @magnitude101999 @way-ward-whale @i-am-the-fandom-warrior @seabasstiantrash @eden-the-human-garden

Duckling - @lgkoval@charmed-1998 @broco8 @sailor-earth-1 @sincerely-kizzy

If I missed you, let me know!

#marvel #Avengers #teen wolf #derek hale x reader #reader #reader insert #Duckling

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vanilladyfics · 4 years

Text

Pack Animal - Ch 2

Read the first chapter here!

Ship: Wolf!Kastuki Bakugo x Fem Hiker!Reader

Genre tags: Hurt/Comfort, childhood friends to lovers, omegaverse themes because wolves, aged up

Warnings: Sex reference, swearing, hording reference, divorce reference, slight angst

Word Count: 1.2k

Authors Note:

I had a plan and did not stick to it. This is looking to be a four or five chapter fic.

Summary:

The reader meets up with Katsuki after their one night stand to explain why she left as a teen. Turns out, wolves have never heard of divorce. This chapter is relatively safe for work.

Do not repost.

You stopped by the laundromat before your visit with Katsuki. Your father had a washer and dryer at home, but they were currently being used for storage, for rocks of all things, and likely needed to be replaced. After checking that no one was looking, you gave Katsuki's borrowed shirt a deep sniff. It still smelled like him, but what could he smell? Wolves were known for their keen senses-- would he be able to guess the state of the house from smelling it? You dropped the shirt in the wash, added an extra splash of bleach to the tub to be on the safe side, and pressed start. The countdown started at thirty minutes. You checked the time. By the time this last load would be dry and folded, you would have three hours before your father got home. Factoring in the drive and hiking time, you'd have two hours to talk with Katsuki. More than enough time.

You slouched down in one of the cheap laundromat chairs and went over how you were going to have that conversation. You decided last night that you needed to keep it simple. Tell him only what he needed to know: Your parents divorced, you moved away with your mom, and didn't know how to contact him. You would not give any details he didn't ask for. Under no circumstances would you mention the hoard. With the fresh laundry safely locked in your rental truck, you went to the bathroom to change your clothes and slathered on so much sunscreen you looked three shades lighter. You grimaced at your reflection, feeling guilty for going to the same lengths an alcoholic would to hide the smell of booze after their last bender. You had no reason to feel ashamed. It wasn't even your mess. Maybe the guilt came from lying by omission. Maybe because your father was hurting and you abandoned him in his time of need. You pressed the thought down, taking practiced breaths. On your way out, you noticed the battered condom dispenser by the door. The conversation you were about to have would surely squash any chances at getting lucky tonight. You bought two, anyway, and stuck them deep in your front pocket. You didn't want a repeat of last time. Well, you did want a repeat of last time, preferably with protection.

---

About half an hour later, you sat next to your old friend at the end of the fishing dock, your jeans rolled up to your knees, ankles dragging in the water. You hugged your backpack to your chest as you apologized for the umpteenth time.

“Stop fucking apologizing and just spit it out.”

“I'm sorr--” You clamped your jaw shut, catching yourself. You rehearsed this so well on the drive here, but something about seeing his face ripped your perfect monologue into shambles. “This went so much better in my head.” What's worse is that he's being so nice about it. Nice for him, anyway. Seeing how much he had grown as a person only made the time you spent apart feel so much bigger.

You recalled your breathing exercises and tried again. “My parents got divorced. We tried to do the split custody thing, but it didn't work out. When I went to my mom's that last time, I thought it was just going to be for a week, but then we moved further away, and I didn't know how to contact you. I'm... I want to say I'm sorry, but I know you don't want to hear it.” Katsuki had been unusually quiet for a long time. Anxiety seized in your chest. “Please say something.”

You stared at his profile, trying to gauge his expression. He seemed... confused. His brow furrowed. “You lived at your father's den, and then at your mother's den.”

“Mm hmm” You nodded, not bothering to correct his lupine word choice.

“Separate dens.”

“Yes. Mom moved out after they got divorced.”

His nose wrinkled. “What's 'divorce'?”

Your jaw dropped as you repeated his question in your mind. What's divorce? This is not where you thought this conversation was going, but at least he wasn't asking about the house itself. “Do wolves not have divorce?”

“Would I be fucking asking if we did?”

That's fair. “Maybe you just have a different word for it. Divorce is when... Divorce is...” Your nose stung, and you could feel the tears coming. You kicked your feet in the water to distract yourself, watching the fish scatter as you made waves. You sighed. “My parents were married-- you'd say mated-- and now they're not. That's divorce. Mom's with someone else now. He's nice, so that's good.”

You could feel Katsuki still beside you.

“Kacchan?”

“Did your father die?”

“No, they're still alive, just--” You gestured vaguely, “separate.”

The wolf man stood abruptly, and started pacing the length of the pier. “They were mated, and now they're just... un-mated?” Bile rose in his throat. He might be sick. Wolves don't just up and un-mate their mate.

You watched him grow more agitated. “Close. ‘Un-mate’ would be an annulment. Divorce is more like... ‘stop-mate.’ If that makes sense.”

“You have more than one kind? No, it doesn't make any fucking sense!” He raked his fingers through his hair. Katsuki was pissed, and he didn't know who he should be pissed at. He wanted to howl at the injustice of it all. His quirk fired off in his hands, but he barely felt it. Un-mate. Stop-mate. It was complete bullshit. He could have lived his whole life without hearing those words, and now he couldn't un-hear them.

You chased after him, “Katsuki! It's okay! It was years ago.”

“It's not okay, it's fucked up!” He grabbed your shoulders and pulled you into a hug so tight your ribs ached. You squeezed him back, tearing up again. It was a hug that came almost a decade late, but you needed it the same, burying your face in his neck. “That shit should never happen. I am so fucking sorry. Fucking un-mate--” He spat out the distasteful word, combing his fingers through your hair. “[Y/N], I would never un-mate you.”

Something about his scent sapped the fight right out of you. Your father had mentioned something about certain wolves having calming effect. Was this it, or part of his quirk? You had been running on stress for so long; without it, you deflated against him. He spoke as if you were a couple, but you didn't have the energy to argue. He smelled so good, like the smoke rising from a snuffed-out candle. You absently wondered if he tasted good, too. “Kacchan...” You turned your head, nuzzling against the same spot on his collar where he bit you last night. You could do the same, you thought, licking your lips. He'd probably let you. You could barely keep your eyes open.

“Don't go falling asleep on me now,” he warned, threading his fingers through your hair.

Too late.

#Pack Animal #Wolf!Katsuki #Katsuki Bakugo x Reader #bnha fanfic #omegaverse #bnha x reader

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fakefeltflowers · 3 years

Text

Howdy, I rewrote Sam's back story for something unrelated and though to put it on here. Sam's full name is Sam Orion and they live in a small town known for it's spooky happenings. Also, warning for animal death, namely chickens and cattle.

---

The Orion estate is a patchwork quilt of crops and fields for livestock, passed down from generation to generation, growing like a benign tumor.The estate itself was just about as old as Sarton itself and became a fixture of the community, for better or for worse, and with the estate came the hunters. Back when the estate was little more than a ramshackle hut that leaned at a 45 degree angle, there had been hunters. When Sam was a child, they only had a vague understanding of the family’s history and the rumors. They knew that ‘back in the old days’, whenever that was, their family had been known for being reclusive and cagey. The old family shot at any animal or person that had the gall to come too close to the fence that encloses the scraggly wheat fields or to the miniscule coup. But that was back then, not like that was something that happened now. Then Sam turned 16 and the chickens began to die.

During the dog days of that summer, Sam was supposed to take care of the chickens. As far as anyone could tell, Sam had done a fairly good job, they even managed to raise a few chicks themselves. You could understand why they’d be concerned at the sight of a dead chicken just outside the coup. Fearing the worst, Sam rushed to survey the damage, but instead there was nothing. The remaining chickens were stressed and refused to come out of the coup, but otherwise fine.

Confused, Sam went back to observe the carcass, eyes raking over claw marks and feathers matted with a sticky black substance that burned their eyes. There were bite marks but there wasn’t anything eaten. It wasn’t the kill of an opportunistic predator, it was too sadistic and there was too little eaten. But the other chickens were fine and the carcass was disposed of. Still, Sam couldn’t stop themselves from crying all morning.

“Kiddo, they’re just chickens. We still have eight of them left, just leave it be. I’ll take care of it,” said their father, Arthur. He said to himself that it would just go away on its own, of course he was lying to himself and Sam.

8 chickens became 7, 7 became 5, 5 became 2. The cattle followed suit, one by one their blood mingled with the poisonous black fluids and smeared a trail through the grass leading to the woods that stood on the edge of the estate. It was a mocking trail of bait made specifically for the impatient and the naive Sam. So, they resolved to fix the problem, like they would ‘back in the old days’. Armed with a hunting rifle that had been just a little too big for them, they clambered out of their bedroom window. Following the trail of dead grass to the entry into the Whispering Woods. Then Sam waited, refusing to let the tiredness that weighed their eyelids down over take them. Eyes glazed over, Sam watched the warm wind shake the leaves that obscured their forum. They watched bugs lazily flutter by. They watched the unmoving dark lines of trees. They watched and they watched and they watched-

Sam woke with a start at the sound of snapping twigs. The moon hung high overhead as they scanned the tree line for the source of the sound. Hidden among the towering trees, a shaggy beast with a pale face paced along the forest floor, it’s long body blending in with the tall grass that bordered the treeline. Of course, not that Sam was paying much attention because at that point Sam had fired the rifle in the woods, shattering the nighttime silence. In response the beast galloped into the dark of the night, a taunting laugh echoing behind it. The hunt had begun.

‘How long has it been?’ thought Sam, a thought that had at first started as a dim whisper that only grew louder as Sam’s legs began to protest and thorns had cut through their jeans, staining their calves a rust color. The trees had managed to weave together so that barely any of the moonlight was able to illuminate the forest floor. Sam’s knuckles were white from clutching the rifle, the cold steel of the barrel sapping any residual heat from their body. They realized that they had begun to shiver despite the warmth of the summer air.

‘It’s too dark out here. I shouldn’t even be out here, what was I thinking-’

“Sam?” a voice called out, cutting Sam’s clarity short. Who was that? It almost sounded familiar, but it was hard to make out.

“Sam?” the voice repeated. Sam unconsciously began to follow the voice, it was their father after all. They needed to go home, they were so tired.

“Sam?” the voice called out, even deeper into the woods.

“Sam?!” the voice became panicked, ‘He’s hurt,’ Sam thought as they started running. The voice repeated their name over and over, becoming shrill and panicked, to a certain point it barely sounded like Sam’s father, but at that point it didn’t matter. At that point Sam was too scared to rationalize, too scared to think of anything but home.

“SAM!” the voice called out one last time before it suddenly stopped. Sam found themselves at a clearing with a creek running through it that was otherwise empty. A dawning realization was replaced by fear as they heard the rustling of leaves above them, shortly followed by the sound of something heavy softly landing behind them. Sam whipped around and locked eyes with the beast, its hollow eye sockets swimming in a sea of dirty white canvas and sharp teeth. Sam knew that they were too close to aim the rifle but nonetheless the barrel belched out a wisp of smoke with a pop of light. The bullet that was haphazardly spat out whizzed by the beast and lodged itself into a tree just right of the beast. Momentarily distracting the beast, the shattering wood gave Sam enough time to twist their body so that the beast’s long claws only managed to graze the flesh underneath their sweater.

The icy water that soaked through their jeans would be shocking if the gun hadn’t slipped from their grasp. Then the icy fear in their veins was replaced by a burning hot pain that radiated from Sam’s chest. Their vision began to blur as Sam saw their blood began to oxidize into a thick black substance that burned their skin and eyes.

The beast began stalking towards Sam, that familiar mocking laugh fell out of a maw filled with sharp teeth as Sam began to choke on the taste of hairspray and apple seeds.

Suddenly, the maw of teeth shattered with a deafening gunshot, abruptly jerking the beast’s head to the side. Sam scrambled to their feet, grabbing the rifle and aimed at the beast, shooting wildly until they ran out of bullets. Then they realized that there was still another gun firing, attached to their father, who was entirely focused on the beast. Of course, at that point the beast was little more than a shadow of its former self, it’s jaw hanging loosely by a scrap of canvas and its fur was slick with the stinking black that seeped out of Sam’s chest. Eventually, Arthur’s gun had run out of ammunition, causing the beast to chuckle lowly and began to back away.

“‘I’ll take care of it,’” the beast said in Arthur’s voice, though that didn’t distract him from reloading. But before the shooting could resume, the beast had already disappeared into the woods.

---

The sound of fizzing hydrogen peroxide was the only thing disturbing the dense silence in the kitchen. Sam did their best to not cry out as Tayna gently blotted the reddish-grey foam off their chest, instead they hissed in reply.

“I’m gonna clean this out with some alcohol, this might sting a bit,”

“Fuck!” Sam jolted away as the throbbing pain sharpened into a stabbing pain, “just, lemme do it,” they said as Tayna muttered an apology. As Sam gingerly blotted away at the claw marks on their abdomen, Arthur stared them down with an indiscernible mix of anger, disappointment and something else Sam couldn’t quite place.

“What the hell were you thinking?” he said as Sam began to dress their wounds.

“Arthur-” Tanya began, but was cut short.

“No, really Sam, what the fuck is wrong with you? Sneaking out at night with a gun like a moron, I told you I’d take care of it!”

“But you didn’t,” Sam said, avoiding eye contact with their father.

“What?” The clock above the stove top read 3:52 am, but Arthur’s voice continued to rise, “You have no right to go out in the middle of the night like that. Not only did you disobey your curfew-”

“No, you don’t get to make me the wrong one here, you knew damn well that what was killing the animals wasn’t normal!”

“And it would’ve killed you-”

“What if it went after Jack?”

“Don’t you dare bring up your brother in this,”

“I can’t believe you hid this shit from me after refusing to do anything about this, you’re supposed to take care of us!”

“I can't believe you have the gall to come into my house after nearly getting your ass killed, acting like I’m the bad guy,” the two’s voices overlapped, escalating into a shouting match. At this Tanya has joined, attempting to be a peacemaker, but it only added to the chaos, eventually waking up the whole house.

Every family member that lived in the house stood in the kitchen, tired, angry and confused. Even littlest Jack, who was only 5 years old at that point, stood at the bottom of the stairs that lead into the dining room with bleary eyes. They all stared expectantly at Arthur and Sam, who was beginning to put their shirt back on so they could avoid making eye contact with anyone in the room.

“Listen Sam, we’ll discuss this in the morning proper. Go to bed, all of you.” Arthur finally said, and people began to filter into their bedrooms, with Sam being the last one to fall asleep at the ripe hour of 5:30.

---

The sound of croaking magpies woke Sam up the next morning, though at this point it was closer to noon. Every fiber of their body screamed in protest as Sam rolled out of their bed. Not to mention the feeling of their bedsheets clinging to their still sticky body as residual sweat and blood coated their body. Unfortunately, the shower and the new set of clothes did little to ease the nausea.

The rest of the morning was less a blur and more a haze of events, a confirmation of some rumors, a disproving of others. Some monsters were real and others were made up to sell t-shirts and keychains and others were a little bit of both. A vague introduction to a house on the edge of the estate, a bed, a wall of weapons. Something about never trusting strangers and that the monsters would keep coming.

“Are the monsters ever gonna stop?”

“No, Sam, they aren’t. But you have to try,”

#yeah the quality is low but that's okay #i'll also publish this on wattpad or something for archival purposes #so yeah this version is a bit different #I originally imagined Sam meeting Splendor right off the bat but I think it's more interesting this way #also sorry for the anti climatic ending I was getting really burnt out plus I was using this for a rp fourm backstory #crunch and all that #sam scraps #creepypasta oc #creepypasta au #eyestrain #kinda #red #oc #writing #animal death #creepypasta

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biaswreckingfics · 4 years

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No Limits: Part 2

Author: biaswreckingfics

Genre: Mafia AU - Warnings? Everything that goes on in a Mafia AU

Word Count: 3.5k

Previous Chapter

Chanyeol stared at him as he spoke with a dull expression, and once Junmyeon finished speaking he says what they all secretly fear, “If the Baem has him, then he’s already dead.”

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You knew it! You knew Sehun didn't die in that explosion. Brief relief swept through you at the thought of Sehun still being alive and it took all of your willpower to not bounce in your seat with happiness, but it was quickly crushed by Chanyeol's "he's already dead" attitude.

If the Baem had Sehun, then they had to act quickly before something really bad does happen. Giving up and thinking he was already dead wasn't going to help anyone, especially Sehun.

"While we're on the subject of the Baem..." Junmyeon trails off while looking at you. You knew where he was going with this by the way his eyes slightly narrowed.

Don't you fucking dare, Junmyeon, you angrily think, trying to shove the thought from your head to his.

"Now that we assume Sehun is still alive and most likely being held captive by the Baem, I don't want you to be involved in this anymore, Y/N. It's way more dangerous than we originally anticipated."

"Bullshit," You immediately counter, stealing yourself for the same argument the two of you always seem to have. "It was always dangerous. Nothing has changed. We wanted to destroy the Baem before and now we'll destroy them and get Sehun."

Junmyeon purses his lips before leaning back in his chair and folding his arms across his chest. "We don't have time for an argument. I don't want you involved. In fact, I don't even want you sitting at this table right now."

"I don't give a fuck what you want, Junmyeon. You're not the only one with a say. If the other EXO members don't want me involved, then fine, but all you're trying to do is play the big brother role that you're already a decade too late for," You snap at him.

Chanyeol snorts at your response before looking at Junmyeon and standing up from his lean against the wall. "And you tell me I need to get my shit together. How about following your own advice, leader."

As Chanyeol walks out of the room, the sad look on Junmyeon's face immediately makes you want to take back what you said, but you were so sick and tired of having this fight every couple of days that you couldn't do it.

"I'm sorry, Jun, but I'm not going to change my mind... I deserve the chance to avenge mom and dad and also get revenge for myself... and I'm not going to have this argument with you anymore."

Your brother held your stare as he thought out everything silently. He looked around the room at his men and took in their expressions before sighing.

"What do 'the other members of EXO' think?" He asks with a slight edge to his voice.

You inwardly cringe as you realize just how much your words had hurt your brother. That wasn't what you wanted. He was one of the last people you wanted to hurt, but his lack of faith in you hurt you also, so you would continue to stand your ground.

"When Jisoo and Minhyuk died, the Elders took away my right to avenge their deaths, and I still hate them for that to this day..." Baekhyun slowly starts as he stares at the table in front of him. The faded pain still clear in his voice until he shakes it off and looks up at your brother. "You were there with me, Junmyeon. You saw what that did to me. Do you want to do that to your sister?"

Your brother was clearly affected by Baekhyun's words as he thought back to that time. It showed in the way he tilted his head up toward the ceiling, closed his eyes, and clenched his jaw.

"She's already come really far in her training. If she keeps it up, I don't see any reason she shouldn't be involved," Jongin adds his opinion.

Junmyeon nods a little before looking back down at the members and sliding his chair back. "I'll take your opinions into consideration. Meeting dismissed."

You silently watch as he abruptly stands up from his chair and walks out of the room, not sending a single glance your way. When the rest of the members quietly get up and leave without a passing word to each other, you feel a small piece of your heart break.

When you first came here, the group was lively and rambunctious. There was laughter and noise all throughout the day and night, and the near silence that was now a constant in the compound was deafening.

You feel a sudden poke in your arm and look over at Baekhyun, who had apparently stayed behind with you. He searches your eyes trying to figure out what you're feeling.

"What's up?" He finally asks before placing his elbow on the arm of the chair and resting his chin on his hand, waiting to hear your thoughts.

Sighing, you angle your body towards him and lean your head against the back of the seat, feeling completely comfortable with sharing your innermost thoughts with him. "I'm tired of everyone walking around on eggshells. How are they supposed to be a group when they can hardly even communicate?"

"When are you going to learn to not take on everyone else's problems?" He asks you softly.

"Probably never..."

He lets out a small laugh that causes your heart to flutter, and you stiffen. It didn't escape your notice that he was starting to affect you more and more, but you couldn't bring yourself to think about that right now. There was too much going on at the moment.

"How about, for now, you focus on kicking Jongin's ass in training? We'll worry about the rest later."

Sehun's POV

He had fallen into the soldier role well, and as it turns out, he was a quick learner.

The Baem had been giving him small tasks and testing out his abilities in all areas. They discovered he was apparently good with weapons and explosives. Like really good. Like Sehun almost scared himself good.

When the Baem discovered his talent, they kept him strictly with their weapons unit, and the more Sehun played around with things, the more small pieces of his memory came back.

He remembered how to handle wiring and how to build certain explosives, he remembered how to properly care for every gun he came across, and he was remembering other things as well... like his dislike for all the easy girls who were always around and throwing themselves at him. He remembered that he preferred classier girls who respected themselves, and for some reason when he thought of an example, you were the one that flashed into his mind.

All that did was cause him more confusion. Why were you the one that he thought of? Because he had recently seen you? It was just another thing to add to his growing list of questions, and with the memories he gained, that list was getting quite long.

Something else he thought was odd was the fact that he didn't recognize any of his members. As the other things started coming back, he thought memories about his members would come back too, but they weren't. These men still felt completely foreign to him.

On top of that, they consistently kept asking him questions about EXO, and it was really starting to fucking irritate him. How many times did he have to say he couldn't remember? He understood they were their rivals, but they never even asked him questions about the Baem, just EXO.

It almost seemed like they were testing him, but why?

Y/N's POV

It had been a few days since the meeting, and it seemed like the tension in the house had gotten even worse. It felt like you were all waiting for the other shoe to drop, like whatever was holding the last of you together was going to break any day now.

It was almost like everyone was backtracking instead of trying to move on and heal, and things with your brother had not been good at all. Neither of you had attempted any communication since your last argument. Junmyeon would often lock himself in his office and would hardly come out, and you tried to hang out in your room a lot because you were just tired. Tired of all of it.

A quick knock sounded on your door before Jongin peeked in. "Time for training, let's go."

You sigh at the thought of another day of having your ass handed to you, but jump up from your bed and follow him down the hall because you knew this would be the perfect opportunity to ask him about one of the many things that had been on your mind lately.

"Okay, fine, but I want to talk on the way."

Now it was Jongin's turn to sigh because he knew exactly what you wanted to talk about. Minseok.

"I don't regret killing Minseok's father." He immediately says, causing you to slow down your steps and look over at him while he continued. "I'm glad I was the one to do it."

"I wasn't going to ask that..." You slowly say, now completely stopped in the middle of the hallway. "I just wanted to know if the two of you will be okay..."

Jongin awkwardly comes to a stop beside you. "...Oh..."

"What's on your mind, Jongin?"

He turns to face you and searches your eyes almost with a slight panic. "I think there's something wrong with me..."

Your heart jumps a little at his words and how his entire demeanor crumbled before you. The way he broke eye contact and swallowed while looking down the hallway immediately put you on edge.

You knew Jongin was holding in a lot of emotions. He didn't often like to be perceived as "weak" no matter how many times you told him emotions didn't make him weak. Instead, he liked to drown his sadness and pain in girls and alcohol, but you wanted to try to find a way to help him past that, and right now, Jongin was giving you an unusual glimpse into his vulnerability.

"Why do you say that?"

"...Because I felt happiness when I killed him. Relief... You're not supposed to feel happy when you end someone's life, and it's not the first time. I felt the same way about my stepdad."

Everything Jongin was saying made sense. In a normal world, killing people was a horrific, atrocious thing, but in the mafia world... nobody was really a "good guy". They all did horrible things, and no, you weren't trying to justify murder. You knew things weren't so black and white, but those two were bad men.

"Jongin, they were shit people who did horrible things, it's not wrong to feel relief that they're gone." You tell him, but the look of doubt is clear on his face. "I don't think anything is wrong with you... I'd be happy if I were in your position too."

He raises his eyebrows at your statement before saying, "Maybe there's something wrong with you too."

His words cause you to pause in thought until you finally shrug, "Well, then we'll be fucked up together."

He shakes his head at you, but a small smile does find its way onto his face, and that was literally all you cared about at the moment.

As the two of you start to walk down to the training room again, he asks, "Was that all you wanted to talk about?"

"Are you avoiding Minseok because of what you just told me?"

He avoids looking at you and continues quietly walking down the hallway for a moment before answering. "Partly... I thought it'd be good to give him space. I took away his last living parent... How can you forgive someone for that?"

You couldn't respond to his question, because you didn't know the answer yourself. Would you be able to forgive Jongin if you were in Minseok's position? It was hard to put yourself in those shoes because you knew, one way or another, Minseok's father was never going to leave that room. Whether it be by Jongin's hand, your brother's, or your own.

All you knew was that it was something the two of them would have to work out themselves, and you were worried about what would happen if they let this go on for too long. "You need to talk to him before it's too late..."

He thinks about your words for the rest of the walk but remains silent until the two of you walk into the training room, where your eyes immediately find Baekhyun waiting there. You would be lying if you said a thrill didn't go through your entire body at the sight of him.

"Are you joining us today?" Jongin asks with clear amusement.

You're silent as you watch Baekhyun walk up to the two of you with a swagger you've only ever seen him pull off. You shake your head at the thought, immediately annoyed with yourself for thinking someone's walk was sexy.

"Oh, I'll be here every day until she kicks your ass," Baekhyun replies with a smirk that you force yourself to ignore.

His words and belief in you, however, gave you the motivation you needed to train, and for the next hour, the three of you warm-up and take turns sparring with each other. You could feel yourself getting stronger, compared to how you were before the training started, and the thought made you giddy with adrenaline. You were becoming a badass person, and damn, it was exciting.

"Kai hyung," A voice calls from the entrance of the training room, "I'm sorry to interrupt, but there's an issue at the club."

Jongin drops his fighting stance and sighs as he looks over at the younger man who you have never seen before. "Which one?"

"The one we just acquired, sir."

Jongin swore before following the younger man out of the training room. You turn to Baekhyun in confusion.

"Who was that, and what club is he talking about?"

"Someone in Jongin's unit," He answers while slowly circling you, "They just bought a ...gentleman's club."

You turn your body with him as he watches your movements, looking for a place to attack, but your mind was already elsewhere.

"You guys own strip clubs too?"

"We dabble in a little bit of everything. Casinos, dealerships, strip clubs... Why do you sound so surprised?"

Why were you surprised? Jongin was one of the most sexual beings you knew. It made perfect sense for him to run the strip clubs.

Suddenly, you feel a jab in your left arm as Baekhyun takes a hit at you and circles around behind you. You quickly turn and catch the smirk still on his face.

He raises an eyebrow at the taken aback look on your face and asks, "You thought you were done training because your teacher left?"

Your throat suddenly dries up at the sight of him. The raised eyebrow, the smirk, his sweaty naked torso, his eyes as they looked over your body, searching for a hint of your next move. It was a sensation overload. Pair that with the previous conversation of strip clubs, and your mind almost went blank.

Focus. You needed to focus. Forget about the stupidly attractive, oddly caring guy in front of you and put your opponent on his fucking ass.

You studied his movements for a moment, the way his body leaned, and the direction his feet were facing before making your move.

You tried to make all of your movements seamless and fast, but Baekhyun was still able to track them and quickly blocked the punch you threw at him. Your next thought was to aim a high kick toward his side, but he caught your leg mid-air and held it still.

You hopped around as you tried to balance on one foot and met his stare. You were shocked to find heat in his gaze, and suddenly, the position you were in seemed way too intimate for sparring.

"Can I have my leg back?" You breathlessly ask.

Baekhyun slowly looks down at your leg, like he didn't even realize he still held it, before quickly dropping it, shaking his arms out, and rolling his neck around.

The two of you backed away and sized each other up. You had yet to take Baekhyun down, and suddenly, you were very determined to do it tonight. The tension in your body would only be settled when one of you was on your back.

He takes a step toward you, and you step back in response, maintaining the same distance between you, and when he brings his arm back to strike, you dodge. Unfortunately, you were too late to realize it was a trick, and his leg was able to snake out and swipe you off your feet.

The panic came, just like it always did when you fell, and you grab his arm in a death grip on your way down. His body, not expecting the extra weight of another person, gave out, and he landed directly on top of you.

You both let out a small noise as your bodies smack into each other and then lay there for a second as you both try to figure out what just happened. Finally, the situation registers in your mind. Byun Baekhyun, a member of the deadly EXO and the guy you were stupidly attracted to, was laying on top of you.

Your heart was hammering in your chest, and you knew he could feel it because you could feel his beating erratically too. Both of you were already breathing heavily from the sparring, but the way his body molded around yours almost stole all your breath entirely. You could feel the strength of his body against the softness of yours, and it sent your mind into a wild frenzy.

As he leans his weight onto one of his arms so he wouldn't crush you, you search his eyes and let out a small gasp when you see the hunger in them. The noise draws his eyes down to your lips, and his tongue slips out to wet his own.

His gaze bounces between yours and your lips, searching for something, an answer or permission maybe, before he slowly lowers his head and claims your lips with his own. It was gentle and light at first, and the softness of his lips causes your remaining breath to disappear, but when you open your mouth and let him in, the kiss quickly turns more passionate.

His kiss sent an explosion of bright, colorful lights through your head, and it was enough to make you dizzy. His tongue slid into your mouth and quickly began teasing yours, and you couldn't get enough of it. You tilt your head to the side, and he quickly deepens the kiss as his free hand slowly slides down the side of your body.

Everything felt right all of a sudden. Kissing Baekhyun made you feel like everything would be okay in the end. It made you feel like your head was going to explode, but you welcomed it because if this was how you were going out, you had absolutely zero complaints.

After a while, he slowly pulls away, but not before leaving one more soft kiss on your tingling lips. You gradually open your eyes, and the two of you stare at each other in amazement. You were never the romantic or fairy tale type of girl, and you never believed that people were made for each other, but with Baekhyun, you wanted to be.

A noise across the room breaks the spell the two of you had fallen under and the mumbled words of an apology have both of your eyes widening.

The two of you look over at the source of the noise and see a flustered young man still apologizing and looking everywhere but at the two of you. You had no idea who he was, but you assumed he was another member in one of the guys' units.

The thought was confirmed when Baekhyun quickly scrambles off of you. You search his face to get an idea of how he's feeling, and a small flash of hurt and confusion goes through you when you see the spooked out look on it.

Was he worried about the younger man telling someone? Your brother, maybe? Was it something else entirely? Did he... did he regret kissing you?

Before you could get any of these questions out, Baekhyun excuses himself and quickly takes off toward the exit, leaving you laying there all alone.

Tagging: @knjkitten @kpopserene @multifandombxxch @tashaxvamp @kpop---scenarios @bhyunni @chanyeolismybaby @flaming-laboob @taetaeeyong @lilbitoflyssa @misstressporkchoppp @hoseok-wang @spiltkpop @isha454 @depuis2mille @marovekian1 @ladylynae @abby8451 @lynniev @insta1010 @sawadabegum @avxngxrrogxrs @equesasprokishi @imstuckinafictionaluniverse @layisanangel @mongryong-the-corgi @overthelamebowz @lizbether01 @thatanonymousgirl-as14 @nothingbutadeadesceane @kim-ji-hyeons-world @suhappysuho @futuremrspcy

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tehyunqs · 4 years

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𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐔𝐓 — 𝐶𝐻𝐴𝑃𝑇𝐸𝑅 𝑂𝑁𝐸

HEART OUT in which an angel is sent down to earth to change the reckless ways of the boy she was assigned to protect before his time runs out. ( a kim taehyung au )

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: foul language, toxic masculinity, mentions of hell, etc. . . .

𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲: hello! uh, wattpad sucks and people on there don’t give a shit about my work, so i thought that i’d come back to tumblr just to give it a second try! hope you enjoy this little series :’)))

the moment God told eden her last mission before finally becoming one with the archangels she knew it would be almost impossible to accomplish it. the person she'd been assigned to guard didn't quite turn out the way she hoped. the little boy who always talked about becoming a lawyer to help his single-mother out disappointed her greatly when he turned into everything she feared. sure, he became successful in the educational and career fields and was the youngest CEO of a very rich and famous enterprise. but he was very empty inside.

drugs, the never ending one-night stands, the selfishness, his egotistical, conceited mind and personality. eden felt ashamed of herself because it was as if like she wasn't any good at her job. sure she sometimes made sure that the right people crossed his path and twisted things around so they'd go his way, but no matter what she did, he always made the wrong decisions.

so the angel gave her father a determined nod and furrowed her brows, attempting to look as serious as ever, but ended up mimicking a cute bunny trying to be mad. "you got it, dad." he sent her down to the earth and within his heart, he knew eden would be able to complete her mission; change the boy's heart.

the girl landed face first on a large, rural area.

"ow." came a muffled groan from her lips.

eden placed her palms on the ground and lifted the top half of her body up to look around at her surroundings. "you could've been a little nicer on the landing!" she called out to the sky, knowing her father could hear her. eden stood up and softly sighed when she looked down and saw her white dress covered in dirt.

all of a sudden, as she occupied herself in patting the brown particles off, a loud, startling rumble was heard in the sky, causing the girl to shriek and jump in surprise.

she lifted her hands up in surrender and looked back up at the dark sky. "dang, okay, my bad."

the angel's eyes scanned her surroundings. she could make out a large farm house on the other side of the field with a strip of wind turbines behind it. there was a dirt road in front of it as well.

"follow the road, eden." she nodded her head and obliged as white combat boots lead their owner across the grass to the road.

kim taehyung was at his favorite bar with the bad influences he's proud to call friends. he was on his eighth glass of the strongest whiskey the bar had to offer as he and his buddies listened intently to steven jeong's absurd mentality.

"i'm leaving areum." he announced all of a sudden. as the two other men beside him raised their eyebrows in curiosity, tae, in his expensive black & white suit and tie, leaned back to stretch his glass out towards the bartender for another drink. once he was given what he asked for, he settled back into his seat with eyes glued onto the talking man.

"i don't know, man. she just got annoying. being around her makes me feel. . . ." steven's mildly drunken mind tried to search for the right word to describe his feelings, but shrugged his shoulders when he received nothing. "i don't even know anymore. . . . she got fat. doesn't look like she did when we first met."

"i mean she did give birth three times." park jimin tried to defend the woman. steven ignored jimin's justification, but mentally told him off.

"the other day i was sitting on the couch, right? just watching t.v. and she walks in, telling me to go wash the dishes and sweep the kitchen. i get home after a long day from work. i want to relax. and she expects me to do her job? that shit doesn't fly with me."

tae and another friend of theirs began mumbling in response, nodding their heads, except for jimin, who could only shake his.

"so, you're throwing away two years of marriage over cleaning and because she's not "hot" anymore?" jimin scoffed. steven clenched his jaw as he abruptly turned to face him.

steven stood up from his seat. "hey, stop making it sound like i'm the asshole, alright?"

"i'm not gonna cover it up." jimin declared with his arms raised defense. "how else am i supposed to make it sound like?"

"not make me sound like an asshole!"

"you're a fucking piece of shit." jimin grumbled under his breath.

"hey, taehyung, why'd you invite this bum, anyway? i've told you hundreds of time i don't like him." steven turned to look at tae with his hand pointed towards jimin and an accusatory expression.

it was a first jimin heard something like this from him. of course, he's always noticed how uneasy and annoyed steven feels when he's around but he never said anything to his face. the alcohol triggered something in him.

"let it go, steven." taehyung groaned in response.

"always such a fucking buzzkill, man!"

off to the side, a random man turned around and pleaded steven to take it outside. "my night isn't about to be ruined by some punks."

long story short, after a few more rude exchanges, a large brawl broke out between greg mendel, the other friend, the annoyed man, and his friends. not wanting to be a part of this, a small smile spread across tae's face when he managed to slip out unnoticed without a single scratch.

the man sat back down in the back of the bar, making sure to take a seat significantly far from the large fight—which was now slowly coming to an end as big security men began to pull them apart from each other. taehyung chuckled and looked down at the floor with a shake of his head, shaking his head. once he was finally looking up again, his eyes landed on a beautiful brunette woman who danced the night away. he instantly become intrigued by her. his eyes roamed her body and moves, feeling a small shiver run down his spine at the sight of her in a tight black dress that stopped at mid-thigh.

the girl suddenly locked eyes with him. her eyes followed his hand, and she watched as his fingers wrap around the transparent cup, the golden watch on his wrist impossible not to notice. she sent him a shy smile as she pulled a strand of her hair behind her ear, and in return the side of tae's lips curled upwards.

eden was currently sitting in taehyung's living room after four hours of nonstop walking. she would've used her wings to fly and it definitely would've taken much shorter to arrive, but God rid her of her angelic powers before sending her down for some unknown reason to eden.

her eyes roamed around his expensive penthouse and she couldn't help but shake her head in disappointment.

kim taehyung had everything, but not everything.

the sound of keys desperately trying to unlock the door caught eden's attention as she leaned back on the couch with her head turned towards the door. she then decided to rest her arm on the top of the couch.

the sight of a familiar man and an unknown woman entered the room with their hands and lips all over each other.

nothing unusual for taehyung.

it wasn't long before eden made herself present when her chirpy voice spoke up in the dark, "hey, sweetie, do you want this to go anywhere?"

the engaged pair quickly pulled apart in shock and looked down at the sitting girl with confused expressions on their faces—but taehyung's was much worse.

"who the hell are you?!" he questioned in a panic, but his tone was more demanding.

"look," eden began and stood from the couch. "i know you want to wake up tomorrow with him by your side, and i know that you want this to go somewhere, but that's not gonna happen. you'll wake up alone with nothing but a note on the nightstand that reads 'hey, i had a fun time. let's meet up some other time. call me'. because this sir here," eden pointed her finger at tae. "left for work and he doesn't care about you. he used you."

"you'll be calling, and calling, but he won't pick up. ever. trust me, it happens every single time a girl walks in through that door. so, unless you want to waste your time, i suggest you go on your merry way." eden concluded with a grin.

the girl looked between the beautiful angel and taehyung, who had an uneasy smile plastered onto his face with raised brows. "um...." the girl nervously began. ".... i'll go on my merry way."

"have a good life." she waved goodbye before walking out the door.

"wise choice!" eden grinned once the door slammed shut and raised her arms out in front of her a tiny bit. "proud of you!"

taehyung turned to look at the stranger with the same confused and horrified expression from before. "again, who the hell are you?! i'm—i'm calling the police if you—"

"i, eden, am your guardian angel." she introduced herself as she took a small bow, leaving the boy a hundred times more confused.

"are you—are you serious? you're being serious right now?!"

"uh, yeah, man, i've been watching over you since december 30th, 1995." the nervous boy reached into his pocket for his phone, and shook his head as his long fingers shakily pressed the green icon at the bottom of the screen.

"you're crazy!" he laughed. "i'm—" before taehyung had the chance to dial the police, the phone suddenly exploded and flew across the room. "wha—"

eden looked up at the roof of the house and pressed her hands on the side of her mouth, giving the impression of a megaphone. "thanks, dad! i really appreciate it!"

"okay, that was weird." he stated with furrowed brows, finger pointing at the shattered phone on the floor.

"here's the deal, tae. . . . your time is running out. you’re gonna die in a few years." taehyung's eyes widened at the words being thrown around like nothing.

"wait, wha—"

"and you exactly didn't turn out the way i expected you to turn out. you see, God created the Ten Commandments for you humans to follow, and go to heaven. you've broken every single one of them. even murder because although you didn't kill anyone physically, the things you say to others are not exactly the nicest."

"like the girl who asked you out a few weeks ago, and you laughed in her face, and said no because she looks like a cow...." taehyung's lips formed an o shaped when he realized she was telling the truth about being a guardian angel.

"yeah, you killed her self esteem. and that girl is now starving herself because of you."

an awkward silence followed soon after as tae's eyes fell to the ground in shame. he began to regret his words.

"also didn't expect you to commit adultry." eden inquired as she placed on her arms on either side of her waist. this made taehyung wish she'd stop rubbing his mistakes in his face already. "shame on you and that—at the time—married lady."

eden placed the palm of her hand on her forehead as she rested the other on her hip in disappointment. she sighed before looking up at the roof of the penthouse. "God, what did i do wrong?" she questioned helplessly.

"anyways," she waved her hand in front of taehyung, dismissively. "um, so you need to change before you die, because you're gonna go down...."

the girl stepped closer to the boy and placed a hand on his shoulder as the other occupied itself by pointing down at the ground. "there." she whispered, slowly nodding.

a lump formed in the back of tae's throat. he cautiously watched as eden took a few steps back and he couldn't help but feel a bit frightened when memories of a few of his sins began to linger into his mind.

"i've known you your whole life. it kills me to see you do all these things. the drugs, the one-night stands, how highly you think of yourself. you need to be humble. i don't know what i'm going to do with myself if i'm not able to help you save yourself from your possible fate."

eden once again walked up to tae and placed both of her hands on his shoulders, raising her head up a bit to meet eyes with the frightened boy.

she smiled up at him with the most humble eyes he'd ever seen. "i'm going to figure your heart out."

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lokihzra · 3 years

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My Heart’s On Fire For Your Love

Chapter 3

Thor falls to his knees in front of his brother, his heartbeat picking up with every sharp inhale Loki takes. “Loki hey look at me” Thor demands through the lump in his throat as he gently lifts Loki’s face to look at him “you’re okay, we’re in New York” he says as soft as he can, keeping his touch gentle and pleading, hoping Loki can see the worry and pain in his eyes.

“no I-I” Loki stops and gulps to try and ease the lump in his throat attempting to suffocate him “I don’t know what’s happening” he mumbles and tries to look back down at the floor.

Thor pulls his head back up and Loki couldn’t tell if he wanted to pull away or lean into Thor’s touch “breathe Loki, keep your eyes on me”

“I can’t-“ he breaks off into sharp gasps and leans forward until his head hits Thor’s shoulder “make it stop” the gasps burned his lungs but his head hurt more.

worthless, useless, nothing, a monster. Who can love a monster?

Especially a fallen jotun runt.

“Loki please breathe” Thor begs, tears welling up in his own eyes. Helpless, the weight in his heart screams at him to do something but he can’t. Thor isn’t skilled with a Seidr so no matter how bad he wanted to, he couldn’t help his brother.

“Please make it stop” Loki sobs and his stomach drops as he remembers the darkness, the endless silence “Thor please” he begs, pressing his face farther into thor’s shoulder, his hands gripping Thors sweater so hard that Loki swears he feels one of his nails crack.

Thor starts softly shushing him and Loki feels his hand rubbing his back gently, his other hand playing with his hair and he only notices that it calms him down near ten minutes later when his lungs stopped burning and that dull throbbing started pounding at the back of his eyes.

“what do you need?” Thor asks quietly, not moving to pull away.

Loki gulps, trying to ignore the embarrassment as he pulls back “I don’t know why that-“

“you want to rest? you look like you need it” Thor smiles softly making Loki’s nose sting.

“okay”

“Sir, Mr. Rhodes was already on his way here”

Tony sighs but it just gets caught in his throat “wher-where is he?” he says quickly.

“he’s just parked”

“he has a damn suit-oh god” Tony falls back on his ass and brings his knees up to his chin.

“he’s in the elevator”

Tony nods to himself as he grips the table and pulls himself up to his feet. He stumbles and hits his hip against the table so hard he knows there will be a bruise but he doesn’t care because he hears the door slide open.

He turns around to see Rhodey rushing over to him and Tony stumbles over to him, Rhodey catching him before he could trip over his own foot. “Hey man what happened?” Rhodey asks softly as he lowers them to the ground.

“Loki-I-” Tony buries his face in Rhodeys shoulder, his hands holding onto Rhodeys jacket like his life depended on it “me and Loki-“

“You and Loki what? fought?” he asks quietly as he rubs Tony’s back, drawing patterns and words into it.

“no-we-opposite”

“you guys hooked up?” Rhodey nearly yells.

“no-he’s my-“

“okay Tony calm down just breathe, copy my breathing” Rhodey demands and he doesn’t breathe louder on purpose, It helped Tony a lot more when he had to strain to focus, when he blocked everything out to focus on one thing.

And it worked. The pounding in his head got quieter as he strained to listen to Rhodeys even breaths and mimic them. Tony loved Rhodey with all his damn heart, if it wasn’t for Rhodey, Tony probably would have died by 22 and Tony never ever expresses how much Rhodey means to him and he hates it because he got it from Howard.

“you okay now?” Rhodey breaks him from his thoughts, the hand on his back slowing to a halt.

“I love you, you know that?”

“shut up”

“No i really do Rhodes, I would die for you man”

“you’ll die for anyone Tony”

“not true”

“well if you love me so much tell me what happened”

“um” Tony pauses to try and think of how the hell he tells his best friend that soulmates are real and he knows because his soulmate is upstairs right now and it just so happens to be the man who attacked the very city they’re in at the moment “maybe another time buddy”

Tony starts to get up but Rhodey pulls him back down to the floor “I’m your best friend douche bag, tell me”

“do you believe in soulmates?”

“sometimes” Rhodey says with a shrug but continues when Tony raises a brow “I thought you and Pepper were soulmates”

“yeah well she’s not and my soulmate is a guy”

Rhodeys face falls but he quickly breaks off into a quiet laugh “you’re telling me soulmates are real?”

“the city was attacked by aliens five days ago and this, you don’t believe?”

“okay fine keep talking” Rhodey demands as he focuses his attention on Tony.

“nevermind I shouldn’t-“

“Tony tony I’m listening so tell me please” Rhodey nearly begs.

Tony rambles to hopefully avoid the subject but Rhodey knows him. Rhodey knows that this is what he does.“apparently soulmates are rare. Like extinct rare and I don’t really know the purpose but-“

Rhodey interrupts him “Tony”

Tony stops with a huff and as he opened his mouth to say the words, he suddenly couldn’t. “Tony?” he sighs before lifting his sleeve and revealing the L on his wrist, the black marking standing out against his tan skin like an emo at Disney land.

Tony watches as Rhodey frowns at it before his face drops “am I being punk’d?”

“fuck” Tony says harshly as he pulls his sleeve back down “see?” he quickly gets up and walks over to his desk “this is why I don’t want to tell anybody”

“do you love him?” Rhodey asks and Tony stops abruptly.

“no” he says without missing a beat and he turns around to face Rhodey in case the latter doesn’t believe him.

“well then you’ll be okay” Rhodey says reassuringly.

It doesn’t work thought because Rhodey can’t hide his concern from Tony, not after 12 years of being bestfriends. “Thor said something about a bond becoming complete-the fuck does that mean Rhodey?” Tony asks quickly, his heart beating faster than his tongue moves.

“Call Loki down here”

“what? no-“

“I can’t answer your questions only he can”

“Sir it seems that Mr. Odinson is not functional enough to come down here”

He groans before mumbling “and why not?” secretly hoping that JARVIS never heard.

“he’s suffering from a migraine ” JARVIS informs him and Tony sighs in relief before something catches his attention.

“Aliens can get headaches?”

“technically sir he is Asgardian, A god, not an alien, they have the same physiology but they’re only denser so yes Asgardians can get headaches”

“diseases?”

“no sir, their density makes it near impossible for diseases to survive off of their body, it would take nearly a million years for any disease to affect them”

“hm” Tony shrugs “won’t have to use a condom.

“Tony!” Rhodey scolds as he watches Tony walk to the door.

“i’m kidding sourpatch”

May 9th, 2012

“we ordered supper, it’s on the counter” Natasha nods towards the several takeout plates on the counter.

“didn’t know what you guys wanted so I just ordered almost everything” Tony says through a mouthful of food.

Loki frowns down at the meat and vegetables mixed together, with rice or noodles, a bowl of soup and small balls covered in a red sauce. “what is this?”

“Chinese food” Clint says through his mouthful of food

“Why are you here and why are you all dirty?”

“While you guys were destroying the training room we were out cleaning your mess” Steve states

Loki frowns and it disappears before anyone could even notice it. His eyebrows are furrowed and his fists clenched together as he walks over to the giant windows. Thor and Tony silently watching as Loki scans the wreck of the city below him.

Suddenly Tony’s throat closes up, his eyes filling with tears and the weight in his heart makes him literally stop breathing for a moment. He freezes before harshly putting his plate down and watching as Loki is staring down at the city.

Loki's fists are clenched so tight that his arms tremble along with his tense jaw, shaking, trying to form words as he scans the debris littering the streets and buildings. Broken windows and signs, craters from explosions and some buildings had holes in them that was at least 4 stories big.

He blinks quickly to make the tears go away before he holds his palms out, parallel to the window in front of him and his guilt doesn’t fade as the warmth travels through his veins. The warm green light of his magic absorbing the mess; garbage, debris, glass and metal all disappearing from the streets and buildings. He couldn’t fix the buildings or signs, not until he got more of his strength back but this was enough for now.

He couldn't fix broken families and give children their parents back.

He’ll do better.

He’ll make up for it, somehow.

“how many people?” he asks quietly, staying in his spot “how many people did I kill?”

“one hundred and ninety three” Steve states and Loki couldn’t hold in his shaky exhale.

He was about to say something but Clints cold tone made his brain short circuit “cleaning up the mess won’t do anything”

Lokis guilt completely fades morphing into anger as he scans the avengers in the living room. “I accept you all for who you are even when you can’t find even a shred of humanity to accept me. Natasha’s ledger is worse than mine, Thor waged war on Jötunheim out of anger, he wasn’t mind controlled, tortured and forced like I was ” Loki snarls but he continues before Thor can ask questions “Clint you had a secret family, Bruce killed his abusive alcoholic father” Loki stops quickly, his gaze softening as he looks at the tense scientist “I’m not judging you for that I would have done the same thing. Tony is an alcoholic who made weapons and Steve claims to be a self-sacrificing hero yet he has 90 years to prove that”

The room is silent as every word sinks into their bones. Every word was true and none of them could deny that not even to themselves, Tony never ever denied who he was but that doesn’t stop the anger from boiling his blood and organs.

“I’m not the only one with mistakes or a past, I’m not the only one who lies about who I am and I know that, so degrade me all you want but don’t throw it in my face” Loki deadpans “because I promise you Barton, I will win at that game every time” he says lowly.

“shut the fuck up”

“pardon?” Loki glares and Tony feels another wave of that hot red rage setting in his bones.

“shut the fuck up, you’re pissing me off”

Loki scoffs, folding his arms and barking out a laugh “I’m pissing you-“ he stops abruptly, his face dropping as he suddenly marches into the elevator, leaving everyone shocked.

Except for Tony, as fast as the anger came it transformed into fear as soon as-

As soon as Loki wasn't angry anymore.

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